Chatterbox: Inkwell

Orangelemon: Hey guys! Quill and I have actually been writing this story for quite awhile, and we were wondering if y'all could give us some constructive critisim/feedback on the first 2 chapters. The first chapter is mine, told from the point of Amara.

Quill: Hi! So, Orange and I have been writing this book, basically about two girls who go to a riding camp in the Swiss Alps and end up stranded in the mountains. It's been a lot of fun to write, so we wanted to share it with you guys. We were hoping to get some feedback on the first two chapters, which we included in this post. The second chapter, told from Elenna's point of view, is mine. Thanks, guys! You rock.

All that day, I was packing. Packing.  Packing!!!!!!!! I really didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place, but my mom said it was a good, different experience for us.  I looked in the mirror; who could imagine? Me. Riding A HORSE, after all these years???? My hair tied perfectly back into a dutch braid, my Hollister pale blue plaid shirt, with a beige vest overtop, blue jeans, and $100 pair of “worn’ brown leather boots said enough about the amount of time I spend out doors.

I looked at my 3 suitcases, each from another country. One from Paris, one from Italy, and one from Brazil.  All of them were neatly packed, and I was ready to go. I hurried down the stairs, and before I hopped into the  limo I shouted, “Mom!” “Let’s go!”

“Coming Amara,” she said, slightly exasperated.

We climbed into the limo, and I watched out the window until we got to the LA airport.  We walked in, went through security, blah, blah. The usual.  I walked around the shopping area of the airport for a while, then we went to “Se Hai Trovato Questo Buon Lavoro” One of the most high-end restaurants in LA.  I was a usual there. I ordered panzanella, one of my favorite dishes.

At 6:00 am, I boarded my first class seats for the first 4 hour flight.  On the plane, my mom and I watched “Meet me in St. Louis” starring Judy Garland.  I got a strawberry cheesecake and a caesar salad during the flight, mediocre, but it filled me up.  When we finally got to Tennessee, the worst thing imaginable happened.

Chapter Two

Elenna

I stroked the side of my new suitcase. It was purple with golden pineapples on it. We’d gotten it especially for this trip. I packed everything I would need for a horse camp- riding boots, a riding helmet, all that jazz. I pulled back my dark brown hair with streaks of gold and sighed. I knew I shouldn’t be packing the night before, but what can I say? I’m the queen of procrastination. I leaned over to the foot of my bed and made one of my stuffed ponies bow to me.

“All hail Queen Elenna!” I said in a squeaky voice. I’ve always loved horses, and I’ve been riding at my grandfather’s ranch since I was three. I haven’t been riding since my parents split up, so this would be the first time in over a year. Deciding something, I slipped off my bed and pulled on tall socks. I crept out of my room, not bothering to conceal the squeak of my door’s creaky hinges. My mom had so much on her mind these days that she slept like a log whenever she got the chance. I ran down the stairs, sliding down the last couple feet on the railing, and pulled on my mud boots. I’d be wearing them to the airport tomorrow, so I didn’t need to pack them. I stepped outside, smelling the scent that belonged solely to my town: Oakdale, Tennessee, population 208. I inhaled slowly- wood smoke, pine sap, and mud. Beautiful. I ran down our dirt driveway and turned onto a deer trail that was half concealed behind a tree branch. I go down this path all the time, sliding down the steep parts, sidestepping tree roots without even looking. I finally reached my creek, and climbed down the small cliff to the water’s edge. I splashed around for a bit, not caring that my plaid shirt and jeans were getting wet, then ran through the fast flowing water a little ways upstream. If I walked a little farther… yes, there it was. I had to wade through some deeper water to get there, but on a large pile of boulders and mud, what my dad used to jokingly call ‘Elenna's Island’ because I played on it so much, stood the ruins of an old windmill. It was crumbling, but sturdy enough to sit on. When I was little, I would pretend I was an archeologist and dust the bricks one by one with a paintbrush, or that I was a magical princess trying to save my castle. I sat there and watched the stars for what seemed like hours… which was a really bad idea, seeing that I was leaving for Switzerland the following day.