True Heroes:

Adelaine of Ellum and Rod of Adamore

Prologue

Tucked into a corner of the small town of Ellum, was a dark alleyway and in this dark alleyway sat a girl. She couldn’t have been more than nine years old, and yet she was alone and huddled around the remnants of a long forgotten fire, that must have been started by one of the homeless who lived amongst the streets of Ellum.

Rod had been watching her all day. When he had seen her in the morning, he had begun to follow her for lack of anything else to do. It had not been until late in the afternoon that he realized how long he had been watching the young girl. That had been only minutes after she had entered the alley and sat next to the fire. Rod realized that neither he nor the girl had had anything to eat the whole day.

The girl had not been particularly interesting to watch, but there had been something about her that had attracted him to her. She had seemed strong, and acted as though she needed no one to survive, despite the terrible conditions she lived in. She did not seem to have a home, but wandered the streets gathering scraps of food or clothing she found, but never stealing. Rod, a boy known throughout the streets of Ellum as a thief, found this very strange.

A boy was looking up at Rod from the streets down below, and Rod remembered that he was sitting on a roof in clear view of anyone below. He began to crawl away, but then the boy down below jumped onto a windowsill and hauled himself to the roof.

“Rod,” the boy said in greeting.

Rod looked at the boy, whose face he could now see clearly.

“Fray,” he said, acknowledging the boy.

“Where have you been all day?” Fray asked, sitting down next to Rod, “You’ve missed all the day’s raids. You will have nothing to eat tonight, my friend.”

Fray was fourteen, and the oldest in their band of thieves. He was the leader, and had treated Rod as though he was second in command, even though Rod preferred to go unnoticed in the group. Rod was twelve, but sometimes felt that he was the wisest of the boys that he spent his time with.

“I have been taking time off,” Rod gave as a simple answer.

“Well,” Fray said, “Whatever you’ve been doing, it’s time to go. We’ve got to get back to Adamore.”

“Adamore is an hours ride away with horses, which we haven’t got, and the sky is already darkening,” Rod said, “If we leave now, it will have become dark before we’ve even left Ellum.”

“What, Rod?” Fray said jokingly, “Scared of the dark?”

“No, Fray,” Rod said calmly, “I am scared of the things in the dark.”

“Rod, my friend!” Fray said, laughing loudly, “We are the things in the dark that others fear! Come now, we must be off.” He stood up, ready to leave the rooftops of Ellum.

“I can not,” Rod said.

“And why not?” Fray asked, his tone become angrier as the conversation went on.

“I have,” Rod paused for a moment, “Other business.”

“What is this?” Fray asked, “Hesitation from my friend whose words come so easily? What is this ‘other business’?”

“None of your concern,” Rod said, but he had glanced at the girl down below without thinking.

Fray followed his eyes and saw the girl. He grinned wickedly. “Ah,” he whispered, “Has Rod found himself a prize? Is this what he has given up the day for? A dinner lost, but a pleasure won?”

“No,” Rod said through gritted teeth, jumping to his feet, “Nothing of that sort.”

“Oh really?” Fray challenged, “Then you won’t mind if I take her for myself?” He slid backwards of the woof, his feet hitting the shingles, and tumbled onto the dirt below.

“No! Fray!” Rod said desperately, losing his calm demeanor.

Fray stood up and brushed the dirt of his clothes. He turned and strode down the alley, toward the girl.

Rod leapt from the building, landing on his feet on the road below, much more graceful than Fray’s fall.

He swiftly followed Fray into the alley where the older boy had bent down to speak to the girl.

“Hello, there,” he said, “And what is a pretty young lady like yourself doing all alone so near to night?”

Rod stood behind Fray as the girl turned her head toward them. Fray jumped as he saw what Rod had already learned.

The girl was blind.

But Fray did not stop his talk, but reached forward and stroked the girl’s cheek. The girl jerked away, but there was no where for her to go.

“Fray,” Rod said sharply.

“And what is your name, m’lady?” Fray continued as though he had not heard his friend speak.

The girl did not turn toward him, but answered. “Adelaine,” she said, not concealing the suspicion in her voice.

“Adelaine,” Fray repeated, as though he had never heard a name so sweet, “And if I might inquire why you are here, Adelaine?”

“I have no home,” Adelaine said.

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear Adelaine,” Fray runs his hand down her arm and it’s too much for Rod.

“Stop!” Rod shoves his friend to the ground and stares down at him. Fray snarled and was about to say something, when someone else appeared at the mouth of the alley.

“What is this?” the woman says.

Fray gapes at her, his eyes full of terror, and even Rod takes a step back. Finally, Fray finds his words.

“’Tis the witch!” he exclaims, and Rod remembers that Fray’s greatest fear is magic.

“If that is the title you wish to bestow upon me,” the woman says, “Then yes, I am a witch.”

Fray glances around nervously, looking for an escape, but the alley ends in a high brick wall and the woman blocks the only exit.

The woman walks forward and looks down at Fray. “I would suggest you run, boy,” she says, “For if you touch Addie again, I will be forced to lay a curse on you.”

Fray stumbles to his feet and takes off down the alley. The woman turns to Rod, who is frozen with fear, but still tries to look brave and strong.

“And you, boy,” the woman says, “You no longer have business here. Leave.”

Rod does not need to be told twice. He runs out of the alley and after Fray.

He does not look back, but later wishes he had.

"As some of you may have heard, my partial draft of Midnight Sun was illegally posted on the Internet and has since been virally distributed without my knowledge or permission or the knowledge or permission of my publisher."

Who has heard about this?  Please, if you no anyone who does, tell me!  I hadn't heard about this.  When was this leak?  Yesterday?
And then she says that she gave out copies of the unfinished book.  Why would you do that?  You've got to know there is the possibility that it's going to be leaked.  It's only one of the most anticipated books at the moment.

She says: "I did not want my readers to experience Midnight Sun before it was completed, edited and published."
So why are you canceling it and putting the unedited, unpublished version on your website?

"So where does this leave Midnight Sun? My first feeling was that there was no way to continue."
How is there no way to continue?  It's easy!  You write the book, you give it to the publisher and everyone's happy!!!!  She even said that the copy leaked is unedited and all the copies she gave out are different!!!!

"If I tried to write Midnight Sun now, in my current frame of mind, James would probably win and all the Cullens would die, which wouldn't dovetail too well with the original story."
I actually think that would be a very interesting story and I wouldn't mind if she wrote it that way.

"But how do I comment on this violation without driving more people to look for the illegal posting?"
Then you don't comment.  You completely ignore it.  Because the moment she said there was an illegal posting, I was looking for it.  I don't care if it's on her website, I still want to find out where it is.
Of course, I didn't.  You type in Midnight Sun on google and two things come up related to the book: Stephenie Meyer.com and the Wikipedia page.

"I do want to take a moment and thank the wonderful fans who have been so supportive of me over the past three years."
We're still supportive, but we ain't happy.

And now my final thoughts.  Only the first twelve chapters have been leaked, and think about it!  It's not like we're getting any spoilers!  We've read Twilight, we know what happens!  I was more excited about Midnight Sun than Breaking Dawn.  And I bet you Midnight Sun would be better.

Personally, I hate Stephenie Meyer.  I am no fan of her.

It’s strange to think that only six months before I hadn’t known about any of this, that only six months before, aliens didn’t exist to me.  And six months after July 14, crawling way from death itself, those past six months flew through my brain in images: a slideshow behind my eyes.  The first thing I saw was a bright summer day.  There was grass leading straight up to a wooden border that separated it from the beach.  A little girl is going down a big yellow slide and the swing next to her is still in mid-swing, but void of a person.  I couldn’t feel it, but I remember that it was hot.  My hair had been damp with sweat and stuck to my neck.  I had taken off my shoes and set them on the grass next to me so my feet could cool off.  It was a good contrast to the present, which was freezing cold and so covered with snow you couldn’t see a speck of green.  The only thing that remained the same was me.

In the memory I was sitting within the shadow of the only tree in sight.  My hair hung in a curtain around my face and my clothes were all black.  It was no wonder I was hot, because I was wearing long pants and a long sleeved shirt.  The only color in my outfit was the red fingerless gloves.  As I mentioned before, my feet were bare.

This was the last memory I had before everything was set into motion.  I would say the last normal memory, but that’s a lie.  The last normal memory I had was from only a few hours before, when I was still worried about geometry.

I processed all this in a matter of seconds, and then more memories flashed by, none quite as clear as the first.

Except for the final image, which seemed to last longer than the others.

It was of a person who I had thought I would never see again.

So I sat there, in the cold, crying silently, and as the green light engulfed me, and a sharp pain shot through my brain, I thought about Johnathon White.

So here is the first chapter of said story:

Sweet.

When you have a nickname like that, you can’t help but be angry, right?  Well, that’s what I tell my parents.

I’m Samantha Swinton, also known as Sweet, Sammy Sweet, Sweet Sam, Sweet Swinton, but usually it’s just Sweet.

My dad owns the candy shop near the park, which is near the beach.  It sort of goes something like this: buildings, street, grass, sand, except wood logs separate the street from the grass and the grass from the sand.  I live above the candy shop, Swinton Sweets, with my mom and dad.

You’re still wondering about the anger comment, though.  Well, ‘Sweet’ doesn’t suit me and that’s why I’m called it.  If your favorite color was pink and you were called ‘Goth’ then you would get angry.  I’m the exact opposite of that, though.  My favorite color happens to be black.  And I would say that that is the opposite end of the spectrum from pink, but technically that’s white.  Pink and black are at the opposite ends of the social spectrum I suppose.

I woke up on the morning of July fourteenth in a bad mood.  It was sunny outside and that meant it wood be extremely hot.  That also means I’m almost always in a bad mood, because I live in Florida, of course.  I put on a long sleeved black shirt and long black, baggy pants.  I slipped on red fingerless gloves and the necklace I wore everyday, but kept tucked under my shirt.  I slid on a black ski cap over my hair.  By the time I had walked across the street and sat in the shade beneath the large tree, my hair was already wet with sweat.  I slid my shoes off and dropped them beside me, next to my messenger bag.  I pulled Twilight by Stephenie Meyer out and leaned over it.  My straight hair hung around me in a thick curtain.  I tried to ignore the heat as I read, because there was no where else for me to read in peace.

At my house it was always loud, because just beneath my room was the entrance to the candy shop and I could constantly hear the bell ring as someone entered or voices as people ordered their candy.

There was a playground at the park, just at the border before the beach.  It was made up of a yellow slide and two yellow swings.  On the beach was a bench and an old gray haired man was sitting on the edge of it, staring out at the sea.  A little girl was going up and down the slide, being watched carefully by her mother.  A blond boy was darting all around with his light colored dog.

I remember the groan of the playground swing as someone jumped off in mid-air and then the strong smell of peppermint as a dark shadow fell across the page.  I looked up.

“My dog seems to like your shoes,” the blond boy said.  I glanced around and saw that his dog had its nose stuck in my left shoe.

“That’s fine,” I muttered, “Don’t really like those shoes.”

The boy suddenly dropped down next to me and leaned forward so he was looking directly down upon my book.

“What are you reading?” he asked curiously.

“Twilight,” I leaned as far away from him as I could.

“Cool,” he jolted back into an upright position, “I think I’ll be reading that soon.”

“Good for you,” I nodded, unsure of what this boy wanted.

“Do you believe in aliens?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” I stood up, giving up on reading in peace and marched toward the street.

“Hey,” the boy called behind me, “Wait!”

“So you can tell me about aliens?” I accused.

“Aliens are awesome,” he caught up to me at the edge of the street and grabbed my arm, “You’ve never met an alien, so I wouldn’t expect you to know.”

“You’ve met an alien?” I asked skeptically.

“’Course I have,” he said.  “That’s how I found Speckles here,” he patted his dog on the head, “He was playing with some alien friends of mine.”

“Aliens aren’t real,” I rolled my eyes and stepped out in the street.  He suddenly jerked me back into the grass as a car sped past.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he muttered.

I ignored him and stomped across the street to the candy shop and my house.

“Hold on!” he said in awe behind me, “You’re Samantha Swinton?  Awesome!  I love your candy shop!  It’s so cool!  Can I come in?”

“It’s closed,” I pointed to the sign on the door, “My parents are still asleep.”

“You shouldn’t be wondering around on your own when your parents don’t know where you are,” he said.

I looked at him and raised one eyebrow.  He just stood there for a moment then seemed to realize what I meant.

“But I always go out by myself,” he said defensively, “And I’m not a girl.  It’s way more dangerous for girls.”

“It’s just as dangerous for you,” I said, “I could be dangerous.  You shouldn’t talk to strangers, you know.”

“How dangerous could you be?” he asked.

“I know how to tear someone’s ear off,” I said.

He automatically put his hand to his ear.

“That’s easy,” he said.

“Leave me alone,” I opened the shop door, stepped inside, and then closed the door behind me.

“Hold on!” he opened the door before I could lock it, “What grade are you going in to?”

“Ninth,” I said through gritted teeth.  Who does this kid think he is?

“Me, too!” he said excitedly, “We’ll be going to the same school!”

“Great,” I said sarcastically, “Get out, please.”

“Wait!  I haven’t introduced myself!” he held out his hand, “I’m Johnathon White and this is my dog, Speckles.”

I looked around him at the dog that had followed us all the way here.

“Great,” I said again, “No dogs aloud, so leave.”

He grinned and left the shop.

Little did I know, that was not the last weird encounter I would have with the alienboy.

I was lying on the cold stone floor, surrounded by twenty-two Hunters with hungry eyes; eight Wanderers; and one Protector, who was my only friend.  That made thirty-one people staring at me, the first Changer to be born in 300 years.

The fact that the majority of the people in the room were Hunters was not good.  They would do whatever they could to get to the key hanging around my neck.  They would kill me, they would kill each other.  Each of them wants the same thing and none of them are friends.  No one in this miserable world was friends, unless they were a Protector, and even then, it was just to stay alive.  Everything you did in this world was to stay alive.

And I was a whole new thing to this world.  A prize.  A Changer meant that life in our world was changing also.  I wouldn’t be the last, they knew that.  More Changers would follow and I would be their leader.  That’s how it was written when the last battle of the Changers had ended and the battle of the Hunters had begun.  I was destined to bring the end of the Hunters, Wanderers, and the Protectors.  I was destined to start a better world.  That’s the way of life.

The only problem is, that’s not my way of life.  I’m supposed to lead the most powerful people in the largest battle to ever be fought, but I don’t want to.

I’m supposed to be all three.  I’m supposed to be just like a Hunter, Wanderer, and Protector, but I’m not.  Sure, I have a key like a Protector and I protect it honorably.  But I prefer not to lie, betray, and steal like Hunters and Wanderers.

My name is Lissabeth, and this is how my destiny was fulfilled.

Story number 2:

It’s strange to think that only six months before I hadn’t known about any of this, that only six months before, aliens didn’t exist to me.  And six months after July 14, crawling way from death itself, those past six months flew through my brain in images: a slideshow behind my eyes.  The first thing I saw was a bright summer day.  There was grass leading straight up to a wooden border that separated it from the beach.  A little girl is going down a big yellow slide and the swing next to her is still in mid-swing, but void of a person.  I couldn’t feel it, but I remember that it was hot.  My hair had been damp with sweat and stuck to my neck.  I had taken off my shoes and set them on the grass next to me so my feet could cool off.  It was a good contrast to the present, which was freezing cold and so covered with snow you couldn’t see a speck of green.  The only thing that remained the same was me.

In the memory I was sitting within the shadow of the only tree in sight.  My hair hung in a curtain around my face and my clothes were all black.  It was no wonder I was hot, because I was wearing long pants and a long sleeved shirt.  The only color in my outfit was the red fingerless gloves.  As I mentioned before, my feet were bare.

This was the last memory I had before everything was set into motion.  I would say the last normal memory, but that’s a lie.  The last normal memory I had was from only a few hours before, when I was still worried about geometry.

I processed all this in a matter of seconds, and then more memories flashed by, none quite as clear as the first.

Except for the final image, which seemed to last longer than the others.

It was of a person who I had thought I would never see again.

So I sat there, in the cold, crying silently, and as the green light engulfed me, and a sharp pain shot through my brain, I thought about Johnathon White.

 Hey, I'm back.  Didn't I tell you I would be?  No need to answer that, I'll do it myself: Yes!
So, time for information:
My name is Shannie and this is my new blog.  You knew that, though.  Or at least, some of you did...maybe.  I'm obsessed with Harry Potter.  I love Twilight.  I'm going to the Breaking Dawn midnight release party, actually.
Speaking of books...
My book is called Lily's Tree.  I will post little snipits and possibly whole chapters one here.  I already have a blog that I post full chapters on.
I just realized that my little transition up there was bad.  Ah, well.

Part of chaper one, pasted from Word:

Chapter one
Beginning

Katrina Evans used to have a relatively normal life.  She lived with her two adopted parents on Earth and attended school in the Cloud Lands.  She was born on the 31st day of October.  She was a very beautiful fairy baby.  Her wings were a fiery red that shimmered in the sunlight.  Her hair color perfectly matched the color of her wings and she had green eyes.

Katrina Evans was indeed adopted.  Now, you probably think that you're going to read a beautiful sob story about how her parents died a tragic death and Katrina was a small child left alone at an orphanage for years until two good-hearted people adopted this precious child and loved her as their own.  Alas, you're wrong.  Katrina's parents did not die, they gave Katrina up.  You see, they were poor and could not pay for a child.  They did leave her alone at an orphanage, but she was adopted quite soon by Angela and Mark Evans.

Katrina Evans has two best friends: Sarah-anne Anderson and Jacob Mettis.

When first seen, you might think of Sarah-anne as a dumb, rich, spoiled-rotten, blond.  Although she is rich, she is not dumb.  She's the “geek” of her school, but a pretty one at that.  She first met Katrina at a bookstore.

“Hello,” seven-year old Katrina said, “I’m Katrina.  Do you like that book?”

She pointed at the book in Sarah-anne’s hands.

“Yes,” Sarah-anne said, “It’s very good.”

And that was how it all began.  Sarah-anne doesn't know that her best friend is a fairy living in the human world, though.  And neither does Jacob Mettis, who Sarah-anne has known since kindergarten.  It went something like this:

“Hey,” Jacob said at lunch one day, “Give me your cookie!”

“No!” Sarah-anne threw a potato chip at him.  Jacob cried to the teacher.

Don't get the wrong idea about Jacob from that.  He's actually quite a tough boy.  He's plays baseball and is very good at Gym.  He's smart, too.  Years of studying with a friend like Sarah-anne have certainly helped him.  Although Jacob is known for sports, he really loves filmmaking.  Sarah-anne and Katrina star in all of his movies, which are mostly action.