Writers CampThe camp was small, very secluded, and only a handful of people knew of it's existence. The caves along the lake shore provided a wind free shelter, large enough for only a single tent, which was where the original idea had started. The start of summer for the group of writers was a quiet one. The first week, each took a turn at the solitary camp, infusing themselves in nature's splendor and beauty. By the time they returned, they almost always had new ideas and concepts to discuss with the group and to write on. For the naturalists in the group, there was no better way to do it. Two entirely natural lakes came within a few hundred yards of each other's shoreline. A small creek fed into the western lake, and on a small tip of the shore there was a hill, hardly covered in the soft, sparse grass that covered the rest of the ground. On that hill stood the remains of what had once been a large, strong oak. Since the lightning strike that had nearly deafened one of the writers ne
Mission: HopeMission: Hope
On the outside, the small house appeared battered, and rather world-weary. It was one of the many houses on the outskirts of town that had been declared unsafe for further habitation due to the very large chance of mold and mildew caking the insides of the walls. The walls, cieling, and floorboards all had to come up. When the state officials said everything, they meant everything. Before it was entirely stripped down to it's bare bones- the inner supports and basic foundation- the previous owners' belongings were to be salvaged. That was what this team was for. Twenty teenagers and their six chaperones had given up several days of their summer vacation in order to help out the less fortunate families who now lived a state away after the hurricane had ruined their homes. WIth the masks over thier mouth and nose to prevent the inhalation of dust that likely contined asbestos and other dangerous particles, their songs were slightly muffled, but they still persist
Hurricane of the SoulHurricane of the Soul
Like the wind outside of her small apartment, the turmoil inside the writer was almost unbearable. The hurricane had a good chance of hitting land within the week, and the weather certainly seemed to imply that it would come close if it didn't land. She had been working on the same scene of her novel to be for almost as long as the city had been in the hurricane watch. She now wondered if that was a sign. Working on was not quite the right word. Slaving over, perhaps, would be a better one. The wind howled and gusted, shaking the windows in their panes, and she typed out another sentence, which in turn led to another paragraph- inflicting yet another trouble on her antagonist, this time making him wait another ten minutes before even alerting any of the other characters to the fact that that he was indeed drowning. Yes, the weather was certainly influencing her writing, but there was nothing she could do about it. THere
Catching the Last LaughCatching the Last Laugh
The younger man had been following and hunting his master for nearly a century already. The world itself and all things of importance had faded to mere background activities as he pursued his one last mission before the armies that tracked him caught up with him. He had to reach the place his master called home, and he had to do it soon. There was one last parting gift he had not had the chance to give his master, and if it took every day that remained to his numbered count, he would be sure that the gift was personally hand delivered. The gift itself was small, and inconspicious- easily hidden in a pocket or bag, but the power behind it was great. It would be- was designed to be- the perfect end to the master that had signed his own pupil's death warrent. The liquid was a golden color, as if rays of the evening sun has been turned to molten material and melted. It had, he knew, a sweet taste- almost indistinguishable from that of his master's favourite m
Windows PastUnder the Windowsill.
On top of the windowsill, which was more then wide enough, there was a a comfortable window seat perfect for reading, journaling or simply contemplating deep thoughts. Beneath it though, hidden underneath the thick cushioning and mounds of pillows that lined the half circle seat, it was a heavy, dark red brick- the same that the rest of the room's walls were made of, not to mention the rest of the fortress's. There was a secret beneath the seat though, one that very few people knew of, let alone remembered in the peaceful reign that the King now led. The warm spring sunlight poured through the window, and a taste of the flower scented air wafted in through the windows that had been cracked open for the first time in months. She knelt before the window seat itself, her long and gaily colored dress fanning out behind her like a waterfall as she lifted aside the cushions on the seat to reveal the solid bricks beneath. With gentle fingers, and the aid of a
Hidden TruthFolded Inside a Diamond Ring
It was the only way that she could think of passing the message on to her descendants, the only way to make sure that they knew the banned truth of their uncle's reign. After weeks of careful and dedicated planning, she, contacted the jewelsmith, and asked if her request could be made a reality, not daring to trust the mission to anyone else. The truth, as it often was, was a banned subject, with the death penalty as a reminder of just how serious the bitter king was about this particular decree. The largest diamond had been carefuly removed from the ornate ring, and hollowed from the bottom, so as not to be noticed as long as no one knew where to look for it. The space inside of the ring was tiny, barely large enough to hold a scrap of paper, folded tightly in on itself, but that was all that she needed. The note itself was cryptic, a clue leading to a secret box in an obvious location, hid in plain sight so as to not arouse suspicion. She penne
Release"Free me from this cage of modern entrapments," my soul pled it's case before the High Court. "Let me be free of the chains that disguise the snares of this modern century."
The only response that I received for year after passing year was a cold, stony gaze, accompanied only by a stern finger pointing back to the harsh reality of a generation that I had never fit into. This time though, as I begged and offered my case yet again before the High Court, I saw a moment of hesitation in their answer. Hardly believing my chance, I pounced on that opportunity and poured forth a torrent of words, excuses, reasons, proof- anything that might satisfy their obscenely high requirments. For the first time ever after hearing my case, they asked for a day to discuss things amongst themselves before coming to a final judgment. I, seeing no other option, agreed to their request, and returned home to a reality that I could barely stand up under the weight of, and began to pray to
The PlaygroundSome place in between the realms of sleep, and waking, I saw great and terrible things that left me shaken to my core. I saw children, whom I instantly knew to be my future elementary class, playing at recess and discovering a large brightly colored puddle of liquid on the playground beneath the most popular swings. They took turns swinging as high as they dared, and then jumping into the falsely colored puddle. Somehow I knew then, that all was not as it seemed. The puddle was too large, too large to have been somebody's spilled juice, or indeed, many sombodies'.
I could not get to the children fast enough, no matter how many playground hurdles I jumped, no matter how fast I ran. The first child jumped off of the swing, egged on by his impatient classmates. He soared through the crisp autumn air, arms outspread as if he could fly, and I ran, still knowing that I was as good as a mile away. The child landed, first on his feet, sending up a sheet of the brightly colored liqui
Free Plushie Patterns Online
Here's a collection of links to sites outside of DeviantArt where you can find free plushie patterns. There are well over two hundred choices, so you're sure to find something you like.
Remember, if you can't find exactly what you're looking for, try adapting one of the patterns. For example, a tiger can easily be turned into a lion, an elephant into a wooly mammoth, an elf into a goblin, or combine the upper half of a mermaid with the lower half of a pony to get a centaur.
Night Garden Studios Jointed and Rag Bears
Baby Bows Bear
Hug Me (EMS Bear)