"I’ve just watched this shitty film starring Robert Pattison as Salvador Dali.
It was really, Truly horrible.
Then something really strange happened. One minute I was glued to the screen, fascinated and repulsed by Robert Pattison’s stupid potato face, the next……

Huh? I felt a strange sensation on my left foot. I looked down. A strange, metallic liquid had dribbled onto my middle toe, preceded by an onslaught of more metallic globules landing plip plop onto my foot, raining down rhythmically in succession. A mini metallic shower in my own living room. Perplexed and frightened, I looked up to the ceiling. Oh my god.

The clock screwed onto our wall had doubled in size, and was melting rapidly. I say rapid, but the process seemed to be skewed by a distorment of time itself, appearing both quick and extremely slow at the same time. I ran out into the kitchen. All the clocks were melting, and that strange sense of timelessness was heavy in the air once more.

It was like I was walking through a dream.
The real Savlavor himself suddenly sprouted out of a vase, his limbs stretched back in forth in ryhtm with an unknown beat, and I’d like to say his face was pallid, but I can not truly describe the colour I was faced with at that moment . It was a totally new colour, from a colour wheel unlocked in some dark recess of my brain which had been long forgotten at birth.

Now he stood, very much real and alive, in front of me. The Hollywood hologram vision on the screen behind him seemed laughable now, even more so then this peculiar image before my eyes.

In that bizarre fast-slow motion, Salvador turned to the screen to gaze at Robert Pattison’s stupid foot face. He was staring at his own image, into his second soul (made of play dough, this time).

Salvador turned to face me. He brought out a picture of Cedric Diggory and began to cry.

"Don’t cry Salvador!" I cooed, as he stood there, hunched over the picture (which was old and tatty, evidently it had been brought out many times before).

"Cedric is alive. In our hearts. In here".

I smiled weakly and touched his heart. Then he looked at me in the eyes for the first time. We fell in love and had many deformed 40 feet babies . The end.

This is funny. =)

As the book progresses, a bleakness, reflected in the weather, which grows chillier and cloudier/rainier, pervades the house; strange, increasingly unsettling things happen; and the hands of the clock slowly move toward midnight.

Also, there are four blurred waxy marks on the kitchen wall that slowly resolve themselves into letters as the book progresses, finally spelling out the word "SOON."

I don’t remember what happens next, but the book ends with a new couple buying the house on a sunny day, the clock with its hands way away from midnight now.

A little out there, but perhaps any teachers or other bookworms will be able to help. Or anyone who’s never moved and lost their books. Thanks!

Could it be "Three Minutes to Midnight" by Mildred Davis?

http://www.amazon.com/Three-Minutes-Midnight-Mildred-Davis/dp/B000MNGRAW/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1300571830&sr=1-3

Yeah anyways, so they started to play this horrible horrible song.. I was wondering if it was playing in real life or the dream, so I woke myself up out of curiosity and because it was annoying. When I woke up there was no sound at all. But, that’s the first time I had a dream where I was actually able to think in the dream. Normally when I’m aware I’m asleep I automatically wake up.

ALSO, when I woke up, I tried going back to sleep so I closed my eyes. Normally when I close my eyes I just see darkness and maybe some lights every here and there from the lights on in the room. But, I actually saw a picture. It was dim at first and got brighter and brighter and started to zoom in. It looked like a kitchen wall, with a clock and a note next to it. (weird..i know) Before it continued I opened my eyes because it startled me. Then I closed my eyes again nothing happened. -.-

So did I have a Lucid dream??O.o or something close to it. And do you have any idea what was up with the image I saw? Sorry for so much reading. >.<

Hey Snax,

‘Lucid dreaming’ is about remembering and controlling your dreams. It seems you did remembered your dream but you controlled it partially. Good controlling of your dreams is possible and it can be achieved with practice and meditating in a few weeks.

Although there are some techniques to make you better remember of your dreams, the first thing you should do, is get relaxed before you fall a sleep and meditate while repeating the sentence "I will remember my dream".

You can also use the mp3 file that is on this site and find more info:

http://www.i-dose.us/dose/en/9/Lucid+dreams/0/

Good luck !

Chris.

He laid down beside me briefly
we listened to the sounds of morning
I with the wondering ears of desire for life
my mind accepting the truths that had been
pushing me under for oh so many weeks…
My Nurse, (I call her Rose, and she answers…)
has helped me to the tub and I am up – sitting on my own
wearing a summer dress, my hair falling loosely
on my shoulders. Unsure of balance I wait for her to help me
and we slowly leave the bedroom, I look around
Walls look unfamiliar, but comforting; it is time, to come to terms
with myself and the man with whom I have been keeping company.

Seated at a large table; the bag in front of me…
Unsure of its contents and vaguely fearful, I ask for it to be opened
to reveal:
A white sundress is folded neatly, a camera, wallet , worn leather sandals
and a ragged looking notebook, a key chain with 3 keys, and a wedding band.
as the sundress is unfolded blood stains become visible, I inhale deeply
as my shoulders relax gently closing my eyes holding on … to my new found strength
“The wallet, Let me see the wallet”… my hands are clumsy, “please, open it for me….”
The pictures in the wallet look so familiar, but names are still eluding me.
The child, yes that is the child! Oh how I miss her…
This is my driver’s license? That is me? I focus on the name ….Antoinette, my name…
Toni Sparling…
“Burn the dress”
I need to see the pictures on the camera…
Rose is looking at me holding the dress… a question in her eyes
“Burn it!”
Shrugging, she puts the dress back in the bag, trying to hide
her mounting curiosity. Dutifully she takes the bag and some old
newspapers puts them in the burn barrel outside and lights it up.
Smoldering; eventually the smoke dies down, the air clears only ashes remain

I am weak, I believe, in time I will regain my strength if not fully, enough
to get by.
…I could hit erase, delete all the pictures on the camera,
no, I will wait
when Mitch comes home I will ask him to look at them
with me, just the two of us.
I am tired now, I think I will lie down for a bit…
…Lots to think about
lots to remember, and just now I am daydreaming,
about a gal named Toni and a guy named Mitch and hoping
that they are reality .. Not a figment of my narcoleptic imagination…
The notebook remains
In the kitchen
on the table
… unopened, atop it; a wedding band
and 3 keys on a simple key ring.

a normal housefly lands on the keys, momentarily, before taking its place
on the wall
above the clock.
forgot my link back to the previous.. here you go…

http://ca.answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AlyOVVg0EF321m3ulX9TNNYazKIX;_ylv=3?qid=20090502191952AAoGFv7

It actually is not a poem it is prose, and I am grateful you took the time to read it, thank your for your opinion, good night, sleep well.

You have kept my interest up the whole way through.
I can only praise the prose.

———
The kitchen’s unfamiliar with the lights off
Even with the windows open
I can hear the rain fall gently on the sidewalk
As a distant car door closes
There’s a light on somewhere further down the hall
Reflecting off the off-white walls
An alarm clock screaming softly through closed doors
Again announcing no one’s home
Everyone seems to be getting old faster
It’s early, take the kettle off
The clock on the wall is lying and broken
Or else I’ve missed tomorrow
I keep playing the same sad song in my head
Over and over and over
———

I think form should flow from the poem so if an idea for a rhyme pattern didn’t push itself at you as you wrote this then I wouldn’t go looking for it now.

There are some nice lines here that you could ruin by trying to impose form for form’s sake on it. I do think there are some things you might want to think about here. I don’t think the lack of punctuation combined with the old tradition of starting each line with a capitol letter works well for you here. Not knowing where to come to a stop in the reading can change meanings completely. A stop after line one and line three gives a different idea and feeling from stops at the end of two and four. Also, not using any punctuation denies you the option of putting a stop, minor (,) or major (.) in the middle of a line which might sometimes be useful for increasing the impact of an idea. ( You do slip one in in line ten)

The "everyone seems to be getting old faster" seems to fly in from left field with no structure for it to ride. If that’s the main idea you want to convey, then I think you were getting closer poetically with the clock that is lying and broken, the possibility of having missed a day and only need to sharpen up that image to carry the poem.

As always, critique is an opinion. This is mine. You are free to use it, lose it, or give it to Goodwill.

The Darkness, Chapter One
Normal, the least liked word in my vocabulary. Hardly anything about me was normal, and that’s the way I liked it. I liked the way my non normal hair sparkled even when fog blanketed the earth and wiped out the sun. I liked the way people stared at me for my unusual way of dressing. It made me giddy with excitement when guys whistled at me when I walked down the streets and made comments a normal mortal wouldn’t hear. And I loved that I could do anything and make anyone do anything I wanted. Yes, I knew how conceited that sounded and I liked it that way also. The only thing that could sound even more conceited about that was my immense beauty that all witches and wizards possessed. But was I conceited to the point that all I talked and thought about was me. No.
Slowly I climbed out of my extremely warm bed and looked out the window. Rain drizzled down from the heavens and once more the earth was blanketed with fog like most mornings. Jeez, did every single day have to start out dark and dreary in Grand Marias? Apparently, seeing that this made it the seventh day straight with crappy weather starting the morning. Shaking it off, I glanced over to my beeping alarm clock. Amazingly it said that it was almost six in the morning, but I would never set a clock that early. I had no clue why in the world I would set a clock to wake me up at six. Usually I woke up around ten or later without a clock, even on some school days.
School, I shuddered realizing the reason for waking. Today was my first day of non magical school, in other words, mortal high school. How fun. Classes started at different times in my world which also has a time difference than Grand Marias. Normally I would be getting out of my last class in Mizaray, and having to switch schedules was really starting to mess me up.
Looking around my room, the messiness stood out the most. Books and boxes from recently moving were scattered everywhere along with an unknown amount of crinkly brown paper that protected things in the boxes. Wooden furniture laid around the room at odd angles and in weird places. Finding the piece most important to me, an oak desk that always held my wand, I walked over to it. Sleep still clung to my movements, making the grace and finesse in my steps become mulled over as if I consumed a bit too much alcohol. Grabbing the wand I headed downstairs to get ready for school.
As soon as I hopped from the last step to the ground, I ran into the kitchen. The glass wall facing Lake Superior was laced in water ripples from the drizzle. One thing on the window blocked me from seeing the view. A piece of crinkled parchment taped to the window. From where I stood I could already see that it was a note. Walking over to it, the note read:
Emily,
Went to shopping to find new clothing that mortals approve of, and, find Alexa a school to attend. Have fun at your first day of school. The bus will arrive at seven thirty.
-Domi, Dimitri, and Alexandria

Great, I had to ride the bus and face the morning alone. Looking out the glass window once more I tried to calm myself. Small ripples disturbed the bays glass like water. I stared into those ripples, wanting them to wash away this new life I had to act like a good mortal girl in. I wanted the water to cleanse me of the days worry and make everything disappear except for my steady breathing. As usual it worked and I found myself mesmerized by the mortal nature. It deemed so much more soft and lush compared to that of Mizaray. The trees loomed with life and the forest floor was its own life giving utopia. Mizaray’s nature used to be like that once. Now it was altered and burned by the new king. Everything seemed fierce and well, doom like.
Soon I snapped out of the mesmerized state I forced myself into and made myself get ready.
Cool crisp air rushed against my face as I walked out the door. Droplets of dew stuck to me as tree branches hit me with their leaves. I felt at home in these woods, like they were a protected cocoon around me that I could be myself within. I let myself be one with nature as I looked down the daunting mile and a half driveway. I could see naught but forrest and sand from Domi would take away my wand and spell books. Those were my two most prized possessions in this world besides my broom, the Lightning Strike 700.

I think that your story is intriguing and that you write well for your age. You’ve used some terms/words incorrectly, however; for instance, where you write …my steps become mulled over… to mull over means to think about; also, your use of the word deemed is incorrect; deem means to make a judgment. There are indeed some errors in grammar and punctuation, but proofreading may be the key to eliminating those; one I feel obligated to mention is your use of the verb laid; you may not understand that the past tense of lie is lay, not laid. I hope that you won’t think that I am being overly critical, but you asked for a critique of your story’s content. In that regard, I would appreciate your being more explanatory of the plot’s background. I have no clue as to who Domi, Dmitri, and Alexandra are or why suddenly you (the protagonist) are living in Grand Marias on the shores of Lake Superior, where or what Mizaray was/is. To hold my interest, I would want you to make the situation clearer. If you aspire to write for publication, a literary agent or publishing company will not be persuaded to represent or purchase your manuscript because you are only thirteen years old — they aren’t charitable; you must write an original, compelling novel if you hope to see it published, regardless your age! To reiterate, though, you do have definite potential as a writer. What you’ve written thus far is a rough draft; much altering and rewriting will be required in order to produce a professional manuscript, but you surely have the time to do so! Good luck! (I’ve written two novels so am aware of tedious task that making corrections can be — a "necessary evil", nonetheless!)

I think the show started about 8:00pm, and one particular evening
I was kind of impaitent and wanted the time to hurry up as there was still 20 mintues to go.

You know how 20 minutes can seem like two hours to a kid?
I somehow got it in my head that if I put the clock forward time would speed up and my show would start sooner.

So I dragged a kitchen chair over so I could reach the clock on the wall, and turned the knob on the back of the clock so the hands turned to 8:00.

Back then I remember thinking "Haha I’m so smart. This should work"
Of course it didn’t and I was rather annoyed, and the next 20 minutes seemed to drag by.

That memory sometimes pops up, plus I still remember what show it was and the guy’s name:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterflies_(TV_series)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicholas_Lyndhurst

Anyone else done anything as dumb as that?

When I was 4 my dad gave me a dollar. I tore it in half and thought that I doubled my money. I thought I was super smart too. lol