This story will not be updated. Why, you may ask? Simply put, I have matured infinitely as a writer. I began writing this at the age of eleven, posting it when I was around thirteen. I am now sixteen, and seeing as my writing style and usage of words has changed drastically, continuing this story would be pointless.
To all of you who mindlessly flamed my story, I would like to thank you. You told a seventh grader that she is talent-less and incapable of writing decent literature. As I am now working on a novel and already have more than twenty original poems published, I disregard all you said, and take your petty comments as an inability to think of sensible originalities.
I do not feel the need to here point out how many actual, literary characters are "Mar-Sue-ish," as it has been put, but would instead advise the readers of this piece to find their souls. There is no need to be ruthlessly mean when a writer tried to stick to the actual author's original purpose and direction. And, if you are a college student pathetically wandering the halls of just to provoke and upset preteens, I feel shame for you, an hope you grow into the mature adult you seem to believe yourself to be.
Thank you for your time, and as always, I am appreciative of your reviews.