Name: Beth
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Word found on card: Weather
Appearance: Personality: Bubbly personality. Opinionated. Temperamental.
History: Her family died in a car-crash. She grew up in an orphanage and was adopted when she was five. Still quite touchy about the past.
Other: Up for love. And a friend. Friends with Zac and Sam?
Name: Peter Winsburry
Age: 19 (will turn 20 in two months)
Gender: Male
Word found on card: Illusions (can that be?) He'll be able to create and control people's illusions or fantasies.
Appearance:Him. Personality: Laid back. A bit courageous, and stands up for himself, and other people close to him. Not afraid to speak out loud. He'll lay low, but when messed with he will fight back. His a bit romantic, but also very protective. Also, when someone gets on his nerves he won't hesitate on throwing some punches, so he has an unstable temper.
History: He has an older sister, that went to college, and his parents live in New Zealand. he didn't left them in good terms, so he can't relay on family if something turns out badly.
Other: Up for love. He is a professional pianist, and a very well known one.
Also, he and Caitlin are good friends. Emma, can he be good friends with Matt?
I'll start with my other character!
Caitlin I woke up, stretching my arms against my pillow, and sitting up, still very sleepy. It was Friday (?), nothing new to do. I was still awaiting the responses of the universities I had applied to. I was nervous to hear from Oxford.
I went downstairs, still in my pajamas, and ate my breakfast: cereals with milk. For years I had this habit; I liked it, it was something simple to eat in the morning. Sunday was pancakes day. Yummy. The phone rang; it was aunt Tracey, confirming we'd had dinner on monday. I replied enthusiastically, even thought I'd prefer not to attend to it.
I laid on my couch, watching tv. 'Grey's Anatomy' was on.
Half-way through the episode, the doorbell rang.
I groaned, and got up, not wanting to leave my tv.
it was the post mail guy. He had an ASAP envelope, and I signed a document, and soon he left. I went back in the house.
"Dear Miss Caitlin,
you are upon invited to attend to a dinner party, this Sunday (?) night, at the Greenstome mainson. Please be dressed properly.
It is requested your presence at 8 o'clock.
Good regards,
Mr.Greenstome."
Caitlin was speecheless; she was pretty sure she didn't even know Mr.Greenstome, even thought his well character was known all over the city, and probably the state.
Piglet: How do you spell love? Pooh: You don't spell it. You feel it.
Fred tripped me, again. My books spilled out of my arms, and I fell to the ground.
I could feel eyes boring into me, soaking up every detail of my small body twisted on the floor. I hated it.
Fred laughed at me, and his friends joined along. I sighed. Though I hated him and his whole gang, I had gotten used to them picking on me. I quickly picked up my books and walked away.
*****
At home, I checked my email. There was nothing new, just countless adds about "Free Baby Gerber Food Coupons!" staring at me. My best friend, Yasmine, hadn't emailed me. She was probably off doing something with the "popular" group. I was starting to doubt our friendship. These days, she ignored me like the plague.
The doorbell rang. I answered the door, and on the floor was a small envelop addressed "Miss Zac Herring" in fancy letters. I closed the door, mesmerized by the envelop itself. Slowly, I tore it open, and inside was a carefully folded paper.
"Miss Zac Herring,
You are invited to a formal dinner party at Lockey Mansion on Sunday, July 15. Please arrive promptly at 7.
Thank you."
There was no name.
Help! I can't remember if I'm the evil twin or the good one!
I hated school! I wished I didn't have to go like my cousin Jackson. I bit my lip. Jackson had went through enough and school wouldn't make it better.
At my last school, blending in had been my specialty, but here it was different. Obviously they hadn't had a new girl with hair as bright red as mine. Great. Just perfect.
I headed straight to my next class. English V. I smiled a little. I loved English and since I was a senior this year, they would probably go easy on me. Right? I hoped so. I was so done with school and studying...and homework.
I looked across the room. Some guy was staring at me and frankly it was freaking me out. He grinned at my expression and winked. I blinked rapidly and looked away. Was that flirting or was he just being rude to the new girl. At my old school no one ever talked to me, much less flirted with me.
Suddenly I remmered that strange invitation. It invited me to dinner. Dinner! I didn't even know anyone in this town and they asked me to go to dinner. How strange. I probably wouldn't go.
"Hey, you're Adrianna, aren't you?" Someone asked. I nodded, but didn't look at them.
"I prefer Adrian though," I replied, softly.
**Anyone care to talk to her?
Jackson
I put a hand to my forehead and tried to ignore the nausea. Drinking always made me feel better...until the morning. I blinked slowly as the sunlight poured in through my curtains. I would have to remember to get darker ones.
"Jackson?" My aunt asked. Or was that yelling. "You up, hon?"
"Yeah, Aunt Mel, I'll be there in a second," I resonded, clutching my aching head.
"Hung over?" Aunt Mel questioned kindly from the side of my bed. I nodded, sheepishly. I told her I would stop drinking, but it was just so hard after...well, the accident. I just had to drink that away. There was nothing else I could do.
"Here's some water and an advil," she smiled, laying it on my nightstand. "Oh and a letter for you. It just came in the mail."
I nodded, ripping it open. I was shocked. It was the same invitation Adrian got yesterday. I pursed my lips. I wasn't too happy about her going alone in the first place. After all, she was like my baby sister. She was what I still lived for. I better go, just to be there for her. No one could mess with her if I was there.
I got dressed as quickly as I could. The advil hadn't exactly kicked in, but I knew I needed to get out. The only time I ever got out now was if I was buying a drink or going to the bar. Pathetic.
"I'll be back later Aunt Mel," I called.
"Well where are you going Jackson?" She asked.
"I need decent clothes. You don't really think I would let Adrianna go to that dinner party alone, did you?" I asked.
"Good! Go on hon," she grinned. I felt a little guilty. She hoped so much that I would get better. That I'd return to normal. That would never happen. I would never the old Jackson ever again. Ever.
I cranked up my car and drove off. I didn't need something too fancy...just something nice.
Hermione, shut your ungodly, lopsided mouth and quit interrupting! 20 points from Gryffindor. You know, for the brightest witch of your age you can sure be a dumba** sometimes. *smiles* 10 points to Dumbledore!
*sorry. it's supposed to be in the same place, but Greenstome mansion and Lockey mansion are same place. The place where Zac lives refers it to Lockey mansion. Sorry for not making that clear*
Help! I can't remember if I'm the evil twin or the good one!
** Yeah, Peter and Matt could be good friends. That would be great. Poor Matt was a little bit of a loner
Sam
"No way." She stared at the creamy card held tightly in her hand. It was not the card she was astounded at, but what was printed on it. "No way."
"Sam, what is it?" Matt strode into the room, looking curious.
"An... an invitation."
He snorted. "You're always getting invitations. Whose party is it now?"
She looked up at him, eyes wide with shock. "Evelyn. Her butler has sent these."
"These?"
She handed him his in a dreamy, not-very-there way. She watched the astonishment in his eyes blossom. Then he turned wary. Then angry.
He crumpled up the invitation.
"You're not going."
"Says who?" Sam's reply was sharp with irritation, her state of shock vanishing. "You? Just 'cause you're my older brother doesn't mean you can give me orders. I'm going. I wanna go. It sounds fun."
"Evelyn is dangerous and deluded. God knows, this 'dinner party' could turn out to be a mass murder. You're not going. Once I tell Mum and Dad about this I'm sure they'll agree."
She glared at him, anger making her shake. "You can't do that. I'm sixteen. Nearly seventeen. I deserve a little independence."
"But not right now."
"You're unbelievable."
"Sam-"
"No. No." She shook her invitation angrily at him. "I'm going." Then she stormed to her bedroom, where she could rant about her over-protective brother to her friends over the phone.
Your = Possession. Your shoes are so sweet! You're = Omission. You're quite strange...
If you are confused about which to put, simply say in your mind "you are" and see if that fits the sentence. If not, you are looking for your.
I was laying on my bed when my father came in with a letter. He threw it at me without saying anything and walked out again. I glared that his back, and then turned my attention back to the letter. I never got mail.
I picked it up carefully and opened it. I pulled out what looked like a pretty invitation.
I never get invited to things, except when it's something my friends do.
I opened it with shaking hands, and began to read.
Dear Miss Alexia, You are upon invited to attend to a dinner party, this Sunday night, at the Greenstone mansion. Please be dressed properly. It is requested your presence at 8 o'clock. Good regards, Mr.Greenstome
I looked at it with raised eyebrows and read it about three more times. This was odd. I didn't know old man Greenstone. Why was he inviting me?
I shrugged and put the invitation on my bed side table. I guess I would go. I had nothing else to do.
Chris read the letter, a confused grin spreading across his face as he did so. There was something so surreal about him, of all people, being invited to a party. The fact that the host would be one of the most infamous people known in the neighbourhood just made it even stranger. There must have been a catch, and where there was a catch, Chris was not. He screwed up the letter and threw it in the bin, determined to forget about it within an hour.
He succeeded, to some extent, but it was only two hours later that the letter came back to his mind. As if it had prepared itself against hi forgetfulness, the letter refused to be removed from his thoughts, and finally he decided to find the letter again and open it. He read it again and decided that, seeing as he had nothing else to do, he would go to the party. He knew where to find it, and the host and whoever else was invited could make good conversation.
I refuse to acknowledge the existence of this signature.
He made his way to his sister's room, intending to apologise to her and let her rant at him. He'd rather that than her going to that dinner party. It was dangerous around Evelyn. Why didn't she realise that?
Because she finds danger exciting, he thought grimly answering his own question.
When he reached her door he heard music playing. Surprisingly, she hadn't turned it up to as loud as it went. Maybe she wanted to fume in private, without Dad bursting in demanding for her turn it down.
He knocked loudly on the door, hoping she could hear him over the music.
"Sam?" he said.
There was no answer.
Matt pushed out a sigh. She was still angry with him. Well, why not? The party would be starting any minute now. "look, Sam, I'm sorry. It's just too dangerous. Who knows what that crazy woman would do."
there was still no answer.
"Evelyn's unstable," he continued, listening intently for an answer. There was none. getting worried, he added: "Sam, I don't want you to get hurt; you're my baby sister."
He expected her to rip open the door and lay into him. She hated being called that. There was no way she'd let that go unanswered.
Anxiety bubbled inside him as he opened her door.
His gaze went straight to her open window. Her curtains fluttered in the slight breeze that blew into the empty room.
Your = Possession. Your shoes are so sweet! You're = Omission. You're quite strange...
If you are confused about which to put, simply say in your mind "you are" and see if that fits the sentence. If not, you are looking for your.
It's not too late to join, is it? This sounds interesting!
Singing: It's more than my forte; it's my fortissimo --- They say "Guns don't kill people. People kill people." Well, I think guns help. If you just stand there and yell BANG I don't think you're going to kill too many people...
This sounds interesting!
