But I get to talk first. Anne is in the middle of chapter two and
She left me there with my head spinning around about to black out! You guys have no idea what it feels like to be a book character. While the author is writing you're reliving what happened. It's like you're taken back in time and you have to go through everything including the not knowing how its going to turn out all over again. And then when she stops writing you are left in what ever condition you were in.
Eric! Its my turn right now! BTW Eric is writing in bold and Roddy is writing in italics.I thought I;d share a paragraph with you from her book. Just a little taste.
It was like watching a tiger in a cage. Like watching an eagle in a net. Shivers ran down John’s spine. He wished that someone else were the prison guard. Big strong man that he was this youth frightened him. His eyes glittered and his lips were stretched over small white teeth from which hatred and loathing shone like sunlight. John was used to tired criminals. Men he pitied and men he prayed for, even the hardened men who he knew would do anything to get out did not frighten him as much as the young lion who was now turning his back on the tray of food he had slid under the door. Hardened criminals he could take, but this animal was not the kind of thing he was used to.
Right now I'm really mad at her. You know where she left me?
They had simply taken him away and sold him to a man who raised horses. Sold. Stamped and sealed as the property of another. He turned his hand over and stared hard at the mark upon it. The seal of another man. The same mark he would brand a hog or a letter with. The familiar sickness rose in his throat. The world swam. Only one thing stayed still: the red mark on his hand, a glowing red bird it grew flaming and and throbbing its image into his eyeballs so when he closed his eyes there it was imprinted on the back of his hand.It seemed to turn its head ansd fly toward him beak ready to pierce him through. He waited petrified. Its eyes glittered evilly and the thing dangling from its claws became a net the bird flew closer it was many birds each silent and sinister each re. each hilding the wedge of this net. They were above him. He turned his head and the net dropped enveloping him in its folds. It was cold brushing his skin like the touch of...Touch of what! I'm stuck feeling sick with my hand throbbing like it's on fire, hallucinating about birds feeling the cold touch of the net on my skin but unable to finish my thought until she writes it!
Sorry you guys! But Binker really wanted to do his post right now. This is Anne by the way.
Get me out of here miss anne person. Now!
Alright alright enough of this! Lets finish my thought!