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		<title>The Falling of An Angel Part One</title>
		<link>http://authorbo.wordpress.com/2008/11/16/the-falling-of-an-angel-part-one/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2008 00:35:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[Chapter One   Annabelle Charles wasn’t a bad girl. Or should I say angel? She was perfectly sweet to everyone. Well, if you include just herself. So this is Annabelle’s story…   The Day Annabelle Died             “Annie! Cross the street for me honey! You can do it! Come on! Come on!” Annabelle Charles’ mother [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=58&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter One</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle Charles wasn’t a bad girl. Or should I say angel?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">She was perfectly sweet to everyone. Well, if you include just herself. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">So this is Annabelle’s story…</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">The Day Annabelle Died</span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annie! Cross the street for me honey! You can do it! Come on! Come on!” Annabelle Charles’ mother beckoned her little five-year-old across the street.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle’s mother was all the way across the busy street and she had just taught Annabelle to walk across it on her own. Annabelle was scared, but reluctant to reveal her insecurity. So, to get rid of it, Annabelle walked over to the 7Eleven a few sidewalk squares away. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Entering the store, Annabelle could already hear her mother yelling, “Annabelle! Bad girl! Come back to Mummy!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle walked right over to an unoccupied cash register and climbed onto the counter. She started banging on the register and pressing all the buttons until, finally, a little bang and some smoke came from the register. She had broken it. Annabelle smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle! Little girl come here!” Mummy yelled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle crawled right off the counter and over to the occupied register. She bit into a man’s leg and he screamed. The customer ran away before sliding her credit card and threw her bags on the floor from fright.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle clung to the man’s leg as he started running wildly, dragging his foot behind him. Mummy was getting nearer, so Annabelle let go of the man and ran to the aisle of sweets. She ran to the back where the Slurpees were located and she jumped onto the counter. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle pressed on the button for a long time until she realized the bin was all out of cherry. She put her mouth under the Blue Raspberry nozzle and pressed on it. She must’ve drunken half the bin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle!” Mummy screeched. She snatched Annabelle from the counter and carried her squirming daughter outside. At the curb, Mummy put Annabelle down and held her daughters hand firmly and began walking across the street. Cars screeched to halts and Annabelle pulled hard on Mummy’s hand, pointing a ‘pretty’ Cadillac. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Look, Mummy, look at the pwetty Cadiwac,” Annabelle said. “MUMMY LOOK!” Annabelle demanded loudly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The honks erupted and the Cadillac lurched forward. “ANNABELLE!” Mummy screamed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>And then Annabelle was blasted with pain. She screamed, but too late. She was dead. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Mummy mourned. She grieved. She regretted handling her little baby too harshly. Annabelle was rushed to the hospital but it was no use. Her heart faltered right after all the tubes and needles were stuck into her. Mummy kissed Annabelle’s head and blessed her with motherly love. It was the only way Mummy was sure her baby would be sent to the Lord.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><span style="font-family:&quot;">Present Time In Heaven</span></span><span style="font-family:&quot;"></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle shook her head slowly at her outfit in the mirror; her white tank top was too long, she wanted to show her belly button, her jeans were too casual, she should just use short-shorts, and her black moon necklace was too…fallen angel-like. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Shaking out her golden hair from its ponytail, Annabelle took her white tank top off and cut it just enough that it’d be a few inches above her belly button. She wriggled out of her jeans and slid on olive green shorts and stepped into her white flats. She took out her yellow star necklace and unclipped her black moon one. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Perfect.” Annabelle grinned her beautiful smile. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annie, come on!” Annabelle’s friend Stelle prompted her.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I’m finished and coming, geez, Stelle.” Annabelle growled. Stelle was an Italian name, meaning ‘star.’ Annabelle was partially cold to Stelle because she had such a beautiful name.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Pardon <em>me</em>.” Stelle growled back. Stelle was wearing a white mini-dress that when down just above her knees. Pearls lined the straps and the hem of the dress. Annabelle mentally sighed and realized how beautiful Stelle looked. Like a real star.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle hissed like a cat and then pushed herself in front of Stelle. They entered the temple together and many waiting angels were staring as they walked down the aisle and slid into their seats.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Thank you for finally joining us dears.” the head angel, Muriel, smiled kindly. Her tone was sincere and she didn’t sound like she was trying to acknowledge the rudeness of Annabelle and Stelle’s arrival. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The friends nodded. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“This Friday is the day of Deciding. Does any Virgin Marys know what the date of Friday is?” Muriel continued in her musical voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Many Virgin Marys raised their hands (Virgin Marys are like juniors in high school, they are one step away from becoming Living Christs. Living Christs are like seniors. Disciples are sophomores and just Angels are freshman).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yes, Becki.” Muriel called on a pretty dirty blonde in the back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“The 26<sup>th</sup> of the Month of Danger.” Becki answered smoothly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Excellent. You all know quite well, I’m sure, that the Month of Danger is the month to be most careful and cautious of your actions. Even angels are not perfect, my dears. Remember, our Lord is coming this Friday and he will be sending some to fall. I’m sorry but I cannot give any hints of who shall be falling. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“I want you all to know I love you. You are my children and I am your mother. For now, I am the closest angel to Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. Mary will be filled with grief when her sons and daughters begin to fall.” Muriel explained. Her face saddened as she asked her next question. “Do any Virgin Marys know what next month will be?”<br />
<span>            </span>Again, Becki raised her hand, but this time, Tommy was called on. “The Month of Mourning.” he said in a deep, attractive voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle turned her head and gave a thumbs-up and winked. He blew a kiss to her (yes, they’re together) and she caught it. Muriel cleared her throat.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Immediately, the couple turned their attention to the front. “Correct. Excellent job, Thomas. Next month, we will all go into mourning for three and a half weeks. We will all eat one meal a day.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">The crowd of angels nodded solemnly. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“I wanted to know if any angel had a question about the Day of Deciding, that’s why I called this meeting.” Muriel lifted her beautiful head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">No angel raised their hands. Annabelle picked at her French manicured nails. Stelle kept her full attention on Muriel.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“None? Okay, well, my dears, you may all go back to your houses, rooms, apartments, condos, trailers, or many places I have left out. I love you and God bless.” Muriel smiled. A tear rolled down her cheek and looked straight at Annabelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Something about Muriel always weakened Annabelle’s knees and made her feel powerless, so Annabelle smiled. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Muriel smiled sadly this time and called to Annabelle. “Beware of your regularities.” Muriel walked away.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle was left puzzled and worried. She simply shook it off and set out to her room, but instead of walking all the way over there, she instead started calling for red paints and super glue. In her outstretched hands appeared super glue and Dutch Boy paint. Smiling, Annabelle set off for her math teacher’s office.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle took the Dutch Boy paint bucket and poured the red paint all over the math teacher’s desk until it was all gone. She then put super glue on the seat and glued his favorite pencil to the desk.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Grinning deviously, Annabelle had totally forgotten Muriel’s warning. She wiped her hands on her jeans and zapped back to her room. Stelle was lying on the couch reading a <em>GL</em> magazine innocently. “We <em>have</em> to go shopping. I really want some yellow tights.” Stelle gushed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Done.” Annabelle nodded. She collapsed onto her bed and then got up again. She laid out her clothes for Friday. White Gap jeans and a white collared shirt with a dark blue sweater-vest over it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Don’t forget we have to wear our Apostles pendant.” Stelle yawned. The meeting had started at 8:30 and ended at 9:00, so plenty of angels were getting ready for bed. It was 9:30 at the moment and Stelle had already changed into her orange satin pajamas. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Right.” Annabelle nodded. She was somehow nervous about the Falling Angels ritual, but she knew that she wasn’t going to be picked to fall. It was impossible.</span></span></p>
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		<title>The Falling of An Angel</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2008 00:27:09 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Chapter One   Annabelle Charles wasn’t a bad girl. Or should I say angel? She was perfectly sweet to everyone. Well, if you include just herself. So this is Annabelle’s story…   The Day Annabelle Died             “Annie! Cross the street for me honey! You can do it! Come on! Come on!” Annabelle Charles’ mother [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=56&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter One</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle Charles wasn’t a bad girl. Or should I say angel?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">She was perfectly sweet to everyone. Well, if you include just herself. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">So this is Annabelle’s story…</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">The Day Annabelle Died</span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annie! Cross the street for me honey! You can do it! Come on! Come on!” Annabelle Charles’ mother beckoned her little five-year-old across the street.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle’s mother was all the way across the busy street and she had just taught Annabelle to walk across it on her own. Annabelle was scared, but reluctant to reveal her insecurity. So, to get rid of it, Annabelle walked over to the 7Eleven a few sidewalk squares away. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Entering the store, Annabelle could already hear her mother yelling, “Annabelle! Bad girl! Come back to Mummy!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle walked right over to an unoccupied cash register and climbed onto the counter. She started banging on the register and pressing all the buttons until, finally, a little bang and some smoke came from the register. She had broken it. Annabelle smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle! Little girl come here!” Mummy yelled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle crawled right off the counter and over to the occupied register. She bit into a man’s leg and he screamed. The customer ran away before sliding her credit card and threw her bags on the floor from fright.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle clung to the man’s leg as he started running wildly, dragging his foot behind him. Mummy was getting nearer, so Annabelle let go of the man and ran to the aisle of sweets. She ran to the back where the Slurpees were located and she jumped onto the counter. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle pressed on the button for a long time until she realized the bin was all out of cherry. She put her mouth under the Blue Raspberry nozzle and pressed on it. She must’ve drunken half the bin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle!” Mummy screeched. She snatched Annabelle from the counter and carried her squirming daughter outside. At the curb, Mummy put Annabelle down and held her daughters hand firmly and began walking across the street. Cars screeched to halts and Annabelle pulled hard on Mummy’s hand, pointing a ‘pretty’ Cadillac. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Look, Mummy, look at the pwetty Cadiwac,” Annabelle said. “MUMMY LOOK!” Annabelle demanded loudly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The honks erupted and the Cadillac lurched forward. “ANNABELLE!” Mummy screamed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>And then Annabelle was blasted with pain. She screamed, but too late. She was dead. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Mummy mourned. She grieved. She regretted handling her little baby too harshly. Annabelle was rushed to the hospital but it was no use. Her heart faltered right after all the tubes and needles were stuck into her. Mummy kissed Annabelle’s head and blessed her with motherly love. It was the only way Mummy was sure her baby would be sent to the Lord.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><span style="font-family:&quot;">Present Time In Heaven</span></span><span style="font-family:&quot;"></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle shook her head slowly at her outfit in the mirror; her white tank top was too long, she wanted to show her belly button, her jeans were too casual, she should just use short-shorts, and her black moon necklace was too…fallen angel-like. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Shaking out her golden hair from its ponytail, Annabelle took her white tank top off and cut it just enough that it’d be a few inches above her belly button. She wriggled out of her jeans and slid on olive green shorts and stepped into her white flats. She took out her yellow star necklace and unclipped her black moon one. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Perfect.” Annabelle grinned her beautiful smile. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annie, come on!” Annabelle’s friend Stelle prompted her.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I’m finished and coming, geez, Stelle.” Annabelle growled. Stelle was an Italian name, meaning ‘star.’ Annabelle was partially cold to Stelle because she had such a beautiful name.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Pardon <em>me</em>.” Stelle growled back. Stelle was wearing a white mini-dress that when down just above her knees. Pearls lined the straps and the hem of the dress. Annabelle mentally sighed and realized how beautiful Stelle looked. Like a real star.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle hissed like a cat and then pushed herself in front of Stelle. They entered the temple together and many waiting angels were staring as they walked down the aisle and slid into their seats.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Thank you for finally joining us dears.” the head angel, Muriel, smiled kindly. Her tone was sincere and she didn’t sound like she was trying to acknowledge the rudeness of Annabelle and Stelle’s arrival. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The friends nodded. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“This Friday is the day of Deciding. Does any Virgin Marys know what the date of Friday is?” Muriel continued in her musical voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Many Virgin Marys raised their hands (Virgin Marys are like juniors in high school, they are one step away from becoming Living Christs. Living Christs are like seniors. Disciples are sophomores and just Angels are freshman).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yes, Becki.” Muriel called on a pretty dirty blonde in the back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“The 26<sup>th</sup> of the Month of Danger.” Becki answered smoothly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Excellent. You all know quite well, I’m sure, that the Month of Danger is the month to be most careful and cautious of your actions. Even angels are not perfect, my dears. Remember, our Lord is coming this Friday and he will be sending some to fall. I’m sorry but I cannot give any hints of who shall be falling. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“I want you all to know I love you. You are my children and I am your mother. For now, I am the closest angel to Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. Mary will be filled with grief when her sons and daughters begin to fall.” Muriel explained. Her face saddened as she asked her next question. “Do any Virgin Marys know what next month will be?”<br />
<span>            </span>Again, Becki raised her hand, but this time, Tommy was called on. “The Month of Mourning.” he said in a deep, attractive voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle turned her head and gave a thumbs-up and winked. He blew a kiss to her (yes, they’re together) and she caught it. Muriel cleared her throat.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Immediately, the couple turned their attention to the front. “Correct. Excellent job, Thomas. Next month, we will all go into mourning for three and a half weeks. We will all eat one meal a day.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">The crowd of angels nodded solemnly. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“I wanted to know if any angel had a question about the Day of Deciding, that’s why I called this meeting.” Muriel lifted her beautiful head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">No angel raised their hands. Annabelle picked at her French manicured nails. Stelle kept her full attention on Muriel.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“None? Okay, well, my dears, you may all go back to your houses, rooms, apartments, condos, trailers, or many places I have left out. I love you and God bless.” Muriel smiled. A tear rolled down her cheek and looked straight at Annabelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Something about Muriel always weakened Annabelle’s knees and made her feel powerless, so Annabelle smiled. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Muriel smiled sadly this time and called to Annabelle. “Beware of your regularities.” Muriel walked away.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle was left puzzled and worried. She simply shook it off and set out to her room, but instead of walking all the way over there, she instead started calling for red paints and super glue. In her outstretched hands appeared super glue and Dutch Boy paint. Smiling, Annabelle set off for her math teacher’s office.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle took the Dutch Boy paint bucket and poured the red paint all over the math teacher’s desk until it was all gone. She then put super glue on the seat and glued his favorite pencil to the desk.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Grinning deviously, Annabelle had totally forgotten Muriel’s warning. She wiped her hands on her jeans and zapped back to her room. Stelle was lying on the couch reading a <em>GL</em> magazine innocently. “We <em>have</em> to go shopping. I really want some yellow tights.” Stelle gushed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Done.” Annabelle nodded. She collapsed onto her bed and then got up again. She laid out her clothes for Friday. White Gap jeans and a white collared shirt with a dark blue sweater-vest over it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Don’t forget we have to wear our Apostles pendant.” Stelle yawned. The meeting had started at 8:30 and ended at 9:00, so plenty of angels were getting ready for bed. It was 9:30 at the moment and Stelle had already changed into her orange satin pajamas. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Right.” Annabelle nodded. She was somehow nervous about the Falling Angels ritual, but she knew that she wasn’t going to be picked to fall. It was impossible.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter Two</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Thursday came and went for Annabelle, and pretty soon, Friday evening had come. She and Stelle had finished their homework out of anxiety, and even double-checked their answers.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Let’s go, Stelle.” Annabelle announced. She pulled on the clothes she had lain out on Wednesday night. Clipping on her Apostles pendant lazily, Annabelle glanced over at Stelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Stelle was wearing white Capris and a white tank top with a light, pink-pearl colored sweater on top. “You look fine, Annabelle.” Stelle smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle smiled back graciously. “You, too, Stelle.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Thanks.” Stelle blushed. The girls linked arms and walked to the temple. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Thank you all for joining us today, daughters and sons. The Lord is present this fine evening, as you see, and his light is flowing through us all.” Muriel walked out and bowed at the altar, then folded her hands together.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Amen.” the crowd muttered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>A bright light coming from the tabernacle glowed throughout the room. Gold glitter sprinkled angels’ wings and made their hair shimmer. Many laughed with joy.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“My children,” bellowed a deep voice. “My children, welcome. Welcome to my church. Today we gather together for the ones who have not honored me to fall. I have a list for my high daughter, Muriel. I love you all, even those who fall. I am watching your every move, sons and daughters. I know everything about you.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The light flashed, practically blinding Annabelle and Stelle, and a piece of paper floated down into Muriel’s hands. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>She could barely stifle her gasp. “When…I read your name…please come to me immediately. I will count to 3 and you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want. At 3, you jump and you begin falling.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Hills, Geoffrey,” Muriel began. Every time someone’s name was called, they’d jump and scream.<span>  </span>“Richards, Christina…(scream)…Parker, Juliet…(scream)…Ch-Charles…Annabelle.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle wanted to scream, ‘WHAT?!’ but instead she stared straight ahead at Muriel. Annabelle turned to Stelle. Stelle had a bewildered look on her face, so she had heard too. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Charles, Annabelle.” Muriel said again, this time more smoothly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“C-c-coming.” Annabelle muttered. Stelle rubbed Annabelle’s hand and shook her head. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I don’t know what you did, but what the heck am I gonna do without you?” Stelle’s eyes watered up and eventually she started crying. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I love you, Stelle,” Annabelle squeezed Stelle’s hand. Tommy was at the aisle and pulled Annabelle into a passionate kiss. “And I love you too, Tommy.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Tommy almost laughed, but only a half-smile made its way onto his face. “Love you.” he muttered sadly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle walked down the aisle to Muriel, finally. “Muriel? There has to be a mistake…”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“No mistake. I told you to watch what you do, daughter,” Muriel sighed. “I loved you Annabelle. You were the only one who understood me. You died at 5, also, and I felt like I could tell you anything. I felt as if you were my daughter, and I was your mother.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yes. I never knew well enough what it was like to have a mother.” Annabelle nodded. She remembered her mother screaming her name when she ran into the 7Eleven and when the Cadillac had run her over.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“You have a visitor.” said an echoic voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“M-mummy?” Annabelle twirled around.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“My daughter.” a ghost-like figure floated toward Annabelle, pulling her into an embrace.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“When did you die? How come you aren’t with me?” Annabelle asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I live at the Heavenly Village. I died a few months ago. My daughter, you really did need me these years. You are falling today and I’m afraid I’m quite disappointed. But Annie, my daughter, I still love you.” Annabelle’s mother smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I still love you, too.” Annabelle sniffled. Her mom kissed her hair and then shoved her toward the black hole.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Take my hand, dearest, and let me count to 3.” Muriel held out her hand.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle squeezed so tight she thought she heard Muriel whimper. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“3.” and Annabelle automatically jumped into the whole. Pain struck Annabelle in every possible way. Her heart ached, her side shed blood and her ankles felt as if they were broken. Her clothes were ripped from her body and her hair was contorted this way and that. Annabelle could barely feel her hands.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Her limbs grew skinnier and she suddenly felt sleepy, maybe even drugged. Annabelle felt bags grow under her eyes. Then her hair was pulled out of her head and grew back, but instead of golden hair, she had midnight black hair, with no moon or star to sparkle it. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Dark clothes were wrapped around Annabelle’s chest and waist and legs. Knee-length leather boots, a ripped up black skirt, and torn leather tube top with a black moon brooch stabbed into her chest. Annabelle didn’t bleed. Annabelle didn’t even feel the pain she would have felt in Heaven.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span><em>Whump</em>. Annabelle crashed to the ground. “Another one?” a voice cackled. The person (or dead thing?) started dragging Annabelle by her ankles. Still, no pain.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Welcome, Fallen Angel, to the Underworld. No, there is no fire or ice or all that crap. It’s just a smelly place but with good cooks. I see you are one of our new ones? Along with Isabella Zagala and Reise Maron. I see that Fallen Angel clothes fit you nicely.” the ‘dead-thing’ revealed himself.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>He had a bony face and it looked like he was sucking in his cheeks. His hair fell around his face loosely. On the last remark the man made, he glanced at Annabelle’s chest. Crossing her arms, Annabelle said, “What’s your name, pervert?”<br />
<span>            </span>“Drew.” he laughed. “And yours?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle.” Annabelle said simply.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I understand. Well follow me, Annabelle. Your roommate is waiting.” Drew grabbed Annabelle’s arm. Seeing it stick out like that, she noticed how visible her wrist and finger bones were, and how thin and frail the arm looked. Drew’s arm looked the same. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle then noticed the pale white skin. It was white, but kind of warm. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>They passed bubbling purple swamps and green flowing rivers. Annabelle saw a girl that looked like Persephone, the Goddess of Springtime, sitting under a pomegranate tree, reading. Drew tugged her arm harder and Annabelle almost fell forward. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Careful.” Drew grumbled to me. Annabelle glared back at Drew, saying with her eyes that he had been the one to pull me first. He rolled his eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Now that you’re settled in, dinner is ready at 4:30 AM. Our time is different from Heaven’s. We’re up doing the night and asleep during the day. Hope you’ll get used to it soon.” Drew clapped his hands.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle nodded to him and then grabbed her suitcase, practically shooing Drew out. She wondered how all her clothes had gotten here and how they’d all turn black and gray. Annabelle just pulled on some black sweats over her skirt and a gray jacket. If she hated black, she might as well be lazy and wear hideous clothes too.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Hey, you’re my new roommate?” a girl walked out of the bathroom. Annabelle was intimidated immediately. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Um, I guess. My name’s Annabelle.” Annabelle nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Ah, so…angel-like. I’m Satin. Our names are changed after one week of being in the Underworld. After one week, you are for the Underworld forever. Being sent back up to Heaven is possible, but it rarely ever happens.” Satin said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“What will my name be?” Annabelle asked curiously. She tugged on her shirt nervously.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I dunno. Morticia, maybe. Coldkissa.” Satin shrugged.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“What was your old name?” Annabelle took a step toward Satin, almost fully regaining her confidence.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Rainia.” Satin said. Satin was wearing a strapless, black, well, satin dress and black boots. She had a gray shrug tied around her shoulders and black hair cut to her chin. Around her neck was a silver chain with a black pentagram hanging off it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“What grade does the pentagram represent?” Annabelle asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Junior. You’re one, too right? You’ll get yours after dinner.” Satin didn’t let Annabelle answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yeah, I’m a junior…did you immediately go to the um, Underworld or did you fall first?” Annabelle looked around the room.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I fell first. Only three Fallen Angels went straight to the Underworld. They’re the Satan Followers, as everyone calls them.” Satin’s face hardened. She glared at the ground for a moment.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Scary. So…what time is it?” Annabelle said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“You’re full of questions aren’t you? I feel like I’m being interrogated by a policeman…it’s 4:20. Ooh, we have to get to dinner in ten minutes. Better get going.” Satin stood up. She seemed to hesitate at grabbing Annabelle’s hand, but took it anyway, and tugged hard.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Again, Annabelle almost fell forward. “Whoa.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“We can’t be late for dinner, especially since a bunch of new fallen angels are coming down. Blackwing will freak.” Satin started running with Annabelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Blackwing?” Annabelle raised her eyebrows.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“The head of our whole…thing. He’s the closest thing to Vampyra.” Satin explained.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Vampyra? I thought you were ruled by Hades.” Annabelle frowned.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“We <em>were</em>, but Vampyra trumps Hades. She was his most recent wife, too recent to be put in books. And she is not a vampire. She got her name Vampyra from Christina. She was immediately sent down from earth to the Underworld. That’s how evil she is.” Satin said, out of breath by the time she finished.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Wow, I never knew.” Annabelle said with surprise. Satin pulled Annabelle even faster and they burst through the doors and into the dinner hall.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Luckily, the welcome service hadn’t start yet, so Satin and Annabelle ran down the aisle to their seats. The kids were arranged by their grades and roommates. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Right when their butts touched the cold, glossy surface of the bench, an extremely loud voice blasted and bounced off the walls in the room. “Welcome back students, and welcome to your new home, Fallen Angels. After our meal, I will explain and answer your questions. So, <em>eat</em>.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>And immediately, out of fear, the students began eating their meals. It seemed so long, and Annabelle wasn’t hungry. She spooned out mashed potatoes with some kind of red sauce on it. The food tasted odd but good. She’d have to get used to it anyway. </span></span></p>
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		<title>The Falling of An Angel</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2008 00:24:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Chapter One   Annabelle Charles wasn’t a bad girl. Or should I say angel? She was perfectly sweet to everyone. Well, if you include just herself. So this is Annabelle’s story…   The Day Annabelle Died             “Annie! Cross the street for me honey! You can do it! Come on! Come on!” Annabelle Charles’ mother [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=54&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter One</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle Charles wasn’t a bad girl. Or should I say angel?</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">She was perfectly sweet to everyone. Well, if you include just herself. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">So this is Annabelle’s story…</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">The Day Annabelle Died</span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annie! Cross the street for me honey! You can do it! Come on! Come on!” Annabelle Charles’ mother beckoned her little five-year-old across the street.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle’s mother was all the way across the busy street and she had just taught Annabelle to walk across it on her own. Annabelle was scared, but reluctant to reveal her insecurity. So, to get rid of it, Annabelle walked over to the 7Eleven a few sidewalk squares away. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Entering the store, Annabelle could already hear her mother yelling, “Annabelle! Bad girl! Come back to Mummy!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle walked right over to an unoccupied cash register and climbed onto the counter. She started banging on the register and pressing all the buttons until, finally, a little bang and some smoke came from the register. She had broken it. Annabelle smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle! Little girl come here!” Mummy yelled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle crawled right off the counter and over to the occupied register. She bit into a man’s leg and he screamed. The customer ran away before sliding her credit card and threw her bags on the floor from fright.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle clung to the man’s leg as he started running wildly, dragging his foot behind him. Mummy was getting nearer, so Annabelle let go of the man and ran to the aisle of sweets. She ran to the back where the Slurpees were located and she jumped onto the counter. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle pressed on the button for a long time until she realized the bin was all out of cherry. She put her mouth under the Blue Raspberry nozzle and pressed on it. She must’ve drunken half the bin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle!” Mummy screeched. She snatched Annabelle from the counter and carried her squirming daughter outside. At the curb, Mummy put Annabelle down and held her daughters hand firmly and began walking across the street. Cars screeched to halts and Annabelle pulled hard on Mummy’s hand, pointing a ‘pretty’ Cadillac. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Look, Mummy, look at the pwetty Cadiwac,” Annabelle said. “MUMMY LOOK!” Annabelle demanded loudly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The honks erupted and the Cadillac lurched forward. “ANNABELLE!” Mummy screamed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>And then Annabelle was blasted with pain. She screamed, but too late. She was dead. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Mummy mourned. She grieved. She regretted handling her little baby too harshly. Annabelle was rushed to the hospital but it was no use. Her heart faltered right after all the tubes and needles were stuck into her. Mummy kissed Annabelle’s head and blessed her with motherly love. It was the only way Mummy was sure her baby would be sent to the Lord.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><span style="font-family:&quot;">Present Time In Heaven</span></span><span style="font-family:&quot;"></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle shook her head slowly at her outfit in the mirror; her white tank top was too long, she wanted to show her belly button, her jeans were too casual, she should just use short-shorts, and her black moon necklace was too…fallen angel-like. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Shaking out her golden hair from its ponytail, Annabelle took her white tank top off and cut it just enough that it’d be a few inches above her belly button. She wriggled out of her jeans and slid on olive green shorts and stepped into her white flats. She took out her yellow star necklace and unclipped her black moon one. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Perfect.” Annabelle grinned her beautiful smile. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annie, come on!” Annabelle’s friend Stelle prompted her.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I’m finished and coming, geez, Stelle.” Annabelle growled. Stelle was an Italian name, meaning ‘star.’ Annabelle was partially cold to Stelle because she had such a beautiful name.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Pardon <em>me</em>.” Stelle growled back. Stelle was wearing a white mini-dress that when down just above her knees. Pearls lined the straps and the hem of the dress. Annabelle mentally sighed and realized how beautiful Stelle looked. Like a real star.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle hissed like a cat and then pushed herself in front of Stelle. They entered the temple together and many waiting angels were staring as they walked down the aisle and slid into their seats.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Thank you for finally joining us dears.” the head angel, Muriel, smiled kindly. Her tone was sincere and she didn’t sound like she was trying to acknowledge the rudeness of Annabelle and Stelle’s arrival. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The friends nodded. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“This Friday is the day of Deciding. Does any Virgin Marys know what the date of Friday is?” Muriel continued in her musical voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Many Virgin Marys raised their hands (Virgin Marys are like juniors in high school, they are one step away from becoming Living Christs. Living Christs are like seniors. Disciples are sophomores and just Angels are freshman).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yes, Becki.” Muriel called on a pretty dirty blonde in the back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“The 26<sup>th</sup> of the Month of Danger.” Becki answered smoothly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Excellent. You all know quite well, I’m sure, that the Month of Danger is the month to be most careful and cautious of your actions. Even angels are not perfect, my dears. Remember, our Lord is coming this Friday and he will be sending some to fall. I’m sorry but I cannot give any hints of who shall be falling. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“I want you all to know I love you. You are my children and I am your mother. For now, I am the closest angel to Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. Mary will be filled with grief when her sons and daughters begin to fall.” Muriel explained. Her face saddened as she asked her next question. “Do any Virgin Marys know what next month will be?”<br />
<span>            </span>Again, Becki raised her hand, but this time, Tommy was called on. “The Month of Mourning.” he said in a deep, attractive voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle turned her head and gave a thumbs-up and winked. He blew a kiss to her (yes, they’re together) and she caught it. Muriel cleared her throat.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Immediately, the couple turned their attention to the front. “Correct. Excellent job, Thomas. Next month, we will all go into mourning for three and a half weeks. We will all eat one meal a day.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">The crowd of angels nodded solemnly. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“I wanted to know if any angel had a question about the Day of Deciding, that’s why I called this meeting.” Muriel lifted her beautiful head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">No angel raised their hands. Annabelle picked at her French manicured nails. Stelle kept her full attention on Muriel.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“None? Okay, well, my dears, you may all go back to your houses, rooms, apartments, condos, trailers, or many places I have left out. I love you and God bless.” Muriel smiled. A tear rolled down her cheek and looked straight at Annabelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Something about Muriel always weakened Annabelle’s knees and made her feel powerless, so Annabelle smiled. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Muriel smiled sadly this time and called to Annabelle. “Beware of your regularities.” Muriel walked away.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle was left puzzled and worried. She simply shook it off and set out to her room, but instead of walking all the way over there, she instead started calling for red paints and super glue. In her outstretched hands appeared super glue and Dutch Boy paint. Smiling, Annabelle set off for her math teacher’s office.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Annabelle took the Dutch Boy paint bucket and poured the red paint all over the math teacher’s desk until it was all gone. She then put super glue on the seat and glued his favorite pencil to the desk.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Grinning deviously, Annabelle had totally forgotten Muriel’s warning. She wiped her hands on her jeans and zapped back to her room. Stelle was lying on the couch reading a <em>GL</em> magazine innocently. “We <em>have</em> to go shopping. I really want some yellow tights.” Stelle gushed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Done.” Annabelle nodded. She collapsed onto her bed and then got up again. She laid out her clothes for Friday. White Gap jeans and a white collared shirt with a dark blue sweater-vest over it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Don’t forget we have to wear our Apostles pendant.” Stelle yawned. The meeting had started at 8:30 and ended at 9:00, so plenty of angels were getting ready for bed. It was 9:30 at the moment and Stelle had already changed into her orange satin pajamas. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Right.” Annabelle nodded. She was somehow nervous about the Falling Angels ritual, but she knew that she wasn’t going to be picked to fall. It was impossible.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter Two</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Thursday came and went for Annabelle, and pretty soon, Friday evening had come. She and Stelle had finished their homework out of anxiety, and even double-checked their answers.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Let’s go, Stelle.” Annabelle announced. She pulled on the clothes she had lain out on Wednesday night. Clipping on her Apostles pendant lazily, Annabelle glanced over at Stelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Stelle was wearing white Capris and a white tank top with a light, pink-pearl colored sweater on top. “You look fine, Annabelle.” Stelle smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle smiled back graciously. “You, too, Stelle.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Thanks.” Stelle blushed. The girls linked arms and walked to the temple. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Thank you all for joining us today, daughters and sons. The Lord is present this fine evening, as you see, and his light is flowing through us all.” Muriel walked out and bowed at the altar, then folded her hands together.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Amen.” the crowd muttered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>A bright light coming from the tabernacle glowed throughout the room. Gold glitter sprinkled angels’ wings and made their hair shimmer. Many laughed with joy.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“My children,” bellowed a deep voice. “My children, welcome. Welcome to my church. Today we gather together for the ones who have not honored me to fall. I have a list for my high daughter, Muriel. I love you all, even those who fall. I am watching your every move, sons and daughters. I know everything about you.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>The light flashed, practically blinding Annabelle and Stelle, and a piece of paper floated down into Muriel’s hands. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>She could barely stifle her gasp. “When…I read your name…please come to me immediately. I will count to 3 and you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want. At 3, you jump and you begin falling.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Hills, Geoffrey,” Muriel began. Every time someone’s name was called, they’d jump and scream.<span>  </span>“Richards, Christina…(scream)…Parker, Juliet…(scream)…Ch-Charles…Annabelle.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle wanted to scream, ‘WHAT?!’ but instead she stared straight ahead at Muriel. Annabelle turned to Stelle. Stelle had a bewildered look on her face, so she had heard too. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Charles, Annabelle.” Muriel said again, this time more smoothly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“C-c-coming.” Annabelle muttered. Stelle rubbed Annabelle’s hand and shook her head. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I don’t know what you did, but what the heck am I gonna do without you?” Stelle’s eyes watered up and eventually she started crying. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I love you, Stelle,” Annabelle squeezed Stelle’s hand. Tommy was at the aisle and pulled Annabelle into a passionate kiss. “And I love you too, Tommy.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Tommy almost laughed, but only a half-smile made its way onto his face. “Love you.” he muttered sadly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle walked down the aisle to Muriel, finally. “Muriel? There has to be a mistake…”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“No mistake. I told you to watch what you do, daughter,” Muriel sighed. “I loved you Annabelle. You were the only one who understood me. You died at 5, also, and I felt like I could tell you anything. I felt as if you were my daughter, and I was your mother.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yes. I never knew well enough what it was like to have a mother.” Annabelle nodded. She remembered her mother screaming her name when she ran into the 7Eleven and when the Cadillac had run her over.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“You have a visitor.” said an echoic voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“M-mummy?” Annabelle twirled around.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“My daughter.” a ghost-like figure floated toward Annabelle, pulling her into an embrace.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“When did you die? How come you aren’t with me?” Annabelle asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I live at the Heavenly Village. I died a few months ago. My daughter, you really did need me these years. You are falling today and I’m afraid I’m quite disappointed. But Annie, my daughter, I still love you.” Annabelle’s mother smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I still love you, too.” Annabelle sniffled. Her mom kissed her hair and then shoved her toward the black hole.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Take my hand, dearest, and let me count to 3.” Muriel held out her hand.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle squeezed so tight she thought she heard Muriel whimper. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“3.” and Annabelle automatically jumped into the whole. Pain struck Annabelle in every possible way. Her heart ached, her side shed blood and her ankles felt as if they were broken. Her clothes were ripped from her body and her hair was contorted this way and that. Annabelle could barely feel her hands.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Her limbs grew skinnier and she suddenly felt sleepy, maybe even drugged. Annabelle felt bags grow under her eyes. Then her hair was pulled out of her head and grew back, but instead of golden hair, she had midnight black hair, with no moon or star to sparkle it. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Dark clothes were wrapped around Annabelle’s chest and waist and legs. Knee-length leather boots, a ripped up black skirt, and torn leather tube top with a black moon brooch stabbed into her chest. Annabelle didn’t bleed. Annabelle didn’t even feel the pain she would have felt in Heaven.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span><em>Whump</em>. Annabelle crashed to the ground. “Another one?” a voice cackled. The person (or dead thing?) started dragging Annabelle by her ankles. Still, no pain.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Welcome, Fallen Angel, to the Underworld. No, there is no fire or ice or all that crap. It’s just a smelly place but with good cooks. I see you are one of our new ones? Along with Isabella Zagala and Reise Maron. I see that Fallen Angel clothes fit you nicely.” the ‘dead-thing’ revealed himself.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>He had a bony face and it looked like he was sucking in his cheeks. His hair fell around his face loosely. On the last remark the man made, he glanced at Annabelle’s chest. Crossing her arms, Annabelle said, “What’s your name, pervert?”<br />
<span>            </span>“Drew.” he laughed. “And yours?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Annabelle.” Annabelle said simply.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I understand. Well follow me, Annabelle. Your roommate is waiting.” Drew grabbed Annabelle’s arm. Seeing it stick out like that, she noticed how visible her wrist and finger bones were, and how thin and frail the arm looked. Drew’s arm looked the same. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle then noticed the pale white skin. It was white, but kind of warm. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>They passed bubbling purple swamps and green flowing rivers. Annabelle saw a girl that looked like Persephone, the Goddess of Springtime, sitting under a pomegranate tree, reading. Drew tugged her arm harder and Annabelle almost fell forward. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Careful.” Drew grumbled to me. Annabelle glared back at Drew, saying with her eyes that he had been the one to pull me first. He rolled his eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Now that you’re settled in, dinner is ready at 4:30 AM. Our time is different from Heaven’s. We’re up doing the night and asleep during the day. Hope you’ll get used to it soon.” Drew clapped his hands.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Annabelle nodded to him and then grabbed her suitcase, practically shooing Drew out. She wondered how all her clothes had gotten here and how they’d all turn black and gray. Annabelle just pulled on some black sweats over her skirt and a gray jacket. If she hated black, she might as well be lazy and wear hideous clothes too.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Hey, you’re my new roommate?” a girl walked out of the bathroom. Annabelle was intimidated immediately. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Um, I guess. My name’s Annabelle.” Annabelle nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Ah, so…angel-like. I’m Satin. Our names are changed after one week of being in the Underworld. After one week, you are for the Underworld forever. Being sent back up to Heaven is possible, but it rarely ever happens.” Satin said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“What will my name be?” Annabelle asked curiously. She tugged on her shirt nervously.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I dunno. Morticia, maybe. Coldkissa.” Satin shrugged.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“What was your old name?” Annabelle took a step toward Satin, almost fully regaining her confidence.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Rainia.” Satin said. Satin was wearing a strapless, black, well, satin dress and black boots. She had a gray shrug tied around her shoulders and black hair cut to her chin. Around her neck was a silver chain with a black pentagram hanging off it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“What grade does the pentagram represent?” Annabelle asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Junior. You’re one, too right? You’ll get yours after dinner.” Satin didn’t let Annabelle answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Yeah, I’m a junior…did you immediately go to the um, Underworld or did you fall first?” Annabelle looked around the room.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“I fell first. Only three Fallen Angels went straight to the Underworld. They’re the Satan Followers, as everyone calls them.” Satin’s face hardened. She glared at the ground for a moment.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Scary. So…what time is it?” Annabelle said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“You’re full of questions aren’t you? I feel like I’m being interrogated by a policeman…it’s 4:20. Ooh, we have to get to dinner in ten minutes. Better get going.” Satin stood up. She seemed to hesitate at grabbing Annabelle’s hand, but took it anyway, and tugged hard.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Again, Annabelle almost fell forward. “Whoa.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“We can’t be late for dinner, especially since a bunch of new fallen angels are coming down. Blackwing will freak.” Satin started running with Annabelle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Blackwing?” Annabelle raised her eyebrows.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“The head of our whole…thing. He’s the closest thing to Vampyra.” Satin explained.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Vampyra? I thought you were ruled by Hades.” Annabelle frowned.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“We <em>were</em>, but Vampyra trumps Hades. She was his most recent wife, too recent to be put in books. And she is not a vampire. She got her name Vampyra from Christina. She was immediately sent down from earth to the Underworld. That’s how evil she is.” Satin said, out of breath by the time she finished.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>“Wow, I never knew.” Annabelle said with surprise. Satin pulled Annabelle even faster and they burst through the doors and into the dinner hall.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Luckily, the welcome service hadn’t start yet, so Satin and Annabelle ran down the aisle to their seats. The kids were arranged by their grades and roommates. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>Right when their butts touched the cold, glossy surface of the bench, an extremely loud voice blasted and bounced off the walls in the room. “Welcome back students, and welcome to your new home, Fallen Angels. After our meal, I will explain and answer your questions. So, <em>eat</em>.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>            </span>And immediately, out of fear, the students began eating their meals. It seemed so long, and Annabelle wasn’t hungry. She spooned out mashed potatoes with some kind of red sauce on it. The food tasted odd but good. She’d have to get used to it anyway. </span></span></p>
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		<title>Dawn and Conner Continued&#8230;.5</title>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Aug 2008 20:54:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Chapter X   When the news of Dawn’s departure reached Conner after he stepped out of his uncle’s bedchamber, he was devastated.   “What?” he said.   “I am sorry, sir.” the servant bowed and left quickly to inform the other servants and kitchen hands.   “Gone…?” Conner fell against the wall. “Oh, good gracious.” [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=26&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter X</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">When the news of Dawn’s departure reached Conner after he stepped out of his uncle’s bedchamber, he was devastated.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What?” he said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am sorry, sir.” the servant bowed and left quickly to inform the other servants and kitchen hands.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Gone…?” Conner fell against the wall. “Oh, good gracious.” he said bitterly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, I <em>do</em> hope you’re happy, Conner,” Austin spat the name. “My plan is rotten now.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Plan?” Conner stared into his younger brother’s eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, plan! But it’s ruined, because of you! I need Dawn.” Austin sighed annoyingly and loudly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I suppose I am sorry, then, Brother.” Conner bowed his head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“How is uncle?” Austin asked quickly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Not well. I do not suppose he will be living much longer.” Conner said gravely.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Excellent,” Austin said under his breath and grinned. “Devastating indeed.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes,” Conner’s voice cracked. “Mother ordered me the clean out Dawn’s chamber. Good day, Brother.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Don’t turn into a peasant, High Brother!” Austin called after him.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">When Conner finished Dawn’s bedchamber, which was quite soon because Dawn mostly slept with her was-to-be husband, he picked up Ruby and told her the news.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>   </span>What? She’s gone? I don’t believe it. What had gotten into her?</span></span></em></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span></span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;">“I am not sure, Ruby. We shall live, though. I do have duties to take my mind off her. I will miss her, but I suppose she’s just another bride that rejected the coldness of my brother.” Conner said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I agree. I know you…liked her, Conner. But at least you still have me.</em> Ruby licked the side of Conner’s face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes.” Conner said simply. He began to stand, and Ruby slid off his lap.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Perhaps she will come back to visit?</em> Ruby asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Perhaps…” Conner nodded and held out his arm for Ruby to scurry up on.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Do not act like this forever. You have duties, and you mustn’t hide yourself from the people that enjoy your presence. You should visit your mother everyday, your uncle twice, make newsletters to the town once a week, and make sure you get every meal. Speaking of newsletters, I believe you should make one about Dawn. The people have the right to know.</em> Ruby soon gave Conner plenty to do.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you. I shall get on to that now.” Conner hurried to the castle and began his work. He knew he would soon forget about Dawn, and plus, he had much to do, much to catch up on. And he also needed to keep a watchful eye on his little brother Austin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>So Conner began the rest of his life, without Princess Dawn of Bluesky Valley. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br />
</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:20pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Three Years Later</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:20pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br />
</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter XI</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Prince Conner woke up that morning and found his ferret, Ruby, snoozing by his feet. He turned to put on his morning glasses and fetch his robe.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning, Chris.” Conner bowed quickly to his chamber servant.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning,” Christopher bowed back slowly. “How are you?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Quite tired.” Conner slipped on his velvet robe and let Ruby climb up to his shoulder.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“This was dropped off by your door this morning.” Chris bent and picked up something that looked like a picture frame.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I was expecting it.” Conner nodded and took the picture frame. He turned it over to see the picture. It was of a beautiful girl, with jet black and white highlights you could barely see. Her deep blue eyes were, well, deep and dark. Her lips were in a straight line. She was simply beautiful.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>It was Princess Dawn. Conner had not forgotten as he had hoped he would.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“’Morning, Brother.” Conner said to his younger brother, Prince Austin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning.” Austin did not look at Conner, for he was too occupied with his new fiancée, Princess Sabrina of Greater Greenfields.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning, Conner!” Sabrina chirped joyfully.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning, Sabrina.” Conner said calmly. Prince Austin was still rude, cold-hearted, and mean, don’t forget that, but Sabrina had distracted him, so he didn’t have time to be rude.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner did admit, Sabrina was pretty. Her long and wavy reddish-brown hair, big brown eyes, and joyful attitude made her very nice to be around. Some people say she should have been for Conner, but Conner did not accept anymore marriage offers, to his mother’s dismay.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Oh, I forgot about King Ray! Yes, King Ray died, and Queen Imani could not find anyone who was brave enough to rule in his place, so Conner took his duties, as a Prince and a King. Now, Queen Imani mourns over two deaths. Yes, she is still mourning over her old husband’s death.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner still had Ruby and he could still talk to her. Of course Conner wasn’t happy. He hadn’t seen Dawn in three years, and the whole castle had hoped he would have. Everyday Conner walked to the very willow tree where Dawn had scraped her cheek. The branch was stained with her blood, so Conner broke off the branch and preserved it in his room above the fireplace in a glass case. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mornin’ Prince Conner.” Cook Devon said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning, Sir.” Conner said quietly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What would you like?” Devon asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What’s available?” Conner replied.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Eggs, bacon, pancakes, pumpkin juice, sweet rolls—”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I don’t want anything, thank you.” Conner interrupted abruptly and left. Ruby shrugged at Devon and jumped after Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>What’s wrong, Conner?</em> the ferret asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I feel that something will happen today.” Conner said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You say that everyday. It’s probably a false alarm.</em> Ruby looked at Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes…you’re right. Shall we go to the willow garden?” Conner nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Yes, of course.</em> Ruby jumped off Conner’s hand and bounded in front of him. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Conner and Ruby had a picnic under the tree they called Moonlit Dawn. Moonlit, because every night the moon would shine through the leaves, and Dawn after the princess that had climbed up the tree one wonderful evening.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Did you hear the recent news? A princess from the west just died. I believe it was one of Dawn’s sisters. Tragic, is it not?</em> Ruby nibbled on a scone.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, very.” Conner’s face lighted up at the mention of Dawn’s name.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>They were planning to have the funeral here. They said these gardens were more acceptable for the funeral. Plus, there’s a graveyard here also, and plenty of people from other districts are buried here. </em>Ruby thought casually.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Are they?” Conner asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Ruby nodded and glanced up at Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Splendid,” Conner smiled. “Did I not tell you something was going to happen today? Oh, I <em>do</em> hope Dawn will be there.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I never said we were invited. It was </em>Austin’s <em>bride, not yours. I do not think Queen Imani could stand another funeral.</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span></span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;">“But I am in the king’s place. I should definitely be there.” Conner said arrogantly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Now don’t get haughty, Conner. You still are considered the rank of a prince, you know.</em> Ruby warned.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner sighed. “I will be there, Ruby. I will.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Of course you will…</em>Ruby grumbled.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br />
</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter XII</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Princess Dawn began to dress in her black clothes. Her step-sister Martha had died of a terrible sickness last night, and to Dawn’s dismay, the funeral was being held at a neighboring kingdom. That neighboring kingdom was where Prince Austin’s family resided. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn was also engaged with another prince. It was arranged, and she did not think she could come to love the man, which Crimson, her pet raccoon, confirmed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I know you still remember him.</em> Crimson said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well of course I do. He was the only man there that I would’ve been able to come to love!” Dawn exploded. She pulled her black dress over her head and tied the gold rope around her waist. She then braided a few strands of her hair and then laced up her black boots.<span>  </span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Miss Dawn, it is time to go. They are loading the coffin into the carriage now. Please come quickly.” Dawn’s servant called through the door.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Coming.” Dawn sighed. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Quickly, now.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I said I was coming.” Dawn snapped. She hurried out of her bedchamber and joined her other family members.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Queen Aria was weeping and her second husband had his arms wrapped around her and his face was buried in her hair.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mother, Scott.” Dawn curtsied twice, once to each. Scott was Dawn’s step-father; Aria had lost her first husband in a war. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, will you please start thinking of Scott as your father?” Queen Aria said between sobs.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mother, I only love one father, and that was my real father. Give it up already.” Dawn kept her head high and shot King Scott a hateful look. He didn’t notice, just kept his face in his wife’s hair.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Fine!” Queen Aria sobbed harder. Dawn joined her favorite sister, Emilie.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good afternoon, Dawn.” Emilie sighed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Emilie, I know you’re sad. I am, too. But I’m still worried about going to Austin’s kingdom.” Dawn wrapped one arm around her sister’s waist.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s okay, Dawn. You’ll get through it. Did you get the black roses?” Emilie asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes. Here is yours.” Dawn pinned a small black rose to Emilie’s chest.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you.” Emilie nodded and embraced Dawn.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn hugged back and whispered, “It’s going to be all right. Martha will be taken to Heaven and rejoice with our Lord.” but that wasn’t what Dawn was worried about.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">On the way to Queen Imani’s kingdom, Dawn, Queen Aria, and Emilie were put in a carriage together. Emilie had her arm around her mother’s shoulders as she cried on Emilie’s shoulder.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mother, calm down. You’re supposed to cry at the funeral, not before hand.” Dawn rubbed Aria’s knee.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I know, I know.” Aria nodded sadly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s okay, Mother. Martha’s okay. Her spirit still lives.” Emilie comforted.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you, Emilie.” Aria lifted her head and sat up straight, dabbing her eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s true, though.” Dawn agreed. Dawn remembered Crimson on her lap, who was snoozing. He planned to stay awake for the ceremony, but Dawn really needed to talk to him; she poked his stomach twice, but Crimson didn’t budge. Dawn picked him up, lifted him a few inches above her lap, and then dropped him.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Ahhh, Dawn! Don’t do that! You could’ve given me a heart attack.</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span>We need to talk.</span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;"> Dawn thought to Crimson.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You’re still worried about Conner aren’t you?</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span>Don’t say his name!</span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;"> Dawn winced.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Sorry.</em> Crimson apologized feebly. <em>Just try to ignore him. I’ll keep my eye on him throughout the ceremony. Anyways, who knows, he might not be there.</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span>I hope so. But I’m sure he’s eager to see me. Wouldn’t you agree?</span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;"> Dawn looked at Crimson’s deep black eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Perhaps</em>. Crimson nodded thoughtfully. <em>How much longer?</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I think we’re almost there…yes, there’s the castle.” Dawn said aloud to everyone, including Crimson.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Aria sniffed and said, “I shall be strong. Let us join the family who is hosting this sad funeral.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good, Mother. Just calm yourself. You can get through this.” Dawn nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Emilie nodded at Dawn, and they stepped out of the carriage together, linking arms. “This is so sad.” Emilie noted.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“So you noticed.” Dawn said sarcastically.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, this is serious.” Emilie said. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Sorry, I’m just worried.” Dawn looked across the flowery garden. The sky was gray and it was cold and windy. Emilie and Dawn parted and took Queen Aria between them.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mother, it’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.” Emilie said for the millionth time.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I think she knows, Emilie.” Dawn said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, remember, serious.” Emilie hissed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn looked down and gave Emilie an apologetic look.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Girls, don’t get in a fight. Not when the Lord is going to take a body into heaven. Not when He’s going to be here.” Aria scolded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Sorry, Mother.” the sisters mumbled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ah, I see the gathering! Such a small royal family this kingdom has. The castle is bigger than ours, yet they only have three people.” Aria exclaimed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes.” Dawn agreed and searched for the gathering. Sure enough, Dawn saw the back of Queen Imani, Prince Austin, and the back of a princess Dawn did not recognize. Prince Conner seemed to not have arrived.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Speaking of Princes, Dawn’s betrothed could not make it, which was good, because Dawn did not want to see Conner’s hurt face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Queen Imani!” Aria gushed and hugged Austin’s mother.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Welcome, Aria,” Imani smiled hugged back. “I am terribly sorry for the loss of your loved one.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Do not worry. Martha’s spirit still lives. This is my eldest daughter, Emilie.” Aria stepped aside and brought Emilie forward.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good afternoon, Emilie,” Imani hugged Dawn’s sister. “I am sorry about Martha.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s a pleasure to meet you. It’s all right, Imani. It was going to happen someday.” Emilie smiled sadly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn! A pleasure to see you again.” Imani shook Dawn’s hand.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hello, Imani.” Dawn smiled weakly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Austin, Dawn is here.” Imani tugged at her son’s sleeve.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn! Hello, Dawn. Welcome back!” Austin turned and greeted Dawn eagerly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Who’s this?” Dawn shook Austin’s hand and looked to the princess.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“This is my new wife, Sabrina.” Austin grinned at Princess Sabrina.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hello, Dawn.” Sabrina smiled warmly and met Dawn with a hug.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve been wondering who Austin’s new bride was.” Dawn couldn’t help but return the smile.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am so sorry about your step-sister. It must be hard for you.” Sabrina said sympathetically.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Don’t worry, Sabrina,” Dawn nodded solemnly. “Has Conner joined another kingdom? I haven’t seen him anywhere.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I was sure you were going to ask about him. He’s coming down right now.” Austin looked as if it were a bad thing.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn eagerly turned to see the tall and handsome Prince Conner walking across the field with his hands in his pockets. Dawn could see an animal on Conner’s shoulder. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>It’s Ruby!</em> Crimson said excitedly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, it is!” Dawn whispered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I haven’t seen you this excited since you were ten-years-old when you met me.</em> Crimson noted.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn ignored the comment and turned when Conner started lifting his head from watching the ground. Queen Imani met King Scott and the other daughters and when Conner arrived, Dawn ran off to the other side of the gathering to meet the servants and to greet them. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn watched Conner meet Emilie, and saw him look admiringly at her. Dawn almost panicked, but then reminded herself that she wasn’t in love with him. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I can tell you envy Emilie</em>. Crimson bared his teeth in a grinning way.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hush up.” Dawn hissed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Crimson quieted and the ceremony began. Dawn took her place beside between Aria and her other step-sister, Lina.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>There were prayers and each person from Martha’s family gave a small speech about her. Dawn had said, “Martha was a sweet girl. She was very generous, and helped the servants out in the garden without being asked. She would do things for my family and I. I wish she was still alive.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you, Dawn. Lina, would you please say yours.” the minister asked. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn was silent and listened to her step-sister’s speech, which was more heartfelt and long. Dawn felt tears coming on, but not because of her dear sister, because of Conner. She wanted him by her side more than anything, right then and there, but she didn’t. She didn’t want him to love her, but she realized she loved him. Crimson nuzzled Dawn’s neck in a comforting way, and Dawn looked down at her hands. <em>I love him</em>, she thought just as the gathering departed for lemonade and food. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Dawn look</em>. Crimson said urgently.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn looked up to see Austin pulling Conner by his neck ferociously farther away from the gathering. “Come on.” Dawn began to walk quickly over to Austin and Conner. She listened closely behind a tree.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Your time has come, Conner.” Austin said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What do you mean?” Conner growled. It didn’t sound like a question at all.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What part of ‘your time has come’ don’t you understand?” Austin asked coldly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Never mind. Well, I don’t think you can do it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Crimson</em>. Dawn whined in her head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>We can’t do anything. Just listen, but if you can’t bare it, I’ll tell you what happened.</em> Crimson said sadly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>No. </em>Dawn thought simply.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Conner, I could’ve done this when Uncle died. <em>I</em> was the one who killed him. <em>I</em> was the one who poisoned his food. It was me. And I killed Father.” Austin said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Y-you?” Conner’s voice was weaker and horrified.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, I.” Austin said. Dawn heard him pull something out of his back pocket.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span><span> </span>“Austin, why are you doing those things? Why are you doing <em>this</em>?” Conner asked, and Dawn heard him fall back onto a tree.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Power,” Austin said with an obvious tone. “I will kill Sabrina by the time I’m king anyway. No one can rule with me. I rule alone.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Power? What can you do with power?” Conner asked with his voice cracking.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Everything.” Austin stepped forward, holding whatever it was in his hand, which was raised above his head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Austin, please. Please, no. Are you going to kill Mother, too?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Of course. I shall rule faster.” Austin stepped again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Austin! Austin, no!” Conner pleaded. “Austin—!”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span>“Any last words?” Austin asked frostily.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn!” and then Conner’s voice was cut off by a slicing noise and Dawn’s scream.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“CONNER!” she screamed. “AUSTIN WHAT DID YOU DO?”<br />
<span>  </span>“I did what I had to.” he had a bloody knife in his hand</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“CONNER, NO!” Dawn screamed. Crimson was hissing and chirping at Austin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Get that filth away from me!” Austin said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“NO!” Dawn cried. “No…”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Aw, is the poor girl sad that her love is dead?” Austin asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“AUSTIN, I HATE YOU!” Dawn screamed. She lay her sobbing self over Conner’s limp body.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Um, I already know that.” Austin looked over at Dawn. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, and then raised his knife.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><span> </span>“NO!” Queen Aria screamed, but it was too late. Austin plunged the knife into Dawn’s back, and the couple lay on top of each other, dead.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“AUSTIN!” Queen Aria tore the knife from Austin’s hand and raised it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No, please, no.” Austin fell to his knees, begging.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Aria!” Imani yelled surprised. She looked at Austin who’s hand were covered in blood, and then she saw Conner and Dawn. “Austin…?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes!” Aria dropped the knife and began crying. “Austin did it.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Austin!” Imani glared at Austin. “You are no son of mine.” she grabbed Austin’s collar and dragged him to the court room. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Aria lay sobbing on the ground with the bloody knife next to her. She peered at Dawn and Conner. There was Crimson, weeping small tears.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Crimson…” Aria started and dried her eyes, but still the tears rolled down.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Can you hear me?</em> Crimson asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes.” Aria breathed. She grabbed Crimson onto her lap. Ruby crept over and joined the queen and Crimson.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Can you hear me?</em> Ruby asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>She can</em>. Crimson nodded. Ruby did a quiet sigh and curled up by Crimson. The raccoon put his paw over Ruby, looking like he was taking her as his.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“My daughter…my son-in-law…” Aria cried. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Many spirits’ bodies have been taken. Today has been a sad day. May our loved ones rest in peace.</em> Ruby and Crimson thought together, crying.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes…” Aria nodded, and began sobbing.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">The End</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br />
</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:small;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;">Prince Austin was sentenced to death by his own mother. He was beheaded in front of a crowd, throwing tomatoes and rocks at him. Queen Imani showed no mercy, when he was. She is in mourning, and believes she will never leave it. Queen Imani does not rule alone. She joined Queen Aria and her family in Bluesky Valley. Bluesky Valley is the first kingdom to be ruled by two women. </span></strong></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:small;"><strong></strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><strong></strong></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><strong>For Dawn and Conner, they were another Romeo and Juliet.</strong></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
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		<title>Incivility and Domination</title>
		<link>http://authorbo.wordpress.com/2008/08/22/incivility-and-domination/</link>
		<comments>http://authorbo.wordpress.com/2008/08/22/incivility-and-domination/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Aug 2008 19:43:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[domination]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[incivility]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[new new story]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://authorbo.wordpress.com/?p=23</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Chapter 1   Brooke Gonzalez sat up in her bed and pulled on her clothes. It was the second day of school and she needed to make an entrance. Yesterday didn’t go well; first, Brooke’s friend Amber broke her mom’s favorite cheetah print heels on the edge of a locker (I know, what the hell?), [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=23&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter 1</span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Brooke Gonzalez sat up in her bed and pulled on her clothes. It was the second day of school and she needed to make an entrance. Yesterday didn’t go well; first, Brooke’s friend Amber broke her mom’s favorite cheetah print heels on the edge of a locker (I know, what the hell?), and then Tess slipped on the waxed floor in her flats and fell on her butt. Brooke stayed perfect and strutted in the halls, trying to ignore the fatality of her friends.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Brooke, Vatina is coming up with your breakfast.” Mrs. Gonzalez said through Brooke’s door.<span>  </span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ugh,” Brooke groaned back through the door. “Ugh, whatever.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Brooke, your eggs and whole wheat pancakes!” Vat came inside.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Knock, Vat!” Brooke screeched at her face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Sorry, Brooke.” Vat bowed quickly and left.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Whatever.” Brooke rolled her eyes. She ate one bite them shoved the plate onto the floor, ignoring the mess.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>She brushed her teeth then pulled on her flip-flops.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“’Morning, Brooke.” her mother said in her Spanish-accent.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“’Morning,” Brooke said dully. “I seriously don’t approve of the school bus. We deserve to have a high-class double-decker. I simply don’t understand why Dad can’t drive me school either.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Brooke, there’s no need to even go to school in a bus! You can just walk on the dirt-road! So bus, or no bus, your choice, <em>pequeño estimado.</em>” Mrs. Gonzalez said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mom, please don’t call me little dear. I’m not little any more.” Brooke groaned and grabbed her book-bag. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hmm…<em>¿Joven mujer? Mi hija? </em>Can I call you any of those?” Brooke’s mother asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“How about Brooke?” Brooke asked and stepped out of the door.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>¡Adiós, el caramelo!</em>” Mrs. Gonzalez called.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Mom, you did <em>not</em> just call me caramel! Ugh, oh well, bye.” Brooke blew a kiss to her mother and strutted onto the bus.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The bus driver politely tipped his hat at Brooke then shut the doors.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Move!” Brooke barked at a classmate she didn’t like.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good morning?” the kid moved to the next seat behind.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yeah, whatever. I <em>so</em> care.” Brooke was amazed how her accent sounded so California-ish instead of Mexican. Brooke didn’t even live in California. She lived in New Mexico, where the dirt roads and little one stories houses were. Brooke was considered rich, with a cozy two-story house, one maid, and a single mother. Amber and Tess had big one-stories.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Brooke!” Amber squealed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Amber, hey.” Brooke smiled politely at her friend. Amber got too excited over things.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You look great. Nice jeans.” Amber toned her voice down a bit and settled down next to her friend.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well of course they look nice, they’re on me, duh!” Brooke rolled her eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“My bad!” Amber sarcastically hit herself in the head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Whatever,” Brooke yawned. She turned her super dark brown haired head to the window to see her friend Tess walking out of her house quickly to catch the bus. “Omigod, Tess is wearing her tennis shoes again!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“God, does she have to be such a tom-boy?” Amber agreed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I don’t know, but I’ll scold her for that.” Brooke glared as the doors opened. They needed to make a good entrance looking as beautiful as possible, yet casual. Tennis shoes were <em>way</em> too casual.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hey guys.” Tess fell down on the seat across from Brooke’s and Amber’s.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Tess, I can’t believe you wore tennis shoes. You could have at least worn fancy Vans!” Brooke said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I couldn’t find my Vans. My <em>madre mala</em> made me wear these ‘cause we were in such a hurry. I was lucky to even be ready to catch the bus.” Tess was known for using insults in Spanish as she just did, calling her mother evil.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Brooke rolled her eyes and then threw a <em>you-better-look-nicer-next time</em> look at Tess.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, sorry for having strict parents.” Tess brought up her book-bag and began searching in it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You’d think strict parents would have their kids dress nicely, don’t you think?” Amber put in.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Shut up, Amber.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Whatever.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Girls, calm down. Don’t make your cheeks all read before we make our entrance.” Brooke wiped her palms on her typical blue jeans.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Amber and Tess both rolled their eyes at the same time. Brooke was always harsh and mean, but her weak side was imperfection. Brooke needed everything perfect and beautiful, and if it wasn’t, it would be held on Brooke for the rest of the year.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“We’re almost there.” Brooke pointed out.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Don’t get so worked up about that stuff. It’s stupid. Everyone knows we dominate and they obey us,” Tess said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yeah, and you’re always perfect anyway.” Amber threw in.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thanks, guys, you’re right. Those losers won’t ever get the chance to dominate until were gone.” Brooke nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No problem.” Amber shook her head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, it’s time for your ‘big entrance.’ ” Tess put quotes around ‘big entrance.’</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ha, ha,” Brooke smiled sarcastically. “Okay, girls. Let’s dominate!”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“The Domination has arrived.” Tess and Amber nod.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter 2</span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Tess, Brooke, and Amber jump off the bus, straighten their clothes, then start strutting to the double doors that entered into the middle school.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Here we go! Don’t be nervous, Tess. You’ve done this so many times it’s stupid, more stupid than it was when it started.</em> Tess thought. Her dark skin and black eyes shone as the sun bounced off.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Girls, let’s go!” Brooke started walking faster.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Chill, Brooke, we’ll get there before we die.” Tess said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You’re <em>going</em> to die if you don’t do what I say.” Brooke growled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Sorry, My Queen.” Tess said in a fake and high baby voice. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Brooke muttered something to Amber, but Tess showed no interest. She didn’t give a darn what Brooke thought, and Tess knew that Brooke just used her ‘cause how pretty and talented Tess was with a pencil and paper. Tess had posters up all around the school, and was famous for being top yearbook editor.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Let’s do this.” Amber said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Can we do it already and stop saying we’re going to?” Tess snapped.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Shut up, Tess. No one asked the female dog to speak.” Brooke said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I’m not a beep, Brooke. I’m a human being with feelings.” Tess replied.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Aw, she has feelings. Aw, she sounds like The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. How sweet.” Brooke smiled gleefully.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Brooke, shut up. We’re at the doors.” Tess slapped Brooke lightly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I’m not an idiot.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Maybe you are.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You don’t mean that.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Maybe I don’t.” Tess retorted, and Brooke replied just as cruelly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>When the friends step across the threshold, they breathe in the scent of their middle school halls. It smelled like new shoes and magazine pages.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Some girls chortled at Brooke in Spanish, and Tess translated for her friends: “<em>Buenas tardes, </em>Brooke.<em> Bienvenido. ¿Oye, </em>Tess,<em> está bien su extremo?</em>” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good afternoon, Brooke. Welcome back. Hey, Tess, is your butt okay?” Tess said to her friends quietly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Whatever, dogs.” Brooke spat.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The girls chortled and then began speaking to each other in rapid Spanish.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Beeps.” Tess rolled her eyes as if she’d seen them all.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Is</em> your butt okay?” Amber joked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, shut up.” Tess mumbled and hid her smile. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>To the girls’ pleasure, everyone was marveling at their muscular soccer legs, perfect clothes, and good facial appearances.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Buenas tardes</em>, girls.” a teacher that Tess didn’t remember hurried by. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Brooke totally ignored the teacher and just walked forward as if no one was there.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Tess and Amber quietly said, “Move.” to everyone in their way, and Brooke would give her icy stare to whoever didn’t. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Overall, the girls did well. Much better than yesterday, and was better than last year, which was simply perfect. I guess you can go over perfect. Well, Brooke sure can.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Tess settled down in class and the day ticked by, the girls going to separate classes, eating different foods, and thinking different thoughts.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">When Tess arrived home she was greeted by her mother.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span></span><span style="font-family:&quot;" lang="FR">“<em>Bienvenido a casa, el bebé. ¿Cómo fue su día?</em>” </span><span style="font-family:&quot;">Mrs. Russo spoke in rapid Spanish. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span><em>Welcome home, baby. How was your day?</em> Tess translated in her head. </span><span style="font-family:&quot;" lang="FR">“Fine, thanks, Mom.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;" lang="FR"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>   </span>“<em>Bueno. Su bienvenida. Los platos están listos, así que va seco ellos por favor. El papá volviendo a casa para cenar, así que mira su mejor, mis jóvenes uno</em>.’’ Mrs. Russo grinned.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:&quot;" lang="FR"><span>  </span></span><em><span style="font-family:&quot;">Good. You’re welcome. The dishes are ready, so go dry them please. Daddy&#8217;s coming home for dinner, so look your best, my young one.</span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;"> “Yes, of course,” Tess nodded. Tess’s dad was divorced, but he dropped in every month or so. “And Mom?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Sí?</em>” Mrs. Russo looked up. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You can talk in English.” Tess smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, sorry dear. I thought it made you feel at home like Mexico does,” Mrs. Russo blushed deeply and brought her hand to her chest. “Forgive me.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s okay, Mom, chill. You’ve committed no crime.” Tess kissed her mother on the cheek and then ran off to dry off the wet dishes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">When Tess finished her duty, she dragged her book-bag across the carpet to the living room where her little brothers were playing. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Buenas tardes, hijos.</em>” Tess said in Spanish. Junior and Carlos were supposed to grow up learning Spanish, but somehow they got around to learning English, too.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Buenas tardes</em>.” they said in unison. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Be quiet ‘cause I’m doing my homework.” Tess said quickly before Carlos pressed the button on a fire truck for the siren.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Sí.</em>” they said again together.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Tess laughed then started on her arithmetic. The whole time she was thinking about Brooke and Amber. Tess was more of the nicer ones of the girls. She didn’t mean any harm to the other kids at school, but Brooke’s reputation made Tess’s, so Tess just looked like another mean girl. It was like being trapped in a mean girl’s body. Tess thought “The Domination” for the group’s name was pathetic and stupid, which made sense because Amber was the one who chose. Amber’s brain was filled with cobwebs and bubble gum. A.k.a. nothing. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Tess pitied Amber because she wasn’t smart enough to stand up for herself, and always had to take the blame for Brooke’s mess ups, which made Brooke even more perfect.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>It’s a cruel world,</em> Tess thought. <em>Cruel because people like Brooke live in it. Uncivilized people like Brooke. </em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Tess!” Carlos screeched.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>¿Qué?</em>” Tess jumped and looked at her brother.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>¡Usted aplasta nuestro juguete del estrujón!</em>” Junior exclaimed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Crushing your squeeze toy? What squeeze—</em> “Oh. Sorry.” Tess said in English. She dropped the squeeze toy that she found in her hand. She was apparently ‘crushing’ it, or that’s what Junior said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Gracias.</em>” Carlos thanked Tess calmly and began squeezing it, making sure it was okay.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You guys are too loud. I’m going to my room.” Tess stood up and dragged her book-bag down the hall and to the right where her room’s door was. Tess’s room was medium sized and it had one window, a huge bookshelf, a tall dresser, a closet, and a twin-size bed. Those were the main things that you noticed immediately. Tess also had a big jewelry box filled gold jewelry from her mother and grandma. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Just as the girl was about to settle down in her chair by her desk, Tess’s phone beeped wildly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>It was from Brooke:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Brooke: Tess, did U finish your homework yet?</span></span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Just asking for answers. Tess would give her right ones and wrong ones. More wrong than right so Brooke would get a D.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;">Tess: Yeah. Here, lemme give U the answers.</span></strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Brooke: Thanks. Mom will kill me if I fail the class. </span></span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Tess: Sure thing. </span></span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">So Tess gave her ‘friend’ mostly wrong answers on the homework, and as she did, Tess marked the right ones on her paper. Just at the last few questions, Tess’s mom called, “<em>Mi’jita! </em>Daddy’s here!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Tess: Gotta go. Figure the last three out yourself. My dad’s here.</span></span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><strong><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></strong></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">And Tess shut her phone quickly, blocking the next messages that came from Brooke.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Daddy!” Tess squealed and jumped into her father’s arms.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>¡Pastel de Cherry!</em>” Mr. Russo hugged his daughter. He called Tess ‘cherry pie’ because when Tess was a baby, her cheeks were as red as cherries, and Tess’s favorite food had always been pie. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Papá</em>,” Junior and Carlos ran out of the living room and to their father.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>¡Mis hijos! Los que yo no he visto en para siempre.</em>” Mr. Russo grinned as he lifted the two brothers up in his strong arms.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“How are you, Rico?” Mrs. Maria Russo asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Fine.” Mr. Rico Russo nodded and set down the boys.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Tess picked up Carlos, the younger of the two, and walked into the kitchen. “Carlos is hungry, Ma.” </span></span><em><span style="line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"></span></em></p>
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		<title>That Girl</title>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Aug 2008 20:35:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Chapter 1   My name is Noelle Erin Chappue. Chappue is a French name, but I’m more Irish than I am French. I’m still referred to as ‘that French girl.’ I like France better than Ireland anyway, so I don’t correct them.   My life is boring. A typical eleven-year-old girl’s life. I’m going into [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=20&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:30pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter 1</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;">My name is Noelle Erin Chappue. Chappue is a French name, but I’m more Irish than I am French. I’m still referred to as ‘that French girl.’ I like France better than Ireland anyway, so I don’t correct them.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My life is boring. A typical eleven-year-old girl’s life. I’m going into fifth grade, and school starts in four days. I’m not as psyched about it anymore, but I still can hardly stand the hot summer days. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I have blonde hair with natural highlights: gold, white (only a little), brown, black, and dark blonde and light blonde. All natural. And yes, I like spelling <em>blonde</em> with an ‘<em>e.</em>’ Then I have gray-blue eyes, the only color I could ask for. I wear glasses and braces, and still the most popular dude in class loves me. Sometimes I think I <em>am</em> kinda pretty. That feeling doesn’t last for long.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My dad tells me my legs are long and muscular, thanks to basketball and track &amp; field. My arms are finally developing muscles, which is a relief, ‘cause now I think I can challenge a boy to an arm wrestle match. My neck is long and you can see my collarbone clearly. You can see my ribs clearly, too. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My legs are bruised, scabbed, and always has some kind of dirt on them. I hate showers, so I only take them every few days. I used to hardly ever take any, and got away with being dirty for a month! Then I thought how dirty I would be and how smelly my armpits are, and my mom also made me, so I started taking showers. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I have no style. I don’t care. I just throw on whatever’s available. Yet, it ‘always looks good on me’ not matter what. That’s what my sister says. I <em>do</em> love ripped jeans and ripped tank tops over plain black t-shirts. I like those rebellious clothes, they’re so awesome. Right now I’m wearing a white t-shirt with a sun and flowers on it. It’s sorta shiny at places. My skirt is a blue plaid one. Do you think a white, pink, and orange t-shirt would go with a turquoise-blue plaid skirt? Not really. But my sisters say it’s cute on me.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I think I’m boring you, so let me start on some other people; I have my mom Diane Chappue, my dad, Christopher Chappue, my oldest sister, Kathryn Chappue, and my next oldest, Nicolette Chappue. I’m the youngest, whoop-dee-doo. It’s not so great. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I can’t wait for Nicolette to go to college. She’s only a sophomore in high school, and Kathryn’s a freshman in college. Well, Kathryn isn’t entirely a freshman <em>yet</em>. She starts in September 20<sup>th</sup> or something, I don’t know. So she’s been taking care of me this whole week. My mom works everyday of her life, except the weekends as an engineer up in Menlo Park area at SLAC Stanford. My dad’s a teacher and Archbishop Mitty High School, and Nicolette goes there for her ‘education,’ as my father put it. Kathryn used to go to Presentation, and now is starting her college at UC Santa Cruz. Just about an hour-and-a-half away from San Jose and I’m sure she isn’t happy about that. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I forgot to tell you, my family lives in San Jose, California. I go to Saint Leo the Great School for <em>my</em>… ‘education.’ Hee, hee. San Jose is the city with the third highest population. It’s seven hours away from L.A., but I’m not sure how far away it is from San Diego. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Anyways, since I’m only eleven, you’d expect me to only be allowed to stay at home alone for an hour, right? Well Kathryn left about an hour ago to her friend’s house, and I’m not supposed to tell Mom about her leaving me alone. She better be back by lunch time, ‘cause I don’t know how to heat up soup on the stove. I can take care of myself pretty well, but once I was stupid enough to touch the banana bread pan right after it came out of the oven. I knew I was going to drop it, so I set it down on the ground in the middle of the floor, and was dense enough to touch the side. OW! Uh-huh, ya think? Dad doesn’t like me using the oven very much any more.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Yes, I made the banana bread myself. No, it was very easy. And still is. Dad got me two cans of delicious soup, beef barley and chicken noodle. I haven’t had either in a while. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My thoughts were interrupted by the TV: “I DON’T BELIEVE IN THE DENTIST!” I groan and lower down the volume. The lady wasn’t actually yelling the line, it’s just Kathryn likes to have things on really loud. Music, TV, radio, et cetera, et cetera. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Speaking of which, I love music. My favorite band is <em>Secondhand Serenade</em>, and my favorite artist is Avril Lavigne. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Again, my thoughts are interrupted. The double-doors to my parents’ room opened and closed with a slam. There it is again. I check to see if someone’s in the house, and find nothing. It’s probably the wind. It <em>is</em> a windy afternoon today.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>It’s Thursday, August 21, 2008. I start school on the 25<sup>th</sup>. I’m very bored right now, and I’m not showing any of the Olympics. The only event I enjoy watching is gymnastics, and I get tired of it after a half-hour or an hour. I’m not sure if I’m watching Apparatus (whatever that is) or jump-roping. I’ll look it up later.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I’m not like other kids. I like to be able to understand things other kids forget about. Sometimes I search online and take free math quizzes on long division and multiplication, and I reread my summer reading books, just so I’m ready for the reading test we have at the beginning of the year. I might have to write an essay on it, too, but that would be easy, ‘cause I’d be able to take it home and look in the book for answers. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I enjoy school ‘cause of the boys. They’re all hilarious, and the girls are sweet. I hope we get a new girl, ‘cause I want to move on from my friends Amelia and Marissa. Amelia and I are the closest friends in the class. We both want to, well I know this sounds harsh but I can’t find any other words, get rid of Marissa. Shake her off our shoes, you know? Marissa is a backstabber, secret-telling, self-absorbed, jerk. I do not enjoy her company. She’s always bringing up the past when I hurt her feelings or something. Well, Marissa makes little dents as life goes on, and it all values up to a huge one. Some friend…</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>If I can’t get rid of Marissa, then I’m gonna find a way to make friends with the new girl, if we get one. I hope Amelia will stay along and help, but she might not. She can be too nice, and I know it’s hard for her to try and tell someone whose been her friend since kindergarten, but Amelia gets annoyed by Marissa, too. Marissa copies Amelia’s every move, every drawing stroke, every decision, and Amelia can get fed up with it. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Marissa stops for a day, then goes right back to it. Marissa also tells all of Amelia’s secrets. So Amelia doesn’t trust Marissa either. This whole thing is confusing, I know. So, Marissa worships Amelia, and shows it by annoying her, being untrustworthy, and doesn’t act like a friend to her.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I don’t like sounding selfish and proud, so I try not to take any part of the conversation if Marissa and Amelia are mad at each other. Sometimes, when I do sound selfish and proud, I get disappointed in myself. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I don’t have much else to say, so I guess I’ll tell you about what happens at nighttime. My parents and Nicolette go to bed around 10:00 PM, and I usually settle down for sleep around 1:00 AM. Late, I know, but I only get tired around then. When school starts, I get up around 6:00 AM, so I’m going to have to fall asleep around 10:00 or 11:00 PM. What do I do from 10:00 to 1:00? I read, watch videos on the computer, surf online, sit down by the window and let the breeze flow through my hair. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dad makes really good dinners. Since I’m so used to it, I don’t get excited about steak and lamb chops. Most people do, ‘cause my baby-sitter was always so surprised by the kind of dinners I tell her about. Dad makes this Italian spaghetti, with thin noodles, Japanese long beans, expensive bacon, egg and cheese for coating the noodles, and cut up little grilled onions. It’s my favorite dinner he makes. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>He made homemade macaroni and cheese three times, which always lasted for the whole week. Everything in the macaroni was exotic. Bacon imported from Italy, bread crumbs from France or something, the macaroni from somewhere in Europe, and the cheese is from Europe, too. That whole thing was a very European dish. Dad makes all-American dinners, too; white corn still on the cob, butter for the corn, delicious rib-eye steaks, and tomato salad which is sliced tomatoes bathed in red wine vinegar with garlic and salt and pepper sprinkled over it. It’s delicious. I also love artichokes. We used to have artichokes for dessert, taking off the leaf (or whatever you call it) and dipping it in butter sauce, then scraping off the flesh with our teeth. Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm, GOOD! Hee, hee. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Now that you know pretty much everything about me, let’s start on the next chapter with people talking.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Georgia;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:30pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter 2</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:30pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;">When I woke up this morning, it was like, I don’t know, 6:55 AM, and Dad and Nicolette were getting ready to leave.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Nicolette almost lost her ride to school ‘cause she had to brush her teeth and Dad doesn’t like waiting. She is such a drama queen. I’m not afraid of her. All she can do is give me bruises and call me stupid and swear at me. Wow, so scary. It might sound scary to you, but I’m sorta used to it. The only person who punishes Nicolette for that stuff is Dad, who is a pushover with me. Hee, hee.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I don’t know when Mom leaves, ‘cause by the time she does, I’m already asleep again. So, I fall asleep at 7:00 AM or something, then wake up at 10:30 AM. I don’t know when Kathryn wakes up, not that I care really, ‘cause I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself for a whole day as long as I have food that can be cooked in the microwave, or can be made without heating up needed. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>When I wake up, I automatically pull on my robe and go downstairs, whether it’s hot or not. I guess that routine sorta worked itself into my system. So, downstairs I open up the cupboard and look at the cereals available. Most of the time there’s <em>Honey Nut Cheerios </em>or <em>Multi-Grain Cheerios.</em> Those are both okay. If there’s <em>Mini-Wheats</em> then I try to just eat a banana. I love bananas…tee, hee. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Anyways, moving on. After that I go upstairs, watch TV or read. I try not to go online ‘cause I know I shouldn’t be on all day, and I hate lying to Mom when she asks if I’m on the computer all day. I just recently finishing reading a book called <em>Haters</em>. Um, I don’t think it was made for pre-teens, ‘cause it was in Nicolette’s bookshelf, and it has swear words and inappropriate scenes in it, but Dad says I’m a mature eleven-year-old. I’m not entirely sure that’s good though…</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Haters</em> was a good book, that’s what I’ll say. It’s cool. I liked these Japanese twins Kerani and Keoni. They were funny. Umm, I just noticed Kathryn isn’t home yet, and it’s 1:05 PM. I’m gonna call her. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Please Stand By</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;">Okay, Kathryn’s coming home now. Yay, I get my soup! I think I’ll have chicken noodle first. Wow, I’m boring. Well, I warned you.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I said I have a typical eleven-year-old’s life. I’m in love with a kid named Scott, who has a twin named Daniel. I have one best friend named Amelia. I hate the guy who loves me, who is Jack if you’re wondering. See? Very typical and boring. I guess I’m interesting ‘cause I’ve practically traveled to all the countries in Europe. Ireland, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, and England. I know there’s more, but those are the main ones everyone knows about. Is Iceland in Europe? Yeah, I don’t know either. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>I’ve traveled ‘cause of Dad. His brother and my uncle is a pilot on Delta Airlines, so we get huge discounts and we go traveling in Europe and South America every summer. Next time, I wanna visit Iceland. Ooh, or Finland! Hah, yeah, let’s hope.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My house is a two-story house with several little attics. One down in the garage, and another in the laundry room upstairs. I know there are more, but I don’t know where they are. I have my own room, and it’s the biggest out of my sisters. Odd, huh? I have the biggest, Nicolette has the medium size, and Kathryn has the smallest. I’d be more than happy to move into Nicolette’s room. It’s really nice and where her bed is you can see through the window. I don’t know I just love her room. Maybe we can move next summer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My parents have a huge room. A queen-size bed, a desk with all of Dad’s teacher stuff, two bathrooms, one with a Jacuzzi tub, a shower, three mirrors, and two sinks, one for each of them, and the other one with a toilet, a magazine rack, and a trash can. Very small. Mom has her own hamper and dresser, and they both share a big walk-in closet. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Nicolette has a nice room with a twin-size bed, three kinds of dressers, a closet with lots of space, a small book shelf, a couch, a desk, and a toy-box. Well, Nicolette calls it a trunk, but it’s filled with stuffed animals and binders. Weird? Yes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Kathryn has a queen-sized bed right smack in the middle of her room with a fluffy comforter and awesome pillows. Her white dresser is huge, it’s taller than me. On top it has jewelry boxes with hunks of gold chains hanging out of the side and fake roses sprinkled over everything. She has two candle holders which never have been lit, and incense burners. Kathryn has a big closet with lots of clothes and shoes. She has an easel to paint with and lots of watercolor pencil drawings on it. She also has a desk with money and papers and old college apps scatter over it. CDs and books are under it. I’m not sure why, but when I’m writing it down, Kathryn’s room sounds great, but when you really see it, its small and there’s a very small amount of ground you can see. Right now you probably can’t see any of the floor ‘cause of clothes and binders et cetera, et cetera.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>My room is nice. It has a huge book shelf, one dresser with four drawers, and then three more built in with my bed. I have a tiny desk that I don’t sit in anymore, ‘cause I can barely fit in it, a toy-box made of yellow-heart and purple-heart wood, a closet with dresses and coats and scarves, and shelves with beanie-babies, a special music box, a Winnie-the-Pooh coin saver, and lots of other knick-knacks. I have a basket full of old dresses from Mom and Halloween costumes, and a small horse stable with horses. The walls are covered with pictures of different kind of horses, drawings from Amelia (she’s very good), and two huge pictures of flowers; a Birds of Paradise, and another one I don’t know what it’s called. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Sounds nice? It is. But I really like Nicolette’s room better. I didn’t go into detail with hers, but oh well. I still like it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>There’s Kathryn. I’m gonna go have lunch. Catch you later!</span></span></p>
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		<title>Dawn and Conner Continued&#8230;.4</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 17 Aug 2008 06:02:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[  “Oh, Conner.” was the simple, frosty, unhappy tone.   “Why are you not happy to see me?” Conner searched for the source of the sour voice.   “Oh, I don’t know. I think it is because the night before someone found me on the edge of the forest looking like the horrid monster I [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=18&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, Conner.” was the simple, frosty, unhappy tone.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Why are you not happy to see me?” Conner searched for the source of the sour voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, I don’t know. I think it is because the night before someone found me on the edge of the forest looking like the horrid monster I am!” Dawn said sarcastically, with an edge of frustration.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner chuckled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, I do not care for what the other side of you is,” he looked around in the trees. “all I care for is you.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Huh.” Dawn was not asking a question. She was stating her interest.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I can do that only if you tell me the truth…and where you are in this forest.” Conner asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Turn around.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner turned after he finished staring in front of himself.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Now turn back.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner turned back and to his amazement, Dawn was sitting on the grass with a patch of daisies around her. “The truth?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I never intend to tell you, Prince Conner.” Dawn stood. She did not smile, but her face was grim and dejected. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Will it ‘hurt me?’” he asked with his face unhappy now.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hmm…yes.” Dawn nodded. “I do not want any pleading from a prince. I am sure you would be disgusted with yourself afterwards when you received nothing but unpleasant scowls from the one who you begged.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>This angered Conner. “You cannot trust me.” it was not a question.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Why need I?” Dawn asked coldly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“If you’d like to start a relationship, then you—”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Excuse me? Relationship? Closest thing I was to a nice and calm relationship was when I was destined to marry that fowl Prince Austin. And I still am. Should you not interfere with your brother’s brides?” Dawn cut Conner off.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I—”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You will not be able to bribe me with jewels, either,” Dawn continued. “I am not drawn to much, honestly.” she reached up to an animal on her shoulder. It was Crimson.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner jumped, realizing Crimson had been on the princess’s shoulder the whole time.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Does he scare you?” Dawn laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a cold, heartless laugh. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No,” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You do.” Conner said darkly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn laughed the scary laugh again. “How?” she asked, seeming to know the answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You have let the other part of you take over. You let the scary, monster-like part rule over the calm—but cold—and normal attitude you have. I mean, <em>had</em>,” Conner shook his head in disgust. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“How is any of that scary?” she stopped smiling and narrowed her eyes in anger.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I have no idea.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Huh…” Dawn nodded. She stroked Crimson, and thought that she felt evil; all she needed were black nails. They were already extremely long. “Well, you have not changed the way I am. Come back tomorrow and try again.” Dawn said sarcastically.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, I will.” Conner began to back away. “I will.” he breathed and ran off.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Crimson, that boy never gives up. Am I really that intriguing?” Dawn asked sourly. She sat back down.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Dawn, forgive me, but were you born yesterday? During the night, you’re a…a monster! How interesting is </em>that<em>? </em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I do not know.” Dawn said simply.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Do not lie. </em>Crimson hissed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn sighed. “I am upset. You called me monster. So I must be one.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You are being ridiculous. You are making everything harder than it has to be. Relax and let things flow. I know we planned to tell him that you…change during the night every second Saturday of each month, but he’s seen what happened. We just have to explain to him now.</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><em><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span>  </span></span></em><span style="font-family:&quot;">“<em>Have </em>to? Why do we <em>have </em>to?” Dawn asked. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Because he already knows…what happens to you! He’s seen it, which is even worse. </em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You are right, Crimson. But you have to admit, I am a monster!” Dawn sighed again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I could not think of any other word. Have you not remembered? No one has a name for what becomes of you at those times. And Conner was right, you do not have to let misery and inhumanity take over you. </em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I do not. But it is easier if I do.” Dawn insisted. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You disgust me. </em>Crimson lightly scratched Dawn’s face. <em>It’s easy either way. You just cannot believe in yourself. </em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn winced as the thoughts burned along with the scratch. “Hmph.” she glared and crossed her arms.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span><span> </span>Crimson climbed off Dawn’s shoulder and to her hands. He lightly nibbled the black moon ring. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Don’t touch that!” Dawn snapped. She pulled her hand away and shined the black ring.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You are scared.</em> Crimson stated.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am, Crimson.” Dawn sighed for the third time.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You’ll get through this. Just try. </em>Crimson jumped back onto Dawn’s shoulder.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What now?” Dawn stood.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>The willow garden. We will wait for him.</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn nodded reluctantly and grabbed a bag of honey cakes and pumpkin juice. She ran off to the maze of shrubs.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter VII</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:&quot;">Austin</span><span style="font-family:&quot;"> awoke that morning much later than everyone else. His chambermaid was standing at the door.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Fetch my slippers!” he snapped.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, Your Highness.” the maid bowed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Where is my robe?” Austin demanded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Right here, Prince.” the maid said quickly. She got the robe and put it around Austin’s shoulders.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dismissed!” Austin spat in the maid’s face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>She nodded and returned to her spot.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin cursed under his breath as he passed maids gossiping in the hall.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Prince Austin!” “Your Highness!” “Sir!” were the greetings that Austin received. He merely grunted. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Devon! Give me some eggs.” Austin demanded rudely as he sat down on a chair helplessly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, Prince.” Cook Devon sighed. He got a plate and poured eggs on it and brought it to Austin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Where’s the salt?” Austin snapped.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Right here.” Devon placed it by Austin’s plate.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Where’s Conner?” Austin asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“He went to the rodent pen.” Devon grumbled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Has he come back yet?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>   </span>“Where is he now?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>   </span>“I do not know.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>   </span>“Alright then.” Austin shoved the eggs away. “These are awful. Worst you’ve made Devon. Give me a banana. Make sure its yellow.” Austin made a face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yeah, okay.” Devon took a banana and handed it to Austin. “Be off.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I’m going.” Austin snapped. He left the castle abruptly and ran to the willow gardens. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Dawn!” he called, as he did the night before. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn froze in the trees. “Crimson!” she whispered urgently.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Hush. Do not worry.</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Alright.” Dawn nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn!” Austin called again. “DAWN!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Crimson…” Dawn hissed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Shush. </em>And Crimson climbed up the tree. Dawn followed. “Crimson, I swear you’re going to pay for this dress.” she hissed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, if you’re here, please answer me,” Austin pleaded. To the silence, Austin said, “I know you are here. You just disgust me. I’ll leave you then, in your dense silence.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn made a face, but Crimson, lightly biting on her finger, held her back from screaming at Austin. “I can’t believe Mother actually made me marry the dim-witted prince. This whole place is dim-witted.” she said sourly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I agree. </em>Crimson nodded. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I don’t believe Conner is coming,” Dawn paused. “Crimson, I’ve thought about this for quite sometime, and I think we should just leave.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>But the marriage. Your mother would disinherit you if you back out. It’s simply not an option.</em> Crimson said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“She may disinherit me, but I’d accept it. I do not want to live under rules anymore. It’s absurd to me. Simply absurd…” Dawn’s voice trailed off. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I daresay </em>you<em> are absurd. What about Conner? I can tell you have feelings for him. </em>Crimson shook his head.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What about Conner? He was just another man that was interested in me. I say, he’d most certainly try to forget me if I leave. He’d most certainly want to. Who would want to be engaged with a monster like I?” Dawn wondered aloud.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Rubbish. But if you insist…</em>Crimson said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, I do insist. It would be for the best.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>It shall be settled. You must tell Queen Imani at once. </em></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter IX</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Tomorrow? Are you saying that you are withdrawing your part of the marriage?” Queen Imani asked astonished. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, Your Ladyship.” Dawn curtsied quickly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, then,” Imani turned and looked at the awaiting servants. “Please call Dawn’s guards. I’m sure the carriage was stored in the barn.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you, My Queen,” Dawn curtsied again. “Do you wish for me to go fetch my clothes?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I do.” Imani said and turned her back, bowing her head as she resumed her place at the thrown. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good day.” Dawn rushed out of the room, Crimson trailing at her heels.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Are you sure you are doing the right thing?</em> Crimson asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, I am sure. But I <em>do</em> hope I do not run into Conner. I hope to not have to bid him goodbye.” Dawn said, picking up the gray skirts of her depressing and tore dress.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I believe you still have feelings for him, despite the fact you wish you didn’t. Realize it, Dawn.</em> Crimson ran to be at Dawn’s side.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Hush up, Crimson. I do not believe I asked for your opinion.” Dawn snapped. When she reached her bedchamber, Dawn threw her clothes into the leather suitcase and soon was packed and ready. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You are very dim. </em>Crimson insulted his mistress.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Why, thank you,” Dawn said sarcastically. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Ridiculous…</em>Crimson thought.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I do not love him, as I’ve said plenty of times.” Dawn spat. She was getting angry now.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Settle down now, Miss Dawn. I shall stop nagging you about your truthful love for Prince Conner. Do forgive me. </em>Crimson bowed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, hush up,” Dawn glared. She pulled the hem of her dress over her black boots, and began lacing them up more securely this time. “My guards are waiting with the carriage. We cannot waste time, for I will not tolerate having to say good day to Prince Conner.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Whatever you say, Princess.</em> Crimson mocked. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn growled as she grabbed her hooded-cloak and draped it over her shoulders, tying it under her chin. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good afternoon, Princess,” Dawn’s first guard stepped forward. “I believe Prince Austin is coming to bid you goodbye.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Did message get sent to Prince Conner?” Dawn asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No. Do you wish for it to be sent to him?” the First Guard asked, pausing from turning the handle on the carriage door.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No, no! Please, let us get this over with. I would also much prefer not to have to say goodbye to Austin, but if he has already been sent for…” Dawn said quickly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, he has arrived.” the First Guard gestured behind Dawn.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn looked straight ahead and turned. “Prince Austin.” she curtsied.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Princess Dawn,” Austin did not bow. “I am very sorry to hear that you are leaving my family and I. ‘Tis all too early. What made you think this way?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I did not feel the love from you as I wished I did.” Dawn said flatly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh,” Austin said. “Certainly, you will visit?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Perhaps.” Dawn nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It was a pleasure to meet you, but I daresay, despairing to see that you have withdrawn yourself from the marriage. I shall always remember you, as I have the many other betrothals that soon declined my marriage.” Austin put his hand on Dawn’s cheek.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you, for the pleasure of meeting your family.” Dawn pulled away.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin bent down and kissed Dawn’s cheek, then stepped back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn curtsied and then said, “Please tell Queen Imani, King Ray, Cook Devon, and Prince Conner I say goodbye, and I give them my luck.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Of course.” Austin waved as Dawn closed the door to the carriage, and stepped back again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn ignored Austin and waited for the carriage to take her home. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>She couldn’t wait. Of course, she knew she wasn’t going to be welcomed warmly. Let alone welcomed at all…</span></span></p>
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		<title>Dawn and Conner continued&#8230;.3</title>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 21 Jul 2008 04:44:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[Chapter V   “Good evening, Austin. I am sorry I was late. I found an injured hummingbird. It needed to be helped.” Dawn bowed.   “I thought you said animals were a burden.” Austin narrowed his eyes.   “They are not!” Dawn said.   “It is what you had said.” Austin insisted.   “If I [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=15&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter V</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Good evening, Austin. I am sorry I was late. I found an injured hummingbird. It needed to be helped.” Dawn bowed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I thought you said animals were a burden.” Austin narrowed his eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“They are not!” Dawn said. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It is what you had said.” Austin insisted.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“If I did, I suppose I had a dose too much of champagne!” Dawn furrowed her eyebrows.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Perhaps…” Austin let it go. He looked up at the ceiling.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn did also, seeing such beauty, that she took a step back to the door. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Angels were flying about with ribbons wrapped around their bodies. They were flying up in the clouds with each other. Music notes were flying in the air and the angels were riding Pegasus’ at times. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn fought the urge to make the horses come alive. The urge to really see the angels fly. The urge to see notes floating in the air. The urge—</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Beautiful, is it not?” Austin’s voice broke through her thoughts.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes…it is.” Dawn said dazed. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“There’s a bathroom through there, so you can change.” Austin explained. He sat down on his side of the bed and let Dawn change. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you.” she said simply and left to go to the bathroom.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin nodded after the door closed. He then threw a baklava biscuit at the trash can. He muttered curses under his breath about Dawn. “Dawn? Dawn are you done?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>No answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin sat up. “Dawn?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Still no answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>He got up and knocked on the bathroom door, accepting silence. He opened it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin gasped when he felt a breeze of cold air. The window was wide opened, with a strip of pale blue cloth on it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The cloth from Dawn’s nightgown. Austin glared at a picture in the bathroom. He glared at a specific person. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>He was glaring at Conner. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Dawn! DAWN!” Austin yelled. He was dressed in his pajamas, but had his boots on.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin first searched the forest, calling her name. He once even called Conner’s, though he was sure Dawn didn’t like the boy.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin then searched the animal pens. Every single one. No one. Not even a foot print.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The rose gardens were empty also. So was the bush garden. Only the willow garden was left. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">While Austin was searching the willow garden, he ran into Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What are you doing out so late, Brother?” Austin asked suspiciously.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I just heard you calling for Dawn. She’s not in your bedchamber?” Conner looked troubled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No, she isn’t. I believe she crawled out the window.” Austin explained with his eyes narrow.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Out the <em>window?</em>” Conner croaked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes.” Austin nodded. <em>I can do it now, while he’s alone. While we’re alone. But why now? I’m looking for Dawn…it would be better if she were here.</em> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, Brother, we might as well make some use of ourselves. And actually cooperate here. You go right, I’ll go left.” Conner said evenly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“All right.” and the brothers did so.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-family:&quot;">Austin</span><span style="font-family:&quot;"> found Dawn curled up by a fallen down tree. Her head was down in her arms, and she was shaking. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn?” Austin’s voice quivered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn sniffed and raised her head. She did not turn to face Austin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn?” he said again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The princess turned her head and hissed, baring her teeth. Her eyes were blood red and her canine teeth were sharp. The black hair fell over her eyes, and dark purple circles were under them.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin screamed and ran away. “CONNER! CONNER!” he roared. “CONNER!”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What?! Did you find her?” Conner came running.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“N-no! L-l-look!” Austin gasped.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Look? Look where?” Conner came closer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Over…th-there!” Austin yelped. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner was going to ask if he was in pain, but decided against it. He went to where Austin had come from. “Dawn?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Heavy breathing was his answer. Someone with dark hair and a pale blue dress drenched with black liquid was standing with their back to Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn is that you?” Conner asked gently. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The girl did not turn.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner moved forward. “Dawn, I am moving toward you. Give me a sign who you are.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span><span> </span>The person turned around. Their eyes were bright orange, with a tinge of green. Her lips were blood-red. Purple circles were still under her eyes, and the black hair had no white in it while it hung over her face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, my goodness. Dawn?” Conner took a step toward her again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn took one step back. She shook her head wildly. “Go!” she said hoarsely.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner marveled at Dawn’s eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“So your not Dawn?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am. Please go.” she gasped. Dawn backed away more.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What is wrong with you, Dawn? Why are you like this?” Conner stepped forward again.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Please, C-Conner!” she stuttered on his name. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span><span> </span>“But why?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span><span> </span>“I . . . . . . . I do not want to hurt you.” she looked up and her eyes bored into Conner’s. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>He stepped back, feeling the power from her gaze. “How could you hurt me?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>She choked and shook her head. “You must go now. You have seen too much. Please!” she begged. Dawn stepped back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn—”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“JUST GO!” she bellowed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner turned and ran, feeling a boom from the loud voice Dawn had used. It was so inhuman. Yet, he thought Dawn was just a beautiful as she was when she was normal looking, with the piercing blue eyes, the jet-black hair, white streaks, rosy lips, cold attitude. He loved it all.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“D-did you s-see?” Austin whimpered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, I did. We should go.” Conner said coldly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What am I going to do, Conner? I am going to marry a monster!” Austin whined.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“If you will not take her who will?” Conner stared straight ahead.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You’re the one who loves her!” Austin pointed out.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“That is not true! Austin, I would not love the one who is already to be married.” Conner said ferociously. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You do say that all the time.” Austin realized.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, Brother, I suggest we not tell anyone about this encounter. If Dawn escapes again, let her go. She seems to…need it.” Conner sighed. “Good night, Brother.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good night.” Austin nodded and they both turned their separate ways in the castle hall. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter VI</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Conner awoke the next morning with memories flooding back to him of the night before. A picture of the monster-Dawn flooded into his mind.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn.” he whispered. He jumped out of bed, showered, and dressed himself. For breakfast, he went to the kitchen and found Cook Devon making eggs and bacon.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Conner! A pleasant surprise!” Cook Devon smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“As you are pleasant to me.” Conner smiled feebly. Devon slid some eggs and bacon on Conner’s plate.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What’s got you down this mornin’?” Devon frowned as he turned back to the stove.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dreams. They scared me, but made sadness fall over my happiness.” Conner explained depressingly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dreams of…?” Devon asked as he flipped an egg.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Princess Dawn…my brother…” Conner muttered.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ah.” Devon nodded. “You fancy her?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No!” Conner frowned.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I saw you staring at her during dinner last night.” Devon chuckled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Guilty.” Conner put his hands up playfully. He leaned his head on his fist and thought of the night before. <em>Oh! I didn’t see Crimson with her!</em> he thought wildly. His eyes got wide as he realized the raccoon that had always been by her side hadn’t there.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Cook Devon laughed. “All right, well put your dish in the sink across the kitchen. I shall see you at lunch.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, I won’t be here for lunch. I am going to visit my uncle. I have not seen him yet. Do you know anything about him?” Conner asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, he is not doing the best I can say that. He’s got aches and pains, his head is always hot. Can barely get out of bed. Has to be fed by hand.” Cook Devon shook his head sadly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Will he live?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Will he live? Of course! Yes, yes! Do not worry about death, Prince Conner. Just a bad fever, that is all.” Cook Devon said quickly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh, good. Well, I must visit Ruby.” Conner nodded quickly. “Thank you, Devon!” and the prince ran out of the castle.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">Conner stopped at the rodent pen, picked up Ruby, then started for the forest. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn!” he called. He just <em>had</em> to talk to her about the night before. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Y-yes? Who’s there?” answered a loud voice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, it’s me Conner.” Conner called.</span></span></p>
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		<title>Dawn and Conner Continued&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;</title>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 18 Jul 2008 22:26:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[  “Doctor! Ray….Ray, well I don’t know what happened to Ray but he just…” Queen Mil’s voice drifted off.    “I understand.” Dr. Brian nodded. He ordered people to get a cot and carry King Ray up to his bedchamber. The servants did so.   After a while, Austin and Dawn went up to see [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=13&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Doctor! Ray….Ray, well I don’t know what happened to Ray but he just…” Queen Mil’s voice drifted off.<span>  </span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I understand.” Dr. Brian nodded. He ordered people to get a cot and carry King Ray up to his bedchamber. The servants did so. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">After a while, Austin and Dawn went up to see the king.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Uncle? Uncle, are you all right?” Austin asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Come to me, boy.” King Ray said hoarsely. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Uncle?” Austin moved forward and took his Uncle’s hand. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ah, there you are. I am fine, boy. Tired. Aching. But I am sure I will get better.” Ray said with his eyes half open. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am happy to hear that, sir. This is my betrothed, Princess Dawn. She wished to come with me.” Austin stood and dropped Ray’s hand harshly on the bed. He also ignored the groan of pain.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Your Majesty.” Dawn bowed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn. What a beautiful name.” Ray smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“As to a beautiful girl?” Dawn asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Ray chuckled. “Yes. Of course.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn barely smiled. Her face was cold, as usual, but the tone of her voice was light.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“All right off to you. I heard Conner was in the forest, so I guess you two are on your own.” Ray said huskily.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, Uncle.” Austin bowed once again with Dawn. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good day, sir.” Dawn left the room after Austin. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin chewed at his lip while Dawn kept her head high and proud. “I am sorry about your uncle, Austin.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you for your concern, Dawn.” Austin said stiffly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn was silent. Once again, the couple had their arms linked, but Dawn hadn’t pulled away yet, as Austin had hoped. He needed her to trust him.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Would you please let me go? I wish to take a tour of the animal pens on the castle property, if you do not mind.” Dawn stared straight ahead.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I suppose you can. Be back before it is time for bed. Do you need a candle light?” Austin asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“In the forest? Near plants? Isn’t that dangerous?” Dawn asked, knowing the answer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, yes. I suppose so. Take a heat lamp. It will provide enough light.” Austin stopped at his bedchamber and went in. Dawn waited at the door.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Here, take this one. I have plenty more in my closet. I will see you in a few hours, then, Miss Dawn.” Austin said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Of course.” Dawn said grimly. She took the lamp and then made her way to the stairs. The skirt of Dawn’s dark blue silky dress was flowing swiftly behind her. At the draw-bridge door, Dawn took her hooded-cape, which was also dark blue, and threw it on. She pulled up the hood, and tied a loose knot around her throat. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>She strode across the draw-bridge over the moat, and then took the path to the hound pen. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn was well aware that the whole time she had been with Austin that Crimson was sitting quietly on her shoulder. Finally, he twittered in her ear.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Crimson, I was not serious when I agreed with Austin about the burden of animals. You know I just love animals. And I would die, if you taken away.” she massaged behind the raccoon’s ear. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I thought so,</em> came Crimson’s voice in Dawn’s head. <em>I am not fond of this Prince Austin, though. His smell is most unwelcoming. </em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes, I agree. When you look at him, what do you see?” Dawn asked curiously. She stopped in the path and tore across the lawn to the maze of willow trees. She settled under a nice tall one. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I see a harsh, stony, and cold heart. He does not treat people well. I also see some kind of plan forming in his mind. But I cannot look deep enough to see what the plan is.</em> Crimson said thoughtfully.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What do you know of the plan, although you cannot see much?” Dawn asked. She placed Crimson on the ground next to the trunk of the willow tree.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Yes, I do not see much. But I see that it is bad. It has something to do with power…and…well it is much too hard for me to describe. I am sorry to disappoint you, Dawn.</em> Crimson somewhat nodded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You are so wise. You could never disappoint me.” Dawn cooed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I thank you. But it is not I who is wise. I just know a lot by being able to see into peoples’ minds.</em> Crimson said humbly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Nevertheless…” Dawn said. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>What are you thinking?</em></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Of Conner. He seems…different. Do you not think that the coldness of heart should run in the family?” Dawn looked up the trunk of the tree.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>You never know. Perhaps Conner received this kindness from others of the family. Mil does not seem cold. Mayhap Conner’s birth-father was kind. </em>Crimson thought.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You are very right…” Dawn said. “Hmmm, I think I see Conner. Crimson what do you think of him?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>He is kinder. He shares the love of animals with you. Ruby, remember the ferret? Well, she seems strong. He is most definitely interested in you. </em>Crimson explained.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, thank you, Crimson. I cannot believe how easy it is for you to impress me.” Dawn smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I’m glad I can make you smile.</em> Crimson hopped onto Dawn’s lap. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner was walking around the willow tree garden. He would laugh at times, looking at Ruby. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Perhaps he can talk to Ruby also.</em> Crimson said. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn nodded as she gazed at Conner. He bent down to look at a flower. He sniffed it, and sneezed. Dawn almost smiled as he laughed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>He came closer, and Dawn decided to climb up the tree. She wasn’t sure if Conner purposely came to find Dawn, or if it was a mere coincidence. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Come on, Crimson!” she whispered-yelled. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Do not worry, I am coming! </em>Crimson jumped onto the trunk and crawled up. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>The bark tore at Dawn’s dress but she ignored it. Even when a thorn tore at her cheek and blood dribbled down. Dawn winced, but otherwise showed no sign of pain.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>Are you all right? </em>Crimson noticed the blood.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn nodded. “Let’s see what Conner will do.” she said when Conner neared. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“…Ruby, no!” he laughed aloud. Ruby jumped off his hand and onto the shrub. Since it was firm, she could crawl on it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ruby, let’s stop over at this tree so I can give you so food.” Conner picked up Ruby quickly and plopped her on his shoulder. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn gasped slightly as she felt a sharp pain on her cheek. Another thorn dug into the wound, as she had leaned her head on a branch. More blood fell down her cheek.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner stopped at the trunk and looked around. “Who’s here? Show yourself!” he demanded.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Ruby sighed aloud, and said, “Hello, Prince Conner.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>He looked up and saw Dawn and Crimson. “Oh, Dawn! I did not know you liked to stroll in the gardens as I do.” Conner smiled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn did not smile. Her expression was soft, though, and a smile was begging to come on. She willed it away. Dawn cocked her head. “I shall come down.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Would you like any help?” Conner stood back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No, no.” Dawn shook her head. Sliding her bottom off the branch, Dawn grabbed hold of another branch so she was hanging, her feet a few feet off the ground. Dawn let go.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner realized Dawn would have been hurt if she felt the ground, and immediately ran under. The princess fell on top of him, and the two were lying on the ground on top of each other.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter IV</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Oh, my goodness! Conner, I told you help was not needed!” Dawn rolled off of Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am sorry, Dawn, but you would’ve been hurt if I hadn’t done that. Far more than a back ache, which is what I have now.” Conner explained as he dusted off his shirt.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn nodded stiffly. He was still feeling pain from the wound.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh! Are you all right?” Conner asked, noticing the blood on her cheek.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I-I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Dawn shook her head. Pain was etched on her face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No it sure is something. Did you injure it twice or something?” Conner tucked the black hair behind Dawn’s ear. She inched away a bit.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Please, just let me help you once.” Conner said desperately. It wasn’t out of interest it was out of mere kindness.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn hesitated. She looked to Crimson, but his face was blank. She sighed. “Um…all right.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner nodded, satisfied. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket on his pants and took a bottle of water to make it moist. He then wiped at the wound. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn felt his hands. They were callused, but gentle. Conner’s breathing was slow and calm. He took a bandage and put it on Dawn’s scratch. She smiled, but was sure that Conner didn’t see it, because he did not smile back.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“All better?” he asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes. Thank you.” she nodded. Dawn shook her head so that all the hair that was tucked behind her ear would come out. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Why white?” he asked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>She supposed he was referring to her highlights. “Because it was possible.” she said, with an obvious tone.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ah. I see. Dawn?” Conner looked straight into the girl’s eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes?” she looked straight back into the black eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Do you wish to marry Austin?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn looked taken aback. “Well I have not much choice.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“True…but if you did?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I am not sure.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn was sure. She would certainly not marry him. She would have much preferred Conner, if she had to.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Dawn, as I have told you before, I am interested in you…and—” Conner was cut off by Dawn.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Have you ever been made to be married? Sorry to interrupt.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“It’s fine. And yes, I have. Her name was Belle of Frem. She had long, curled, brown hair. Her eyes were big and brown. She was cold and mean. I finally admitted that I had not wanted to marry her. Belle did not want to marry me, either. You would think that would hurt my feelings, but it did not.” Conner explained.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I do not think it would. It would only if one were to love the other, but the other did not love back. I would not think it to be insulting either.” Dawn replied.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You are a different girl, Dawn.” Conner cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. A smile was brought to his lips.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Is that a compliment?” Dawn asked, widening her eyes in innocence.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner laughed. “Yes!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn smiled. It was a small, content, smile, but it was fairly noticeable.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you, then.” and the two sat there, leaning on their sides, gazing into each other’s eyes.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>I like this man.</em> Crimson told his mistress. Dawn’s eyes twinkled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span><em>She is nice. </em>Ruby told her master. Conner smiled a boyish smile. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Finally, Dawn leaned forward. She blushed, but still did so.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner followed. Dawn closed her eyes slowly. Their lips met.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner embraced Dawn. By this time it was dark, the stars were shining down, and the moon was up. In mid-kiss, Conner opened his eyes and saw Dawn’s black moon ring shining. His eyes smiled and then closed again. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Soon they broke apart. Dawn looked surprised but pleased. Conner was smiling.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>But Dawn soon looked distressed. “I must go! Austin requested me to be back at his bedchamber in an hour or two! Its almost been three! I am sorry, Conner. Thank you, though.” she stood and picked up Crimson. While she was running across the lawn, she looked back smiling.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">hope you liked it!</span></span></p>
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		<title>Dawn and Conner Continued&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://authorbo.wordpress.com/2008/07/16/dawn-and-conner-continued/</link>
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		<pubDate>Wed, 16 Jul 2008 21:31:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melanieakabo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chapter Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dawn and conner]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[  “Oh? Do you?” Conner asked as he lifted Ruby off his shoulder.   “Yes. Crimson and I have been together for ten years now. I found him when I was eight. We met in the castle’s attic. Poor dear. Everyone hated him until I took him under my wing.” Dawn explained smoothly. Her voice [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=authorbo.wordpress.com&amp;blog=4209743&amp;post=11&amp;subd=authorbo&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Oh? Do you?” Conner asked as he lifted Ruby off his shoulder.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes. Crimson and I have been together for ten years now. I found him when I was eight. We met in the castle’s attic. Poor dear. Everyone hated him until I took him under my wing.” Dawn explained smoothly. Her voice was no longer cold, but sounded rather annoyed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Not the whole story is it?” Conner put Ruby on the forest floor. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No.” Dawn said. She had jet black hair, with white streaks that you could barely see. Dawn also had deep blue eyes. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ah,” Conner looked at the time. “Oh, dear. I must go. Dinnertime. Shall we run together, or would you like to walk back alone?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I shall walk back alone, thank you.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“All right. I shall see you soon.” and Conner ran off to his castle. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;">Chapter III</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-size:22pt;line-height:200%;font-family:&quot;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Brother, where have you been?” Prince Austin asked coldly, taking hold of Conner’s shoulder firmly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“The rodent pen.” Conner said stiffly. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin tightened his grip. “What were you doing there? Having a nice chat with Princess Dawn were you?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No, Brother. I demand you to let go of me.” Conner glared.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Never.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Now!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“How many times must I say it?” Austin tightened the grip even more.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner tore his shoulder from Austin’s hand, showing no sign of pain. <span> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Brother, those who give more thought to them around him will be much more knowledgeable.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Don’t speak to me in riddles, idiot.” Austin drew himself to his full height, an inch-and-a-half shorter than Conner.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Since I do, you cannot call me idiot.” Conner said calmly. “Now, Brother, if you don’t mind I’d like to go and eat dinner with my kinder family members. I’m sure Princess Dawn is expecting you to meet her here. Good day.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;text-align:center;margin:0;" align="center"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">*<span>       </span>*<span>      </span><span> </span>*</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;">“Princess Dawn.” Austin bowed slowly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Prince Austin.” Dawn did not bow, but spoke flatly. Crimson stood still then chirped loudly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin showed now interest. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What a burden it is to be made to keep these animals near us.” he said and rolled his eyes. He smiled, thinking Dawn would feel the same.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn hesitated, but then said, “Why, yes…yes it is.” and she smiled back blankly and took the arm that was offered by Austin. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Off to dinner now. Once again, everyone is there besides me.” Austin laughed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn let the smile come back, but it was cold and fake, just as the one before. She heard Crimson twitter quietly in her ear. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“For dessert I have baklava for you. I did not want it, so I decided that you could try it.” Austin went on.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You had it for yourself, but did not want it. So you give it to me?” Dawn asked slowly and frostily. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Yes. Is that not what you want?” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Well, I do not take extras from people, and I certainly do not want to be felt as an extra that can be just given things that are not wanted, and is expected to use, eat, or care for.” Dawn took her arm abruptly from Austin. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I apologize.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You should.” Dawn said callously. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin did not stop, but was stunned by Dawn’s rudeness. “Princess, you should not be rude to those who have power over you.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“You have no power over me.” Dawn said swiftly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“I’m sorry, but I do.” and the two entered the Royal Dining Room. There was The Great Hall, for feasts and parties, but the Royal Dining Room was smaller with a long table that could fit fifteen people. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Austin!” Queen Mil displayed another fake smile on her face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good evening, Mother.” Austin kissed his mother on the cheek then led Dawn to her seat next to the queen.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Thank you.” Dawn said stiffly. She was extremely uncomfortable from the talk with her soon-to-be husband. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin was silent as he took his seat beside Conner. At the head of the table was King Ray. He was Austin’s uncle and Queen Mil’s brother. The man took the place of Mil’s husband, who had died a year ago. The queen was still mourning a bit over his death.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>At the other end was Cook Devon. Queen Mil, Dawn, Conner, and Austin were alone in the middle of the table.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good evening Princess Dawn. I am sorry I failed to greet you at the gate this afternoon.” Ray apologized.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Good evening. You did not miss much.” Dawn said carelessly.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ah.” Ray nodded unsurely. “Anyhow, I would like to thank our cook, Devon. To Devon!” Ray raised his wine glass.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“To Devon!” everyone echoed. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner stole a look at Dawn. Luckily, she did not notice, so Conner gazed at her until her glass was firmly on the table. Dawn did her movements with much grace. Conner noticed on her index was a gold ring with a red gem. On her middle finger was a silver ring with a black moon on it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span> </span><span> </span>“Feast!” Cook Devon shouted loudly. Everyone but Conner and Dawn immediately ate their food.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Austin took his chicken leg first and devoured it.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn winced and looked away not caring if she was being impolite.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner looked disgusted and tapped Austin’s shoulder.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“What?” Austin asked angrily with chicken spitting out of his mouth.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Swallow! And use a fork!” Conner shoved a fork in his face.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“<em>Fine!</em>” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner began to eat with more manners. “Uncle.” he said when he looked up. He had been eating before, but had stopped. His face was gray.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Ray! Ray, are you all right?!” Mil jumped up from her seat and ran over to her brother.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“No…no.” Ray rolled his eyes and his head fell backward.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“RAY!” Mil screamed. “GET THE PHYSICIAN!” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Go, Conner!” Austin said. He was just sitting there in shock.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Conner wanted to force Austin to get the physician himself. Nonetheless, Conner raced off. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>Dawn stood and took her napkin. She went to the kitchen and wet it. “Queen Mil, put this on his forehead.” Dawn said worriedly. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“—Sniff—thank you—sniff—Dawn.” <span> </span>Mil took the napkin and placed it over the red forehead of King Ray. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%;margin:0;"><span style="font-family:&quot;"><span style="font-size:small;"><span>  </span>“Your Highness!” Dr. Brian came running.</span></span></p>
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