Sarah of Lake Munroe Blurb

To Diane, who's a live wrapped cupcake.
( that sounds weird :-) )


* I was there, in my room with Mr Miller, the tall, wealthy Scottish man with me.*
 Meet Sarah, the ten year old girl with her own river. Her Mother left when she was one, her father died, and she's taken away to the wretched orphanage. But Sarah is lucky. She meets her mum, and together, they lead an exciting life of striving.
Diane is Jaqueline Wilson, the second. Read Sarah of Lake Munroe for free in the fabulous blog,
Dianeandherwritingworld.wordpress.com

Anya Rafa of stories-by-anya.blogspot.com : Fabulous read, great description and soft text. My heart is weeping.

Smiling may you come and smiling may you go. :)

A Wrapped Cup Cake

I stared out the window and sighed. A group of raggedy kids, even a lady and her baby, were standing a few paces back from the Gold Cammer and waving.
In a few minutes Sammeth Street would come into view, and the countryside view, old faded barns and cornfields would disappear. In it's place would be shining horses and wagons, frilly old ladies and golden carriages.

Blurb

Ivy ran into her room, sobbing. Why did she have to leave Europe, so suddenly? Is there something going on, she thought.
Matt, her brother had said "We're broke."

Meet Ivanne Solasticce Maut. The rich, pretty girl in the green skirt. But not for long. Mr Solasticce's oil company was ruined when a great big wave pulverised it. Ivy, Matt, Laureane and Hugh move into the blistery hot India, where camels are worth a river of gold. It seems bad, but Ivanne has a strong point, she can make friends. Will India be as tough as it is, or is it really a wrapped cupcake?
Read to find out!
~ Anya
To: Felicia feliciaclar.wordpress.com , and Malia Gillouin. Sorry if the adress is wrong! :D

Random Apple Poem

Apples
An apple,
A golden apple,
A green granny smith.

When you bite it it's juicy,
When you hold it it's hard,
Bite it,
It's crunchy,
No more fits!

A medicine for all,
As they say,
An apple a day,
Keeps the doctor away!

I just posted this from Indonesia!!!! Eek!

So Far.....

Okay, so, sorry I haven't been on much. I guess its because A, I'm on my youtube channel too much (Bushberry233), B, we're packing to go to Indonesia, and C, well does there have to be a C?
This is a quick story I wrote...

Misti and Lace

A long time ago, in the busy streets of London, other than the stray dogs, people, and tourists, there were cats. Six of them, to be exact. Mittens, Crawl, Mother Cat, Darcy, Misti, and Lace. Mittens and Darcy were very naughty, and Crawl was a blind kitten that lived with Mother Cat, Lace, and Misti.
Eventually, news came along that Darcy was taken by a young boy named Greg, and Mittens was taken to the pet store after an incident involving a rich lady's satin gloves and too much ginger ale.
One day, as Mother Cat helped Crawl along the side of the road, a horse cart moved forward. In the front, a man in a fine tailored suit whipped the rope across the black and brown horse's backs.
"Mother?" tiny Crawl mumbled. "I can walk myself just fine!"
"You want to?" Lace advised. "It would be safer at the park or next to the pet store."
Suddenly, just as Mother Cat let Crawl go, the whip of the horses swung in between the horses. Crawl had somehow wandered in there, and Misti hissed in surprise as it whipped the poor orange tabby on the head. The horses were surprised of Misti's yell, leered forward in alarm. The stage coach driver toppled forward, grabbing the edge of his seat just in time.
Mother Cat swiftly ducked under and pulled the bleeding kitten out of the way.
To be continued....

The Magic Door (Part Two)

That night, Hazel, Charlotte and Hilary lay in soft feather beds. It was a chilly night, and they were lying in the guest room. Each girl had their own bed. Their hair was damp from their previous hot bathes.
"I can't belive it," Charlotte said, twirling her brown curls around her finger and looking at the others. "All we were expecting was some leftovers..."
"This dress is much too fancy," Hilary complained.
*
That

The Three Orphans

This is a story where I, Anya Rafa, am attempting to write old-fashioned.  If it sounds weird, don't hesitate to let me know. 

A girl and her friends stood at the door, the door that would change their lives forever.

Hazel, Charlotte, and Hilary were their names. They wore battered clothing and had tangled hair. Their fingernails were filled with dirt.
"Should....should we open it?" Charlotte stuttered to no one in particular.
"I do NOT know," Hilary managed.
"Come on guys," Hazel chuckled nervously. "Once we get inside, they'll give us hot baths nd new clothes, serve us potato pie and pudding, and we'll live like princesses!"
"I don't WANT to be a princess," Hilary pulled a face.
"I wouldn't mind," Charlotte said thoughtfully.
"Okay," Hazel muttered, ignoring the other girls. "Here goes."
Hazel dusted her battered pants, ran her fingers through her hair, and placed her filthy hand on the door knob.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
"Wait!" Charlotte shrieked. "You're supposed to KNOCK! God knows WHAT will happen to u--"
Hilary covered her mouth. "Quiet!" she hissed. She pulled the door shut. "First we need to get clean."
Charlotte spotted a clay birdbath nearby and washed the three girls washed their faces.
As they did so, their hearts ached with jealousy. How unfair it was that BIRDS were cleaner than them!
After that, Hazel found a small, thin, stick, and the girls took turns cleaning their nails as best as they could.
Finally, Hilary licked her lips and knocked. After a brief moment,  the door opened to reveal a grumpy woman, wearing a fine satin dress and blue silk scarf.
"Can I help you?" she sniffed in a posh voice.
"Uh," Hilary stepped forward. "Can we, er, I mean, may, uh, may we...h-have a meal?"
"Humph!" the lady rolled her eyes. "Just wipe your feet."
The girls, guessing this was their invitation, wiped their filthy feet on a woven green mat and stepped inside.
The wide room contained an impressive fluffy white rug,  a brick fire place, and a fine antique grandfather clock.
"Maid?" a soft voice called. "Who is it?"
"Just some street-girls wanting supper," the lady replied.
The girls, shocked that the lady they'd encountered was a maid, suddenly felt shy and stupid.
Suddenly, across a narrow hall, a beautiful lady strode into the room. Her dress was pure silk, with a floral bodice and winged sleeves. On her pale neck, a gold chain held a diamond in place.
"Oh, my!" the lady said smiling kindly. "My name is Victoria Fields. That lady beside you, is my maid, Andrea Morsoe. Who are you?"
Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but Hazel, as the leader of the gang, stepped forward and cleared her throat.
"My name is Hazel Williams, and these are my friends; Hilary Jones and Charlotte Smith." She smiled nervously.
"Well," Victoria said. "I have been looking for some workers..." she paused. "Maid?"
"Yes, ma'am?" Andrea replied.
"Bring these girls some of Dorothy's old clothes," Victoria smiled.
To be continued.....