Needs Title! suggestions welcome!

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The bright morning sun came down through the dew-coverd trees, reflecting off every single drop of water. My horse slowly chewed the grass that weaved inbeetween the towering trees. I sat in the blanket of moss that coverd the crumbling path.
"Come on Berka, we can't stay here all day," Berka gave out a loud neigh as in saying for me to just let her eat, but she came anyway.
I hopped up on her back and started to ride down the brick path. The soft clump clop of Berka's hooves was like music to my ears. It was the only music I heard lately. Or, maybe I heard alot, if you count screams and againising pain. I shook my head, this was the way it was going to be for the rest of my life I finally decided. We will never have peace in Beleva, the place I called home. But it was my home no longer, ever since the Careon took it over it was a place of slavery, descruction, and sadness. My mind slowly eased out of reality and into a memory the memory of what the Careon did to me. And what I will revenge.

"But why mommy? why?"
"Because, dear, if we stay here we might-" she paused to wipe her tears that were falling down her cheeks "We...we...might die darling, we might die" she hurried her pace as she packed all of our belongings into a big bag, her scruffy red hair flying every which way.
"But what about dada?"
"He'll follow us, honey, he'll follow us" she said brushing back my dirty hair, the biggest smile on her face. She turned around and continued packing. 'But why mommy? why will we die here?'

A loud bang erupted from the front door. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, its them, its the Careon, oh no," my mom hurried around the room in hiding things that were vauluble, things that she didn't want the Careon to get and most inportently: me.
She stuffed me the closet told me to keep as quiet as possible and then ran towards the door. Breathing very hard she opend the door. I couldn't see anything but I could hear. And what I heard gave me a ereversable, mental scar, in my heart. This is what happend: Before my mom did anything she pleaded for mercy. But the Careon paid no attention. I heard them fool around with someone thing large. I held my breath. "No please," my mom cried. "No please," she said again. The Careon said nothing. And the next thing I heard was a long loud bang.


I let out a deep sigh, those memories were cold and hard to think about. Its been 5 years since the Careon killed my mother, and ever since then I had to do everything by myself; I was forced to find food for myself and make shelter out of anything I could find. The war didn't make it any easier ethier.
I had to run from the Careon, because just like they were after my mother and father, they were after me too. And just like my mother and father were after the Caroen, I was after the Careon too.
***Honorary 11-Year-Old***

Heh-COT-ee-GUR-el

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=D> =D> =D> =D>

Yusssss...YOU'VE POSTED IT!

weehhe!

Where is the really good part, about him in the bar or whatever?
Graffiti is the most passionate form of literature there is.

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I need to write more, it wouldn't make sense if I put it up right after this.
***Honorary 11-Year-Old***

Heh-COT-ee-GUR-el

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NIce!!! Love-r-ly and nice. I like it.

However ...
"Oh no, oh no, oh no, its them, its the Careon, oh no,"

I wouldn't keep that as one long sentence. Break it up a little.

But otherwise it's great!
I had to run from the Careon, because just like they were after my mother and father, they were after me too. And just like my mother and father were after the Caroen, I was after the Careon too.
I love this end sentence. Gives you the dot dot dot effect.

Lastly, I would just like to say that I don't have a title for my story either. It's just one of those things. Don't push for a title, good things rarely come like that.
Oh, you're angry! Click your pen.
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Good detail with the horse. I got a really good picture of your character, where she was riding, as well as the connection she has with the horse. But you could give us so much more of the landscape, and the atmosphere.

What I didn't really get was that this was a war-torn country. Expand on that. What is causing all this misery? Why did this person or these people want to have her parents killed?

The part where you say she's going into a flashback isn't necessary. Very often, it's not even necessary to have one. Just tell us where she is going and why. What does she want, and why does she want it?

In the flashback, the mother said "oh no" far to many times to seem realistic. It also might not be realistic to have her say to such a young child that they might die. Usually, parents say they can't stay or go somewhere because "it's not safe" rather than say something that might be too frightening. It's also not necessary to say "This is what happened" Don't tell us something is happening. Just show us. Make it happen.

My final point: work on your spelling.
Please, sit down before you fall down.
Belloq, "Raiders of the Lost Ark"




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Like El, I like the last bit. B-E-A-utiful!!! Well done!
~~Honary 11-year old~~

Would you like some bread with your pepper?

See that freak with blood shot eyes and a mole on his eyelid over there?
He is so hot.


I hate peas.



I always knew that deep down in every human heart, there is mercy and generosity. No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.
— Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom