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  • Harry Potter!

    Hi...

    Hmm...its been aa long time since I've posted anything, so I've decided to write about HARRY POTTER!

    I LOVE the Harry Potter series! Really! I mean, how could J.K. Rowling think up such amazing characters and such an amazing plot?!? Its so......gripping. She's so amazing. J.K. Rowling, I mean

    After reading the sixth book of the series (Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince), my friend had such AMAZING theories...two of which I have listed below

    1) Dumbledore could have made a Horcrux himself, since he killed the dark wizard Grindelwald, and since it was for a good cause (so he could stay alive and help and protect Harry), he didn't become evil.

    2) HARRY could be one of Voldemorts Horcruxes.

    My favourite character was Sirius Black, but now, since he DIED, I like Ron Weasley. I always DID like Ron, but I liked Sirius better. Sirius was so....perfect.

    And did you know, Voldemort is currently 66 years old?!? See, when Harry was 12, it said 50 years ago, Voldemort was 16...thus making him 62 in Harry's 12-year-old-time. So when Harry is 16, Voldemort would be 62+4=66, that is in the sixth book, Voldemort is 66 years old! Doesn't fit somehow,though, does it? I always imagined Voldemort to be....younger. Not VERY young, but THAT old.

    So those who HAVEN'T read any of the books, please please PLEASE go read them!!!

    Signing out with good advice
    SHARANYA

  • LAST ONE!

    Hiya!

    Okay...I'm just going to post two more poems I wrote, and then I will NEVER EVER post another literary thing again. Not in a few days, anyway. The poems are-

    The Life of a Human
    (Through the eyes of a bird)

    Sitting high up on the branch of a tree
    Hundreds of things I see
    A cat and a mouse,
    The roof of a house
    And a piece of rotting cheese.

    Look at the way these people run
    They’re always late, no time for fun
    They all look like they’re just so busy
    Just looking at them I feel so dizzy!

    Let them try a day in the life of a bird
    Such a romp, no human has heard.
    I’ll teach them to glide, I’ll teach them to fly
    They won’t feel the hours slip right by!

    I’ll help them if their wings are bent
    I’ll let them fly for hours on end!
    And when I’m done, they’ll feel so free
    They’ll all be saying “Thank you, birdie!”

    AND THE NEXT ONE IS:

    I’m Sick!

    I’ve got a measle on my toes,
    And I’ve got a really runny nose.
    Or maybe it’s those horrible mumps,
    I’m just so sick; I’m down in the dumps!

    My body aches; I feel a hundred years old,
    I’m oh so hot and yet so cold!
    I feel so very dreadfully ill,
    I think I need a headache pill!

    There’s a hammer pounding in my head,
    I just can’t get myself out of my bed.
    My feet are cold, my throat is dry,
    I feel so hot I think I’ll fry!

    I’ve got a fever and a cold,
    All food taste like mud or mould!
    There’s a medicine there I would like to pick,
    But I can’t get up because I’m just too SICK!!

    Okay. Thats it...no more short stories. Or poems. Or anything like that. I'm getting sick of it, and I'm pretty sure everyone ELSE is getting bored with them, too. So I'll stop.

    Thats the best thing about blogging. I can do whatever I want to on my blog and write whatever I want to write...because its MINE! ALL MINE!!!!! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

    No, but really...its quite cool.

    Oops...gtg..
    SHARANYA

  • AND ANOTHER ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    Hi...

    I suppose everyone is getting bugged with my stories...but I'll admit it....I WROTE AND POSTED WROTE ANOTHER ONE!Hehehe.......here we go... this one is a little weird (or should I say weirder than the others!)...but read it, and don't forget to comment!!!

    I wish we didn’t have to study ancient history. Who cares about the USA-Iraq war? Or that president, Cill Blinton? It’s all done and gone! It doesn’t matter anymore. It happened hundreds of years ago! And it’s so boring. But none of the teachers seemed very impressed with my philosophy, so I have to learn ancient history anyway. Ho hum.

    Hello, there! My name is Jessica Hill. I have an older sister called Laura, a dog called Comet and a Butbot5000™ (butler + robot). I study in Saturn Space School. It’s only a little far away from Neptune Nursery. Just one revolution by spaceship.

    Do you know, today my sister’s Butbot5001™ exploded! It was pouring milk onto her cornflakes and spilt some on itself and then BANG! Now she’s stuck with a Butbot5000™, just like me. Ha!

    I got yelled at in class for talking today. Well, it isn’t my fault. Entirely. Oh, all right, maybe it is my fault. But I can’t just help talking! I can sit quietly for only about five minutes and then I start talking again. I’m a Grade A chatterbox.

    We have this girl’s diary for our non-detail. Her name is Sharanya Gopinathan, from India. She lived in the 21st century. We have so much lot in common! We’re both twelve years old, we’re both talkative, we’re both into athletics, and we both have older sisters! I don’t know why but she sounds strangely familiar…

    My sister got her Drivers License for jet planes. Now I’ve got free flights home from school every day since she’s always looking for an opportunity to fly.

    I can only drive a racecar, but I’m going to pilot space ships when I grow up. I'll be such a good pilot, I’ll be first person to go to the outer Watery Way. Hey, it could happen.

    My dad loves collecting antiques. The stuff he keeps in the basement! Microwaves, computers, water bottles, steering wheels, there’s no end to the stuff there! But I have a question. Why would anyone take a water bottle to school when you could just take a water microchip?

    Can you believe that people in the year 2005 were so excited about a spaceship reaching Mars! It was all over their news! My uncle goes to Pluto for his meetings every day. Those 2004 people over-react too much. I mean, I go to school by spaceship and I don’t get into the paper for that!

    Oh yes, this is my life.
    In the year 4299.

  • ANOTHER ONE!!!

    Hi everybody!

    I wrote another one!!! Its about this girl and she's always...well, read ahead...

    “You’re late!” Mrs. Rogers screamed, “Katie Brown, I am sick of telling you every single day to try and make an effort to get to school early! If you were late one day, I could understand. If you were late two days, I could understand! If you were late three, four or five days, I could still understand! But you? Oh no, you’re never on time. You are late every single day! I really cannot stand this! If you do not enter my class on time from tomorrow, Katie, you will be sitting in the principal’s office for the whole class and you won’t get attendance for the whole day! I am serious about this, Katie. Now go sit down and open your book to page 34. Quick!”

    Oops.

    Well! It wasn’t like it was even a proper working day! Why do I have to be dead on time for extra classes??? IT WAS A SATURDAY, FOR HEAVENS SAKE!!! I’ll show her what early means! If I didn’t get to school on time tomorrow, I would sit in the principal’s office all day, not just that class! I was going to be here in school before EVERYONE! I would get there even before the teachers. I would show them all! Hah!

    All through art class, I made a list of all the things I would have to do that evening. These are usually the things I do the next morning. I have put a copy of it below.

    But then, my art teacher saw me writing the list, not painting, so I have to write ‘I must not do other things in art class’ one hundred times. Ho hum.

    When I got home, I finished off my homework as fast as I could. I wanted to do everything perfectly.

    I ironed my uniform my uniform a little too quickly and ironed my thumb, too, by mistake. But except for that little hitch, everything else went along smoothly. I was all set to show Mrs. Rogers who was ‘early’.

    I set my alarm to 5:45 a.m., knowing how I would want to laze in bed for ‘just another two minutes’. See how organized I am! I know myself so well!

    Trrrriiiiiinnnnn! Trrrriiiiiiinnnnn! 5:45! I didn’t even laze in bed for a little more time; I was so excited at the prospect of seeing Mrs. Rogers’ face when I turned up early and she couldn’t send me to the principal.

    I showered and dressed quickly, marveling at how quick I was when I wanted to be. Even if I had gotten up at 6:30, I would still have had five minutes to spare. My school uniform, I noticed, looked so good when it had been ironed properly, instead of just going over it with an iron in two minutes. When I looked at the mirror, I saw a person looking so neat; I wondered if that was really me!

    Then I headed downstairs for breakfast. The minute anyone saw me, they burst out laughing, for some reason. I hurriedly looked in the mirror. Was my uniform on backwards? Did I have something on my nose? Or was my hair messy, or something?

    When I came out of the bathroom I headed for the breakfast table, only to see that breakfast wasn’t on the table. Strange. I asked my sister where breakfast was.

    My sister hurriedly whispered something in my ear. Five minutes later, we were all heading out for Sunday brunch.

  • Christmas!

    I wrote another story...this one is a little bit Christmas-y...here goes...!

    “Only good children get presents from Santa Claus, and bad children get lumps of coal, remember that! And if you eat that Christmas cake while I’m not here, you might just find yourself crying over a lump of coal!”

    Oh no! I didn’t want a lump of coal for Christmas! That would be worse than… than… than…worse than going to the dentist and having all my teeth removed!

    I now had to make a big decision- which was better, eating a slice of forbidden Christmas cake two days before Christmas and a lump of coal from Santa, or going for two whole days without cake, but getting both cake and presents on Christmas? Ah! It was a tough decision.

    I had sincerely made up my mind not to touch the Christmas cake, which was cooling off near the window, but I just couldn’t resist it! As for the lump of coal, that didn’t matter a lot because my birthday was coming up soon, and no one could give me a lump of coal on my birthday, whether I was a good girl or not. So that didn’t matter a lot, either.

    After I had finished my slice of cake, I received a phone call from one of my friends. She told me that her parents had said that since she had been such a good girl that they were sure that Santa might leave the newest doll, complete with the whole wardrobe, for her.

    I was horrified! I had wanted that! And all because of that stupid slice of cake, my Christmas presents were gone! I always got nice Christmas presents! Mary Pepinson couldn’t get a nicer present than me. It was absurd! Unthinkable! And embarrassing, too.

    I decided that it was time for me to pay a visit to Santa.

    In the library book ‘Christmas- Carols, Crackers and Christ’ the hero of the story, Daniel, faced the Christmas tree and thought of nothing but Santa for fifteen whole minutes and he was immediately taken (by the Magic of Christmas, obviously) to the North Pole, to Santa’s house. It was time to test the theory.

    I sat in front of the Christmas tree for ages, not fifteen minutes.

    ‘Would it work?’ I thought.

    It worked! It worked! It worked! The Magic of Christmas must be working overtime!

    At the North Pole, a signboard said “Santa’s House” and underneath that, an arrow pointing east. The sign was made of cake, with the words written in chocolate frosting.

    I walked about two hundred yards east, and suddenly saw a huge gingerbread house. That huge house made Mount Everest seem tiny! I knocked on the enormous peppermint doors. They opened slowly and silently.

    Outside, the temperature was below freezing. Inside Santa’s home, it was as warm as toast and very bright and roomy. A huge red-and-green signboard said “Welcome to Santa’s home!”

    I opened another door and oh! Wonder of wonders! It was better than I had ever imagined! Hundreds, no, thousands of small, green elves with pointed ears and upturned noses were walking about all over the place, carrying parcels and presents of all shapes, sizes and colours. It was amazing!

    Every corner was filled with toys and candy- teddy bears, dolls, doll-houses, all types of balls, chocolates, toy-trains, building blocks, crayons, squeaky toys and so much more!

    The walls were made out of peanut butter, and the floors out of solid chocolate. And the high ceiling was made out clear chewing gum, so you could see the skies far, far up above your head. It was fantastic! And the whole room was filled with elves!

    I was gazing around the place, with my mouth open, when a small, chubby, bearded elf came and tapped me on the shoulder.

    “Hello, there! What brings you to Santa’s home today?”
    “I n-n-need to a-a-apologize to S-s-santa, f-f-for eating the c-c-cake!” I whispered.
    “Just one second, dearest!” he said to me. Then he turned around and called to another, younger elf and said “Hey you! Get this little girl a cup of hot cocoa! Her teeth are chattering with cold!”

    The nice old elf thought that I was stammering because of the cold (it wasn’t even cold in there), when I was actually stuttering with nervousness!

    After I finished my hot cocoa he said “Ah yes, you said you wanted to talk to Mr. Santa Claus? All right then, I’ll call him for you.”

    About five minutes later, I saw Santa Claus. He was dressed in red and had that great foamy beard like in the pictures, but he seemed more real and true and pure than the pictures of Santa Claus that I had seen.

    After I apologized for eating the Christmas cake, I asked him if he might send me a better doll than I had now, with the doll-house. He smiled and clapped his hands.

    The next second, I was back at home, sitting on my bed. On Christmas Day I when I opened my presents, I found a doll with a doll-house. And can you believe what I found when I opened the garage door of the doll-house? A tiny lump of coal.

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