Hi I know you all have your Fiction Press Accounts but I prefer blogdrive because it's much simpler to use. So, as of now http://.coolkitten.blogdrive.com is my short story site. Feel free to point out any spelling or gramatical errors but keep in mind: it's a working progress. I am not going to give out my name for privacy reasons but for those who know, please don't tell. I hope you enjoy my short stories. Thanks

-Cool Kitten

I am not a land bird but I wish I could fly. My wings are wounded and I am needed elsewhere. I am chained down and cannot leave something is holding me back.

Help me to fly to where I am needed.

Help me to fly in time before many are killed and devoured by the eagle.

Help me to fly and help the innocent escape a fate so horendous only a bird of prey could think of.

Help me to fly to a land where great lion teaches courage.

Help me to fly to the murderer and show him the error of his ways so that they may choose to change on their own accored.

Help me to fly to openess so that I may show my true self.

Help me to show others that revenge is not the way.

Help me to fly into their hearts so I can reach them at their level.

Help me fly high enough so that others may see me, gain courage and fly with me.

All I want to do is fly.

   Ok, everyone the story does start off a little heavy, predictable and dark but don't be concerned it gets much more intense(in a happy way), emotional and lighter mood. It is not as predictable as you may think. It is not as predictable as it seems.

Please post as many comments as you please and those of you who know who I am would do me a favour and call me by my blog name: cool kitten. Thank you a bunch.

    It was an ordinary day and ordinary school with ordinary teachers and students, with the exception of one extraordinary girl. The usual: She was sent to the principal's office for the eighth time this week.
   "Ah, you again." He had prepared for the worse as she walked in. He somehow had appeared to be calm and firm despite the brewing of the growing fear that at any moment she might become enraged and attack him.  
   "What, Mr. Hanningfeld? You sound disappointed." She posed her pout to go along with this sarcastic comment.
   "So, why are you here?" He stared right into her eyes trying to be strong but the fire in hers forced him to turn away.
   "Why don't you ask the bonehead who's wasting her time dragging me here?" She had gotten away with many things worse than this before because the principal, through her eyes, was a wimp.
   "What did she do this time Ms. Quell?" Mr. Haningfeld asked the silent but sturdy woman standing behind the girl as she drooped farther into her chair. He had chosen not to address the name-calling right now.
   "Yes, what did I do, Bonehead?" The girl had now gotten up out of her chair and right in the woman's face. The woman glared at her with infinite distaste then turned to the principal sitting at his desk waiting for her response.
   "She drowned the Fourth Grade's class pet 'Chirpster the Buggy' in the west school fountain." She was not half as weak as Mr. Hanningfeld.
   "Hey, he wouldn't be quiet. It was annoying me. He wasn't that great anyway." She shrugged as she fell back into her reserved chair at the office. It had carving in the wooden handles which she had done with her nails. On one there were countless tallies and the other names of teachers who brought her to the office.
   "Look, I don't know where you get all this hate inside of you. Are there problems at home?" Mr. Hanningfeld leaned and said this with the calm and concerned tone that he had tried on endless occasions.
   "No, there's  no problems at home otherwise I would be doing all this bad things there!" She stood up and yelled at him. 
   "Aha! So, she admits they're bad!" Ms. Quell shouted proudly as the girl rolled her eyes.
   "Look I'm not going to sit here just put me down for some detentions and some community service. I'm out." She began to make her way towards the door but she was beaten to it by Ms. Quell.
   "I don't think so." Mr. Hanningfeld and Ms. Quell were both smiling mischievous smiles in her direction. This was the first time she ever felt uneasy around adults. "Well we talked to your parents, after the toilette paper incident, remember? They said the next time you behave poorly they would sign those papers." Ms. Quell pointed towards Mr. Hanningfeld who was swaying a few pieces of papers back and forth. Her heart caught in her throat. She could feel it beating throughout her whole body. It's not like she didn't expect it to happen. She HAD behaved poorly but she hadn't expected it to happen now. She knew the letterhead. It had been used as a threat many times before; the difference was now it was signed.

    The flyer had a large picture of a panda. This panda looked ill. skinny, thin and the sparkle in the eye was gone. It's paws were scratched, dirty and bloody. This picture made her think, That is not right and even I know that. It had intreged her to read the small few paragraphs below. She didn't want others to see her so she swept on the spot looking completely ridiculous. She was too busy reading to realize how lame this technique was.
   It talked about how strongly reliant the pandas were on the bamboo plant in China. The bamboo was running out because it was being consumed so quickly. The pandas were so adapted and dependant on this food that they would not change what they ate to save their lives. The Wildlife Foundation of China (W.F.C.) said that there were three options:either do nothing and let the animals die, keep the quantity of bamboo high, or slowly introduce other abundant foods the pandas. They felt the healthiest thing that we can do for the pandas is introduce new foods but not confrotationally or directly. We would have to be very settle.
    She didn't know why she related to the panda in the photo. Maybe, she felt like him: Disappointed in mherself for having dug her own grave and sticking with what she knew whether it was right for her or not. She realized that playing it safe has caused her more danger. All she knew was inacceptable behaviour. She had too much pride to step down from Sergaent Nelson's challenge, but rather use it to her advantage. She could freak the Sergaent out by acting good right away. She had a better plan though. She figured that if she gradually grew better and better that the Sergaent would forget about the challenge but she wasn't in the mood to start yet. She had a few questions about the flyer and she wasn't about to go to the Sergaent but it might be here only coice.

    She didn't know that animals could mean so much or make such a big difference. She had decided that for the week she would give up sarcasim.  She saw it as her giving into Sergeant Nelson but protecting the ones who weren't strong enought to take care of herself. As you can imagine, the "being nice" thing worked out as well as you might think. She couldn't take being stompped on all the time by the ones she regretfully had to call her superiors. She spent most of her time trying to think of ways to be insulting without the "Stupiders" (as she called them) knowing. Nothing seemed to help. Then something was digging, nagging, harassing her: her own thoughts. She would think one thing and then contradict herself. It was driving her insane. Finally she came to a conclusion when she was doing the well known and dreaded task of cleaning toilettes with her toothbrush.
   "What dignity am I trying to preserve? I have no dignity left. I have nothing left to loose. Might as well cave. Well, only a little bit. Before I cave I have to ask about the flyer. Poor panda. Well lets get it done and over with." She muttered to her toothbrush.

   "Sergeant Nelson?" She walked holding the flyer. She expected to find Sergeant Nelson but didn't really want to.

   "What do you want? Have you come to mock me again?" the girl couldn't believe it. Sergeant Nelson was crying? Someone as tough as her had feelings? She felt ridiculous thinking this but it was true. Seeing someone so tough fall to pieces made her feel vulnerable as well. At first she was hesitant to ask the question because that would be admitting that she actually cared about something. She had spent years trying to prove to everyone that she was heartless and it wasn't a reputation she was easily going to give up.

   "I saw this flyer and...look I can't talk to you if you are blubbering like a baby!" the girl blurted out. She felt like smacking her head in stupidity. All her life she refused to look at people, to see them as individuals rather than mindless drones. It's not that she's never seen anyone cry before. She was the most feared bully in school and students cried just at the sight of her.  The odd fact that she hadn't caused this pain stuck with her. Sergeant Nelson was crying silently.
   "I'm fine. What about the flyer?" She could tell the sergeant wasn't feeling open towards her. "Stupiders" she thought.
   "Just is there anything I can do ? I mean. For them?"
   "Yeah right. Is this a joke? This is a joke. Where are the cameras?" said the sergeant giggling.
   "Fine, I'll go. Bye. Hope you enjoy dirty toilettes."
   "Wait. Oh my gosh you are serious. I don't believe it. I broke you down. You were one of the tough ones. What made you care? No better yet, why were you acting like that in the first place?" At fist the girl was thinking "Yeah right like you care and even if you did, why would I tell you?" To the girl's surprise she blurted everything out. A whole bunch more maybes but the fact was that she had been keeping it in for so long that it was bound to get out sooner or later. It was a sense of releif that someone actually, scincerely cared. Even if it was Sergeant Nelson.

I am a mess and in despair.

I'm at the verge of ripping out my hair.

I didn't know I had so many tears.

It's horrible seeing one of your biggest fears

Come to life.

This has caused me so much strife.

How could parents cause so much harm

When they think their doing nothing wrong? 

How could they be so heartless and cruel?

It's gross but I would miss my dogs' slobbery drool.

I've had those dogs since I was three.

I want them to stay with me.

Now my parents might take them away.

Send them off to the S.P.C.A!

Hey if you absolutely love werewolf stories you have to read one that my friend is writing. There is not alot of it posted yet but what is written is really good. I realize virtually no one reads my blog however if you happen to come accross it one day please read my friend's story. As with my blog, comments are encouraged. The blog is:
tonks-rocks.blogdrive.com.
(Yes it does refer to Nymphadora "Don't call me 'Nymphadora'!" Tonks from Harry Potter and yes TONKS DOES ROCK.)
The story is really good so feel free to check it out.