Hi friends... I'm not dead. Surprisingly, since I decided it would be a great idea to take the hardest classes I could this year, and add on more dance classes and orchestra and clubs and AH
Sorry for being the most inactive author EVER
(Hahaha Ever get it? Never mind)
(Oh god I did it again help)
Ok, this was posted on Soman's site, it is mine, (I'm ainsleyofrainbowgale on there WOOT) I just wanted to post it here. :) Hope you enjoy it!
November 11.
The most dreaded day for every "different" child in Gavaldon.
After the Storybook Theory had been undoubtedly proven, all children on this day acted exactly the opposite of the way they would- the beautiful, kind-heard kicked at stray cats and swore like sailors. The homely, wicked children covered their faces with heavy veils, bribes clutched in sweaty, white-knuckled hands as they prayed in the town church.
The blessedly ordinary went about their daily lives; reading storybooks, conversing last year's last children, looking for more similarities, and picking out the children who they thought would be taken. It was almost a unanimous decision.
Almost.
The Evil child was almost definitely going to be Tommy, a black haired 14 year old boy whose hair matched his heart.
The Good child, however, was between two children, both boys. Trevor, 15 years old with hair the color of gold and warm blue eyes that resembled King Arthur's Lake, was a dashing young boy, but a little on the vain side. Alexander, however, was a quiet, petite 13 year old with longer, caramel colored hair and soft brown eyes. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was the sweetest boy anyone knew.
The votes were mostly for Trevor, with a few here and there defending young Alexander.
One person, however, voted for Ainsley.
No one knew who she was.
Ainsley was a tall, slender 14 year old who never talked. She hardly left her house. She was beautiful, of course, but she had horrible people skills, and spent all her time reading. Her skin was the color of snow from being inside all the time, but it was spotless, clear of any blemishes and free from wrinkles.
This one vote was tossed aside as foolishness, and the normal teenage girls bashed over Trevor once more.
That night, Ainsley's father, Benjamin, tucked her safely into bed and made sure to lock the windows. Twice. He was sure the School Master would try to take his daughter, who was sweet enough to make him homemade meals every day and bring them to his butcher's shop that adjoined their little house. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't lose the one person he had left; Roxanne, his wife, his beautiful, beautiful wife, had died in childbirth. With the only town doctor a suspected witch, medicine was scarcely found.
All he had left was his daughter.
He gave her a kiss on her forehead and shut the door quietly; Ainsley was already sound asleep.
As soon as he clicked the door shut, he heard faint scratches. Very faint, but still there. Benjamin whipped around, and a club smashed into his head. He fell like a bag of stones, completely unconscious.
The School Master silently unlocked Ainsley's bedroom door, and looked at the sleeping angel. He grabbed her under the knees and shoulders, and carried her like she weighed nothing. With a quick spell, he made sure that she wouldn't be awoken until she arrived at her destination. He stepped outside the house, picked up the sleeping Tommy, and ran off towards the School, where Tommy and Ainsley's lives were just beginning.