I did that vocab thing, and mine was the sticker with the words elementary school appearing across the box of smartness. And Erica of course had those very encouraging words, hope your understanding my blog. Anyway, I'm going to see if I can slightly cheat and some posts with big words, then re-take the test. (Knowing how I do things I'll get kindergarten.) Oh, here's a part of a story I'm writing.

It is always said that in a land far far away and a time long forgotten things of untold splendor appeared and unfolded in the every day life of every everyday person. In fact, if I so wanted to my story could start out the same, even though we appear on a few maps said to be complete balderdash and do have a whole library on our country's history, even if it is only a converted shed. I can still remember the time in our life when the royal library in it's gleaming white and gold splendor, stretched high above the castle's towers. I can still yet hear the voices of the singing minstrels, thrumming their instruments and dancing gigs to make the children cry out with joy and clap their hands. Yet know the library is only dust and ruble, something to add to a piece of jewelry to sell and refill the royal treasuries. And the streets are barren of soul and joyful noise. Much has been lost in our country and much must be rebuilt. But we are strong and hearty folks, people who do not shies from the strain of the plow or the raw hands of a day in the field. Yet we shied from the unveiling of a hidden, yet known evil, for we enjoyed our entertainment and our amusements-we would pay whatever to keep it. This is the tale of blind eyes and un-hearing ears, the tale of the fall of great city .

The river that provided the water for the fields and the liquid of are life was running dry, leaving the well worn path it created desolate and without moisture. In the land that is ours the river does not journey as people in other countries believe the river does. Our river is wild and free, stretching it's fingers down to those who need it. It is a roaring beast in times of judgment, yet a gentle brook on a summer day when the thirsty throat cries.Yet voices in our head rang with the whispers of fear and thirst. " Where is the water so needed? Was it not promised to us? Are not our throats dry and our wells empty? Where is are life-giver?" Then other voices not of our own, yet cleverly hidden in our thoughts, would respond, "The river has abandon you. The ancient elders have lied. The river was never dependable, never true to what it is. Who has ever heard of our river? Something wild and free, almost as if it had a mind of it's own. " The voices would taunt you when your tongue would become dry and swollen with lack of moisture, the voices would laugh in your ear saying they were right and had always been, then feel as the wind gave speed to the retreating thoughts. We were in desperate need and needed an answer. Then one came.
It came not as many would have preferred. An instruction manual telling the rules of the water, of how to access it, and how to let the river beds dry as a desert stone when needed. Many would have excepted a letter from someone with a high name to tell us what was needed. And yet the way we would have chosen was not how it was to be. The answer was loud and bright, bringing delicacies long gone or unheard of and new. The answer came to us from the mouth of Detriment A. Snolberias. He was a courtier clothed in bright and loose flowing clothes that would promised the world to us. We would have the respect of those outside of our country, riches enough to start a universal bank. We would be beautiful, we would be wanted, ... we would be powerful.
The elders of present were at first resistant and wary. Detriment was met with resistance and passion filled hearts. Yet as tankards went empty and the mouth cried for that not in reach there was a compromise. Spend a night with Detriment and if it did not interest you, he would leave. The elders foolishly excepted the offer, with full blessing of the people. Even I raised my voice to be heard when the vote was called, and I did not stir so much as a mouse hiding from its predator when those who wanted to say nay were called. In fact, the silence was whole withstanding and complete. Maybe one of discernment was silenced or shushed by a neighbor. Maybe the crier had whispered at their doors, but there was not a nay nor a sound and we were in one.
On the afternoon after the night, the elders met and decided to accept his offer. We would give up part of our treasury to a certain point on the walls of the treasury room. If at any time in the future our treasury filled past that point it would belong to Detriment. We would allow a certain amount of people from his city to become citizens of our country, adding culture to ours.The list would continue on for some hours, adding something that we hadn't had before add itself to our culture, attaching itself like a leech sucking blood from the living who had blood flowing through their veins. A voice that I knew from the dreams of the night stirred in my soul, but was quickly drowned out as the crowd cheered. And why not? We had been promised water and entertainment not like ours, new people and new ways, popularity and acceptance. Everything our hearts had been crying for, everything we deserved for having put our faith in something that had betrayed us, let us down. And with the voices that had retreated now echoing those thoughts, my hands and voice swelled with the excitement and did as the colorful courtier's servants did.

I stood in the hallway of the elders' meeting place, listening to the words flowing from the mouth of Detriment. His words were as sweat as ever and as full of promise. Some of the elders had a placid smile on their faces, soaking in whatever his tongue could weave in their ears. Others had a more wary face on, yet soaking up whatever his words gave to their thirsting tongues. Yet the one I was watching, the one who needed to agree on what was said had a neutral face on. And that worried me.

to be continued...