Thank you. Call me the boy who can never finish anything. Bwahahahaha.

SO anyway, I'm having problems with this sim story.

1) it needs work, but i don't know where.
2) it needs screenshots, and i suck.

anyway, here goes.

Welcome to My Life

Home was never the place I’d love to be. In fact, it wasn’t even the last place I’d rather be instead of any other place. I hated it more than the trailer park a few blocks away. The junk, the smell, the people, all of those I could handle. But home? Oh goodness no. Not with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (but he will be, sooner or later) living under the same roof with me. Put aside the fact that he was three years older, three brains wiser, and definitely three arms stronger than me. I hated him. Oh, and have I mentioned he was my brother?
   Belladonna. Of all the places on Earth, I lived in Belladonna, with my ‘family’, renting a fairly spacious room in a middle-class apartment; just a few blocks away from those trailer parks. Imagine my life. Sweet Belladonna, where status is everything, oh how I hated it here. Especially those sons of daughters of the high-class. Think they already got enough? Oh no, they always had to brag about their magnificence and charm and dignity and what-the-hell-am-I-saying kind of things. There was a good reason why the high-class were all piled up far on the hills; far from the middle and lower-class, and most especially far from me; but of course, with their greatness and air, they seemed to be scattered like rats or virus all over the town, and their work of doom could never be surpassed by none. Bravo, people. Bravo.
   311 Bella Park Road. The cursed 4-unit apartment that was called Crossroad Apartments. A pair of two two-story long buildings placed lengthwise on each side of the lot, facing one another, containing two apartment units each. This was home. At least, a part of it. The other three units were occupied by other families that need not be mentioned, as they hate them all the same. There were the Black family, a breed of whites (yes, I could notice the stupid irony) who know nothing than complain about every single freaking thing around them. Just days ago I saw Mrs. Black complaining about how the weather wouldn’t suit her plants’ conditions, and she kept on ranting about the whole day. It was torture, and it was fucking irritating. Just replace your messed up plants already! Or leave and move to a new apartment, for crying out loud! Sheesh!
   And then there were the Sutherlands. Or rather, Sutherland. Richard had lived alone for a few years now, but I had yet to see him actually bring a girl home. I always wondered on that matter; Richard was good-looking at 26, and he didn’t look like someone who would swallow his date up in the ass (did that even make sense?). I even once came to the conclusion that Richard was gay, but I dropped that. I already had to many gays in my life, even a neighbor would destroy me completely. Anyway, Richard was always seen outside his unit, sitting on a coffee table in front of his laptop, typing the hell out of him like there was no tomorrow. I dared myself to count how many mugs of coffee he could gulp down in one sitting, but I lost count. He was a coffee-gulping, never-sleeping, laptop-wrecking workaholic monster.
   And not but not the least (when it comes to the worst, they’re definitely not the least), may I present the family O’Hare. That couple of wicked, sadistic, possessed, psychotic, addicted, schizophrenic, masochistic, freaky, macabre cultists would definitely be at the top of the list of people I’d never want to meet again in my next life. Ugh. Just the thought of that horror couple could creep the nerves off of me. The spawn of Hell! They should be called the spawn of Hell!
   A simple day at Crossroad Apartments never existed. Everyday a Black would shout at no one complaining nonsense about things that should have been left alone; everyday Richard would be seen typing something in his laptop in front of his unit out in the yard, perhaps sinister, perhaps work, or perhaps a novel, while gulping countless gallons of coffee. Were there drugs in each mug, I would never know. And of course, everyday a psycho O’Hare would creep out of their doorstep and wreak havoc on Earth. In other words, the O’Hare couple never comes out at all, but a mysterious red glow would always be visible from their window. Which is why there was always a number of the nearby church posted on the fridge door, and even a self-proclaimed exorcists’, just in case…
   As I said, I never wanted to be at home, at Crossroad Apartments. Never. But somehow, through the work of some invisible and invincible vow, I was chained to this stupid unit like an old undisturbed and unnoticed painting. If there were a way to reverse the thread of life (uh, what?), I could have been living my life at the hills with those high-class goody two-shoes. Yes, I might be insecure. Got a problem with that?

   “I’m home,” I said, with the usual glum and indifferent expressions to show my undying gratitude. In my mind, ‘I’m home’ means ‘oh, great’. When would I be able to get the hell out of this place? When? When??!! “What’s for dinner? I’m starving, and we have big exams for tomorrow. I’d better stack up.”
   But the door didn’t answer me. In the first place, I’d die of shock if it did. That would have meant that one of the O’Hares cursed our door. Sighing, I walked up and turned the handle, my mind already conjuring up a view of what I would see in front of me. And hell, was it horrible.
   Hell, was it horrible.
   There they were, the monster and his monster girlfriend. Making out on the sofa like crazy prostitutes. Oh God. And if I thought that woman on Rihanna’s Disturbia (the one lying on something with a fan) was disturbing, then it was nothing compared to the sight of my own big brother and his freakish goth girlfriend committing sacrilege on Dad’s very own sofa. His hand on her butt, his lips on – God, I don’t even want to know what that part is called, it was unholy! Unholy, I tell you! And the worse part, they were enjoying it! Give me the knife so I could get this over with, I thought.
   I coughed.
   “Oliver,” I whispered, but by the way it came out, it turned into a soft command.
   Oliver looked up, at the same time his girlfriend Stephanie stared at me with those scary, scrutinizing eyes. Yikes. Not that I hated Goths, I just… hated Goths. They creep me out like roaches on a bun during a hot Monday morning. The make-up, the eyeliner, the outfit, the blackness, and the gloomy, tragic atmosphere they carry around – what’s not to hate? Add the fact that one of their species was my the doofus’ girlfriend, and well, let’s just say I’d rather eat fried roaches on a stick. No, I’d rather choose neither of the two.
   I mean, c’mon! Stephanie was a living vacuum, specializing on sucking the life out of every single happy thing. Her aura was tremendous, unbeatable. One look at those dark, gaping holes of the abyss, and you know you’re lost forever in eternal suffering. Ugh. It was a miracle how I managed to survive days and days of seeing her and looking into her eyes, much less see how she gets overcome by goth lust. Not a pretty sight.
   “What?!” was the only word that came out of his mouth, and with a sneer at that. His words became vacuum themselves. Stephanie’s goth disease was highly contagious, after all, and could only be prevented through the right vaccine. T’was a good thing I had mine a long, long time ago… Poor Oliver though, but hey, why should I care for someone who never even cared for his own life? Let him die of gothiness. It was his problem, not mine.
   “I’ll be in my room,” I said, as calmly and stoic as possible. Of all times that I hated Oliver, I hated him most when he was rebelling. And he was definitely rebelling. And not only did I hate him when he was on his stupid freaking ordeal, I feared him too. He would be capable of doing things unimaginable, I shuddered at the thought of it. He could kill if he wanted to, and when he was on his rebel mood, he would.
   That event marked a traumatic past for him. He was weak to such happenings. It had been only three months since it happened, and time wasn’t doing anything to ease his pain. To ease both our pains. But he never wanted to show his weakness. So instead of feeling so emo about it, he chose the other way around. He took to the goth nature; dated goth girls, wore goth clothes, did everything in a goth way. If My Chemical Romance could send me whimpering with fright, Oliver in his Joker-inspired make-up could kill me.
   I sat against the blue walls of my microscopic bedroom, my feet flat on the floor, my chin rested on my knees, my hands around my legs. I just sat there, unaware of everything around. What Oliver had done in front of me – it made me remember what made him like that. I was still on the process of loading that data, and it was taking me a long time to do it, but for him, access was denied. Still, though he could kill anytime he wanted to, there was still no sign of him actually wanting to. He was strong, yet also weak.
   If someone was to blame for this, then I was a hundred percent positive it was our dad’s fault. Three months ago… I could still remember everything. The white walls of the hospital, the busy nurses and doctors, all running about like all hell would break loose, the screams of nurses, telling others to fetch doctors, the sound of the wheels of wheelchairs echoed in my ears…
   
   Doctor Carter was possessed. I could feel it. Or he was crazy. Either way I knew he knew there was no hope for Mom. But he still insisted that she would live, that she could make it. But dear Lord, he knew he was wrong. He was fooling himself. Worse, he was fooling Dad. He was completely oblivious to the inevitable. Oliver, on the other hand, was trying his best to reject the truth. I could see in his eyes – eyes that were both hopeful, yet utterly hopeless – that he was seeking some portal to another world, to escape this harsh fate that awaited us.
   I never thought I would be this strong in front of the Intensive Care Unit room. I always thought I’d be crying when I face this room of death. Now, in front of me was a simple, white door which upper half was made of glass. I was standing in front of the boundary between me and Dad and Mom. Dad, who was grasping every inch of hope he could. I pitied him. It was definitely too much for him to bear, with the added fact that he was the cause of all this. But why did he choose now to destroy Mom’s life? OUR lives? Why, I kept on asking myself, but I knew better. There would never be an answer to that.
   Beside me was the spawn of hell. Just like Dad, this person was the cause of all of this. Both of them were. Why Mom was hospitalized, why Oliver was on the verge of insanity, why we silently waited for a miracle while expecting Mom’s death – no, there were no use for any euphemisms, it would be less painful this way – everything was their fault.
   It was all because Dad had another lover. If it were another woman, oh Jesus, Mom might have endured it. But no, hell gave us everything it got. I just didn’t know whether Jesus or Satan was to blame for all that has happened, for making Dad the way he secretly was.
   When Mom knew Dad was gay, the rapture came earlier than expected.
   George. George Dawson was the name of the man beside me. May he burn in the deepest pits of hell. The man who grabbed Dad from us, who pulled us from our serene life and put us in torture.
   Suddenly Oliver came bursting out of the ICU, and tears were flowing nonstop from his eyes. He headed straight to George. It didn’t surprise me that he punched him straight in the face.

   The sound of a car pulling over saved me from the suicidal memories. Only after a few seconds did I realize that the one driving that car was connected with those memories. But I had to forget everything again as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t help in the first place. What was done was done. I had to move on. If Oliver didn’t want to, it was his choice.
   Besides, reminding George and Jacob – the ones in the car, my dad and his new partner – the experience would make matters worse, as if it weren’t worse already, what with Stephanie (may the gods forgive me, but she is just a zombie, a lifeless, dull zombie) at our house. Oh, God. I could already imagine George’s reaction when he sees Oliver and Stephanie on the couch doing what heaven forbids.
   But I didn’t have to. It was already happening the moment I stepped out of my room to greet my dad and my dad – or so he wanted me to treat him. As if. Moving on…
   “Oliver, what in the name of all things holy are you doing?!” was what came out of Jacob’s – I’m surprised it wasn’t George who said it – mouth. From the looks of it, I was amazed his jaw could endure such length, and talk at the same time. Trains could come out of that thing if you added railways.
   After that, a war of words ensued, the first side being gay men, the other side a goth couple. I didn’t remember much, everything was too hazy, as if I was thrown a metal pot on the head (though I was damn sure Jacob couldn’t hurt a fly, much less Oliver, and Oliver was still sane, amazingly).
   I couldn’t remember because I didn’t want to. I was already facing too much of everything at school, seeing my own father and brother fight wouldn’t be of much help to relieve me of my stress.
   And of course, who could forget the crisis I was facing alone.

Pls rate on gameplay, not glitches and Securom. 1 is the highest rating, and the last number (depends on how many EP's and SP's you have) would be the lowest. State your reason too.

Expansion Packs...
1) Bon Voyage - I'm a fan of different cultures, so this hits the spot. There's just too much to do that it never gets old (at least, for me it doesn't). Only when I collect all momentos will I be bored of it.
2) Open for Business - The fact that I suck at it only means that I still have goals. Once I start a business, I forget all my other goals (yet I still haven't had all the perks).
3) Seasons - BV is for knowledge sims, OFB is for fortune sims, but seasons has something for everybody. And I love the eggplant juice!
4) Pets - pets plus precipitation in seasons means ultimate lag, but I can handle it. I love breeding, and the Airedale Terrier is the cutest!
5) Nightlife - I don't use it that much. Not even the car. But it sure is better than the last two.
6) FreeTime - i get bored of it after a while. And what irritates me is the stupid wants my Sims roll when they get attached to a stupid hobby.
7) University - the most predictable expansion. Ever. There's a reason why it was the first expansion.

Stuff Packs... (I design my houses using the collections)
1) Glamour Life - I use it for almost every room. The master's bedroom, the dining room, the living room...
2) Kitchen and Bath Interior Design - I love it. Period.
3) Teen Style - My bedrooms have never been prettier. Though I wonder why they don't have a Nerd Collection. Perhaps they were offended by the idea? Hehehe. Just joking.
4) Family Fun - just because.
5) Celebration! - at least I use it, unlike the last one.
6) H&M Fashion - i hate even the clothes. I don't know why. Maybe i'm flashion-blinded. Or maybe because i'm a boy.

Is this true? You be the judge of that. But if it is, then AL must be UNI+Superstar+Makin Magic. Piss off. Other than that, may I ask how a wizard/witch is connected to an Apartment?

Okay, so I've been planning to make another (the boy who can't finish anything) story, and it's about an adult Sim who moves into the different neighborhoods to find out where she 'truly belongs' (i know, it's cheesy).

We all know that Pleasantview is Old Town twenty-five years later, also known as "The Land of Cheating Men and Mysterious Disappearances". Strangetown, is Area 51 of the Sims world. And Veronaville, well, I guess we all know what's in it.

But I can't find anything different with the other two neighborhood. I need something to spice it up. Can someone help me? Thanks!

So, I've finally decided to post something other than country-related topics (Teen Discussion, lol). Anyway, if you don't like fantasy, don't even bother reading this. Also, my first post won't have pictures. At least, not yet, because I have no idea where the heck I can download horses (and if I manage to find one, I'm gonna have a week arguing with myself if I'm gonna download it or not, considering I'm not much of a cc magnet)
Enjoy, and tell me what you think!



Salutations. I am Reed Spurge Willow. You can also call me R.S.W., but I suppose it would be better if you just call me Reed. We won’t be able to see and talk, so why do it in the first place? Anyway, I am researching on a mysterious topic; compiling facts and details, fathoming all of them. I have compiled all of these facts into three groups, the first one being the one you’re holding. I named it, The Genesis, and it goes like this:

     The night was dark as it always was every autumn. The moon, seemingly centered in the starless night sky, shimmered brightly, its light crossing the horizons. The air was as freezing as that in the northern lands, just as it was silent and peaceful. For diviners and prophets, a night like this would not predict anything unusual. No coming rain, no sudden invasions, nothing. On the other hand, for the goddess of life, Eluna, this would be one of the most unusual nights in her immortal life.

     Somewhere in the forest were five women, each riding horses. One of them was not really a woman, but a young girl, within the other four. They were escorting the girl to a place hidden deep within the mystically illuminated forest, where the fewest of people have ventured into, and came back to tell their tale.

     “Bring her to me,” whispered Eluna to the ears of one of the women, while she was sitting on a rock. She looked like she was talking to the wind, but her words reach the ears of that woman, no matter how far they were from each other. “Bring her to me, so she will be safe. I can protect her from the grave danger that awaits her. What I have seen shall be no more, and we will all be safe…”

        “We are doing everything we can, great Eluna. This is the fastest our horses can run and we’re taking a turn on almost every third tree we see. Please, help us. We are in great need of your help,” thought the oldest of them all, named Denilla Paera, whose thoughts reached the goddess thousands of feet away.

        “I’m afraid I cannot. I cannot directly interfere with your human troubles, however by bringing her to me, she shall be ensured of safety. Now hurry, and bring her to me, before all is lost…” was the reply she received in her mind.    

   “Okay, okay. Fine. Whatever,” Denilla replied in her thoughts, her emotions filled with impatience and irritation. “Just tell us where to go, so we don’t have to take so many turns.”

   “Watch out for the skies above…” came her reply. Denilla was rather irritated with this, as she asked for directions but the goddess told her to ‘watch out for the skies’. Still, she knew she was talking to a goddess, so she should follow her orders. Signaling the other three women, and they simultaneously turned into three different species of birds, flying to the night sky and leaving their horses free to roam the forest. Denilla was alone with the young girl, but she was hoping Eluna would help her.

   Soon, however, Denilla and the girl heard loud and rapid stomping of feet; it was as if there was a stampede of water buffalos running away from attacking lionesses. Soon after they heard flapping of large wings, like those of a pterodactyl’s, or possibly of a roc. From what they were hearing there seemed to be hundreds of them, even along with rolling wheels, only meaning to be siege weapons.

   The nervous little girl only became panicky. “What?! How could this happen? How could they have caught up to us?!” she asked, still not believing what she was hearing. Oh my god, this is bad. What if they caught us? What will happen to us? We’ll only be severely outnumbered!”

   “Stop panicking, your Majesty,” Denilla struggled to calm her, but even she was getting tense. The princess was right; when they caught up with them, it would not take more than an hour to finish them off. She knew, of course, that only she will be killed for they have other options for the princess.

   At last, Eluna spoke to Denilla once again. “You are nearing your safety. Follow the light, and you will be safe. Follow the light…” And with that, Denilla and the other girl pulled the reins of their horses as hard as they can to turn to the light, also hitting their backs.

   “The light. Got it, Eluna.”

   “I trust you my life, Mistress Denilla,” she said.

   “We shall protect you, your Majesty, no matter what. Even if the one who’s after you was once one of us, we will do whatever we can to stop her, even if it’s only the four of us. We know of her plans to use your memories to identify who the next Eriall will be and then kill him or her. We swear to the sacred earth of Isidora that she will never succeed. Just as long as you stay as close as possible to me, you will be safe.”

   “Yes, Mistress Denilla.”

   “Besides, your Majesty, even if your memories were taken, Veretia, Uria, Cahia and I will be the ones to search for your memories, if, memories can be searched, that is. Otherwise, we’re doomed for all eternity.”

   “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that.”

   The stomping of feet, rolling wheels and flapping wings grew louder, so the two yanked as hard as they can, but when they were only a few more meters away from the light, both their horses fell to their knees. A perfectly bad timing for the two, but they didn’t have a choice. Hesitating to be carried by Denilla, the princess ran with her to the blinding light.

   “Faster my dear children. Safety is near…”

The light shone to its fullest as they entered a clearing. The light lasted for a while, so the both of them came to an immediate stop and suddenly had to cover their eyes to avoid being blinded by too much brightness. Soon the light wore off; they expected to see the goddess Eluna sitting on a large boulder near a river. They thought wrong.

   Towards them, sitting on a large boulder near a river, was the one they wished they would have never seen their entire lives. She was a woman nearly as old as Denilla, and she, along with the other three calls her the Betrayer.

   “Idiots,” she said.

   “B*tch,” the Denilla replied strongly, leaving a hatred mark in her eyes.

   “Am I really that good in playing Eluna?”

   “You will not succeed, Alexandria! You will not triumph in being the Eriall!”
   “Oh yeah? Watch me.”

   Soon she and the young girl were surrounded by beasts and monsters, both on land and flying in the air. The three who flew were nowhere to be found. No one can rescue them.

   “The memories of the idiotic queen will finally be mine!” Alexandria raised a staff she had been holding all that time, and aimed it on the young girl’s head. The ornamental obsidian stone on top of her wand began to glow, which signaled her to cast the perfect curse. “Allaevarres…”

   “NO!”

   “Allaevarres felfanis!”

   Light covered the forest once again. The young girl’s memories were gone. As the Denilla struggled to wake the girl who fell asleep from the curse, Alexandria and her soldiers disappeared into the night, like the girl’s memories that have disappeared in an instant.

   Fortunately, Alexandria wasn’t the one who chanted the complete curse.



Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is NOT my native language, and I'm already struggling.

Yeah, I know. Me again. Sorry.

Anyway, I just had this idea about a contest. I noticed that (at least here in my country) there are tv contests for models, for singers, dancers, actors, blah blah blah. So I thought, why not start a contest involving writers? It's the search for the greatest novelist ever.

And if you're thinking, 'nobody would watch it because people don't watch to read'. I know. But it is a story of a tv show, so basically, you're not watching it. And the contestants don't really write novels and the judges read each and every one. They battle with each other by using their ideas, plots and simple creativity. The judges then decide on whose is the most original, creative, and inviting, and the worst would be eliminated, until there is only one left.



Do you think this is good enough?

Hi. Ever since I had the Sims 1 expansions, I've been meaning to know each and every version of this "RETICULATING SPLINES" text every time the game starts. I'm getting really disturbed about not knowing them, I don't know why. (All I know is that Sims 1: Reticulating Splines, Sims 2: Reticulating 3D Splines, Sims 2 Seasons: Unexpectedly Reticulating Splines(?), and Sims 2 FT: Reticulating Splines in the Zone)

Is there someone out there who knows something about this? Thanks!

Once I heard news of a fifteen-year old boy who was murdered by a gang of no good drug addicts having their ‘session’, because he was curious of the noise in the forest. I also heard of a young boy with heart failure who died because he wanted to know why he looked nothing like his parents, only finding out that he was ‘bought’ for 200 dollars. My brother was dumped by his girlfriend because he snooped into her privacy by secretly reading the text messages.
   There are always things in the world that people shouldn’t bother to poke their noses into. For instance, if a mother tells her son to not go and sneak up the attic, then it only means that he shouldn’t go and sneak up the attic. For some reason, there are things that explain why a person shouldn’t be so nosy or just plain curious. But there are always people who couldn’t help but be very nosy, and their curiosity is repaid by danger. Curiosity most of the time has consequences, no matter how many or how severe. In this story, the consequence was so severe it might even take his life, and if you’re just as curious, then I cannot stop your from reading on.
   
A customer just heard a loud sneeze from the back room of the flower shop. Then he heard another one. And another one. And one after that. His brows dropped and just from the counter, he tried to see beneath the blurry glass pane at the center of the red wooden door. But since he can’t see anything, he ignored the next few sneezes and fixed his eyes on the monitor of the cash register; the flowers he bought were worth a total of 34 dollars.
   Right after the man left the Blossomed Fields flower shop, Diana, the cashier, went straight to the back room, where sixteen-year old Richard Daniel Brown, also known as Chad, was sneezing the hell out of him. He was allergic to daffodils, and there were so many of them in the room, along with some other flowers. He was sitting, rather crouching on a wooden stool, his arms spread and relaxed on the table where Diana arranges flowers.
   “Son, haven’t I told you to just stay at home? Your father’s guests wouldn’t bother you in your room, so you don’t have anything to worry about,” Diana said, standing beside the open door, her left hand against it. That day, Chad’s stepfather was to have some police guests in their house; his colleagues and some other people working for the government.
   “But mother,” he replied with his usual reasoning voice; the last syllable a bit longer than the others. “Even if they don’t bother me by not going into my room, I still don’t have enough patience to withstand the clamor they’re gonna be making! It’s better if I stay here, where it’s quiet and I can have all the time to relax.”
   “Okay, listen here, Richard Brown,” said Diana, stating his full first name, meaning he did or said something his mother didn’t like. “First of all, you’re father is going to meet with some people from the government, meaning he and his colleagues have to be extremely formal if they don’t want to lose their job. Second, you know perfectly well that you’re allergic to daffodils and crabs, so you can’t be here, otherwise, I’m going to spend a lot of money on getting rid of that rash on your whole body again. And lastly, if you really want to stay here, then forget about relaxing, because it’s nea-ring three o’clock in the afternoon, and you know it’s half-price hour, so you won’t be able to relax your butt off until four because you’re going to help me.”
   “Wow. You are a mother,” thought Chad.
   “So? Are you going to leave or not?”
   “I’ll just leave. Goodbye,” he said after a sigh, then immediately entering the main shop and exiting the building. The library was not that far away from where he was, and it’s still afternoon, so he decided to head there with hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.
   Richard Daniel Brown is the only son of Diana Brown and some man he has not known of, ever. He has, at least, a stepfather, named David, who works as a police officer. Diana, on the other hand, works as a psychiatrist on weekdays, so she started a flower shop years ago that she would open on weekends. Though it may seem quite mysterious, Chad has never known of any relatives on his mother’s side; not a single uncle, auntie or cousin. He didn’t even know who his grandparents were. He used to ask his mother about this, but she never answered, until eventually he grew out of it, even though it’s crucial for his life.
   Of all the kinds of fiction, fantasy would be the one Chad loves the most. Reading was his favorite pastime, and most of the time he chooses to read fantasy novels. He had always been fascinated by the impossible and the mysterious, though he never wanted to be a part of occult. The thought that fairies, elves, dwarves, gnomes, orcs, goblins, centaurs, mermaids, harpies, and so many other creatures might be living in the world gave him life. Just thinking about what people might have been able to do with nature excites him. He was an adorer of the impossible.
   He often pictured himself to be a part of a fantasy world. He was a prince, ruling over a whole nation, where some were wizards, witches, and fortune-tellers. In that world there would be creatures he read in novels, and thousand others which aren’t in books; creatures only he has seen, in his imagination.  

The town was alive with citizens, young and old alike. Children played in the streets like there was no tomorrow, and fences were the only ones that stood between those chatty mothers. Chad heard different splashes of water, as fathers cleaned their cars, some helped by their sons. This was normal; this was life in Lakeridge. Teens skating, couples dating as they walk around sidewalks, and much more. Too bad for Chad, though. He was pretty handsome, that was true; his sapphire blue eyes compliment his shiny ebony hair, but he didn’t have that something that those other handsome guys at school have. He was shy and aloof at the same time, and most of all, he was wildly sarcastic. Football players just push him around every time they pass by, and that was always painful, especially when he hits the locker. Some girls do like him, but his eyes were focused on Ariana Willow, the most beautiful and most popular girl in school. Of course, she doesn’t even know he exists, ‘coz she’s just too popular, and that’s the only explanation I need to tell you.
   After passing a few more houses, Chad finally made it to the town library. Inside there was nothing but bookshelves, thousands of them, arrange around the circular walls. It was silent. Normally silent. As he entered, he noticed that no one was around except of course the old librarian, Mrs. Calloway, and her three cats. She and her cats, were asleep, however, Mrs. Calloway was softly snoring while her head was over her two hands, leaned against the counter. Chad didn’t care about this, he continued on to the only aisle he knew of.
   Thousands of old, dusty books awaited him on Aisle 24, where there was no space to place anything else. Chad might have read every single book in here, he can’t re-member it anymore, but he’ll just have to find out. He walked to the end of the aisle, checking for books he hadn’t read before. Calloway’s snores were getting softer and softer, until he can only hear his thoughts.
   When he looked at the last book at the aisle, that was it. Time to look for something else. He had no idea where adventure books were, and most importantly he didn’t at all want to stumble upon biographies and autobiographies. Just staring at them makes him twitch. He had no choice but to walk back to the beginning of the aisle and move on to either Aisle 23 or 25.
   Before he was even halfway the aisle, he heard the sound of a book being placed in between other books, and then footsteps. Someone was actually in the library aside from Calloway. He ran to the beginning of the aisle, but the footsteps stopped, but he didn’t even hear the door open. Something was strange. The person could have sat on a chair and relaxed, but then again, he would have heard something being dragged.
   He entered the next aisle. He only saw books. He moved to the next aisle, and the next ones after that, but there were just dusty books. That was until he was on the twelfth aisle (it was a circular library, and the shelves end at Aisle 30), when he noticed something different.
   A book from the other side of the aisle was glowing a blue light.
   Chad grew curious. Well, he always was. Without thinking, he ran to the other side of the aisle. Seconds passed, and he was face-to-face with the glowing book, shining brightly. He dragged it from the shelf and looked at the front cover. There was not a single letter written on it, but there was a diamond crystal fixed on the center. Not only that, the book was brand new, he could even smell the scent of a newly opened one. He caressed the gem.
   An unexplainable feeling went over him. He felt heat, but he also felt cold. He had no idea his eyes glowed. Wind gathered around him, blowing away the books, out of the shelves. He floated in mid-air.
   When he regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the wooden floor, with some books on him. In his right hand was the book he touched, and around him, the two shelves were empty, as all of the books were scattered on the floor of Aisle 12. He waited for Calloway or any other person to walk up and shout at him, but apparently there was still no one around, and the widow was still sleeping.
   He stood up holding the book and paced upon a chair at the center of the library. He didn’t mind picking up the books. There was just too many of them, he figured.
   He opened it as soon as he sat. But much to his disappointment, there was nothing written on any page of the book. Not a single letter or punctuation mark. He banged his head on the table, upset about making a total mess because of nothing. He grabbed it back and quickly walked out of the library before Calloway could even wake up and know about the mess. He thought he could write on it, considering the fact that there was no copyright or anything written on it. Also, the cover was nice and very valuable, once he got the diamond out.
   The moon was already up. It was nightfall. The streets were dark and nonetheless silent. This made him wonder, because Lakeridge Town is a busy town, no matter what time of the day it is. Every time he comes home at night from somewhere with his parents, the streets were usually covered with the bright lights of the lampposts. Not only that, the streets were usually surrounded with adults who walk around a lot. And of course, that night was different.
   Sure enough, it was a long walk home, but that wouldn’t be a problem soon, because nine months from now he’d get to have a car that his stepfather promised for him. His life would be easier. Not only would he get to show his car off to his schoolmates, he might also catch Ariana Willow’s attention. But that’s still nine months from now, so he knew he had to wait.
When he entered his house through the front door, he immediately saw Diana’s strict-looking face, and he had a feeling that a good nagging session was about to begin, knowing his mom for sixteen years. That’s when he had a feeling he should have a reason ready.
   “Where have you been?” she asked.
   “The library,” he replied, putting the book down on the coffee table.
   “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
   “No.”
   “It’s past seven in the evening for crying out loud! What are you trying to do?! Hurt yourself? Did you perhaps forget that a wolf is at large?! What would we do if we see or hear that you were attacked by that wolf?”
   “A wolf is at large? Really? I didn’t know.”
   “No more excuses, Richard Daniel Brown. You are grounded from going anywhere except here, the flower shop, and school. That’s it. Right after school, you head directly to the flower shop, or head straight home with me. Do you understand?”
   Of course, arguing with Diana Brown a.k.a Mom would be a silly thing to do. For generations, arguing with mothers had only led to more grounding, so it’s always better to just say yes every time she asks if their children understand.
   “Yes, Mom.”
   “Good. Now go and see if Ashley is already awake.”
   “Yes, Mom,” and so he headed upstairs.
   The second floor of the house has three main rooms. The first and largest one is the master’s bedroom where Diana and David sleep. They also have their own bathroom. He doesn’t. The next is Ashley’s bedroom, just in front of the master’s bedroom. Inside there is a crib, a changing station, where he often changes Ashley’s diapers, while she’s still being potty-trained, and so far, nothing has happened. She also has her own small bathroom, where Dad or Mom usually bathes her. Then there’s his room, on the corner, where Sunset’s bed is also placed. Sunset is his dog, a golden retriever. He has a guitar, which he usually places beside Sunset’s bed, and his small armoire, where he puts not only clothes but also some pictures of Ariana Willow.
   When he reached the second floor, he went to check if Ashley was still sleeping. He saw that she was, so he screamed downstairs through the stairs, “She’s still sleeping, Mom,” and right after that he heard Ashley cry as she awoke from he scream. “She’s awake, Mom.”
   “Then bring her here,” Mom replied.
   And so he entered Ashley’s room, held her and carried her downstairs, then handed her to Mom. Mom took her to the dining room and placed her on her high chair, which was designed in pink and had a picture of a cake on it. Mom opened the fridge and prepared food for the toddler.
   “By the way, I went to the cemetery today, just to see if Devon and Dawson’s tombs were still clean,” he said, conscious of what Mom would say. Sadly there was a pause. And it was a very long one. Then she spoke.
   “Good.”
   Good? That’s all?! That’s what you expect from a mother who lost twins when they were toddlers?! That time he thought she’d say something different, and he never expected that she’d say just that word!
   He was only ten years old when Mom gave birth to twins, namely Devon Brown and Dawson Brown. He lived with the twins for four years, and he have really loved them, although on those times he felt some jealousy passing around. Sadly, when they were four and he was fourteen, his brothers both got dengue fever. They stayed for the hospital for many days, only to find out that there was no hope for them. Eventually they died, and David grieved for their lost. Now they’re two years dead.
   Then he heard the sound of a vehicle, and at once he knew that that was Dad, who left with his colleagues after the party.
   The door opened and then closed, then he went to the living room to find Dad holding the book he ‘borrowed’ from the library that Calloway didn’t even knew. As he approached him, he gave him an interested look and handed the empty book to him.
   “Son, what’s this?” he asked.
   “I have no idea, Dad. I haven’t read it yet,” he lied.
   “I see. Well, happy reading!”
   He always hears the expression ‘happy reading’ from his father every time he sees him with a book or near a book, and he getting irritated by that. Still, he couldn’t change David’s cheerfulness, and he might hurt him if he suddenly says “Dad, stop it. It’s irritating,” so he couldn’t do that. Sure, he has the freedom to say that, but he might get more than a grounding.
   “Thanks,” he said, which was the automatic reply every time Dad says that.
   “Darling!” Mom exclaimed, and then she hurried to the living room and Dad stood up from the sofa, and they hugged each other romantically, something he’s been dreaming to do with Ariana, but that’s only a dream, and will always be a dream. “Have you heard? A wolf is at large! Can you do something about it? I don’t want that wolf near Chad or Ashley or even Sunset!”
   “We’ll see,” was the only thing Dad could say.
   “Oh good. Anyway, dinner’s ready, so you better go to the kitchen.”
   Dad and Mom walked to the kitchen, and he was about to, too, when he recalled something he almost didn’t notice, and not noticing that would cost a lot. Thanks to what Mom said, he remembered what it was.
   “Mom, where’s Sunset?”
   “Oh, no need to worry, Chad. He’s upstairs in your room.”
   “Has he eaten yet?” he asked.
   “Oh of course. But ever since I heard about the wolf news, I hadn’t allowed her to leave the house, because that pest of a wolf might attack her, and I wouldn’t want you to experience another death.”
   So she didn’t have the opportunity to play with his friend dogs Webster, a big black schnauzer, owned by Mr. Seins; Pepper, a Chihuahua owned by the Vermont sisters; Buster, a German Shepherd owned by Ms. Laura; and Gemstone, a poodle owned by the Willow family. Then again, maybe those dogs weren’t allowed to get out too, knowing the citizens of Lakeridge, he thought.
   “So that’s why the streets were silent and dark. They were dark because all of the people remained inside their houses to be safe from the wolf, and so there was no use for the lampposts to be lit, and of course, the streets were silent because there was no one to shout, play on the streets, sing while walking, or other stuffs,” he thought.
   “Chad? Chad? Richard Daniel Brown, are you listening?!’ Mom said, and he hasn’t realized that he remained standing there, thinking.
   “Let’s go and eat, Chad,” said Dad. “You can read that book later, if you’re so busy thinking about it,” and so he followed them to the kitchen.    























Yeah, I know, it's long. Thanks for your patience in reading, it's because it's the whole chapter one. (Thanks still if you skipped through some parts, or just read the first paragraph. at least you tried!)



Anyway, should I continue this? Answers greatly appreciated!

It;s cliche, it's overdone (which almost means the same as cliche), it's boring, and it's stupid. Yes, I know. I'm not really the kind of writer that everybody dreams of, like JK Rowling (which, I have no idea why, coz even fiction haters love HP, at least I know I don't...). But I find it as my passion, and nothing can stop me... yet.

Enough with the absurdities, I have a story idea related to Big Brother and/or Survivor, where five adult siblings (literally) fight for the inheritance, because their mother, who born them and raised them and loved them dearly, became an old hag who would only give the whole inheritance to one of the children (The father is already dead, which is why the Inheritance battle occured). So do you think this is a good idea?

Each of the children has their own personality. The first born is an aggressor who shall, and must always get what she wants, and she's the one who wants the money the most, being a Fortune Aspiration Sim. The next would be twins; the one born first is the Black Sheep of the family, who doesn't care about the game because he thinks he got nothing else to lose, but would still appreciate the money, so he can have a lab (Knowledge Aspired). The younger twin is the emo of the family, or the victim, as what she likes to call herself, but her ways of 'forgiving herself' are lusty ways (Romance). The next child is a family-oriented young man, who needs to have some money before getting engaged with the love of his life. The last child is still in college, a socialite who didn't have as many opportunities to gain money as her siblings. She knows that money can actually buy friends (I didn't say true friends, just friends), and the more money, the more popular she'll become.
The last character is the mother of the family, who turned the will into a game. She is the former Minister of Education, and has a twisted, twisted mind (Makes you wonder what she did to schoolchildren during her term).

Yeah, I know you're bored. Is it really that long?




Anyway, do you think at least one will like it? Please don't insult me, I already do that to myself, and I have a fragile ego...




Thanks!