. (rachluny) wrote in booknerdsunite,
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rachluny
booknerdsunite

story time

Hi everyone (: I have started writing the first of a few books, the E. Lyon chronicles. I have not done much yet, because  have spent about the last 3 weeks trying to find names for all of my characters, each with meanings that match with who they are.. and what their personalities are like. My main character is of course, Miss E. Lyon..Which stands for Evanna Lyon. You might think, oh my goodnes that's practically Evanna Lynch, which yes I have realised also. But I wanted my main character to be powerful and brave, therefore I thought of Evanna-young warrior, and Lyon, which is like a lion-brave. This is only a tiny bit of my first story, and more characters will be introduced, but if yo wouldnt mind, please read through what I ave written so far, and perhaps tell me what you think. Id rather not spend months writing a book, that turns out to be rubbish. thanks :)

Hi everyone (: I have started writing the first of a few books, the E. Lyon chronicles. I have not done much yet, because  have spent about the last 3 weeks trying to find names for all of my characters, each with meanings that match with who they are.. and what their personalities are like. My main character is of course, Miss E. Lyon..Which stands for Evanna Lyon. You might think, oh my goodnes that's practically Evanna Lynch, which yes I have realised also. But I wanted my main character to be powerful and brave, therefore I thought of Evanna-young warrior, and Lyon, which is like a lion-brave. This is only a tiny bit of my first story, and more characters will be introduced, but if yo wouldnt mind, please read through what I ave written so far, and perhaps tell me what you think. Id rather not spend months writing a book, that turns out to be rubbish. thanks :)

 Evanna's Memory
 Evanna slumped down on the cold stone floor beneath her, her waist length fiery red hair cloaking her face, as she cupped her head in her pale hands; deep in thought.

She opened her eyes to the world she had entered only two years before; entrancing and bulging green eyes gazing around the room in which she lay. Hearing a commotion, she lifted herself and moved into a kneeling up position in her cradle, intrigued. The man she believed to be her Father seemed to be dashing from room to room, searching for something unknown to Evanna. ‘ANDA!’ He began to call for the child’s brother, his son. ‘Anda, where are you?’ There was a sound of desperation in his voice. He ran into Evanna’s nursery, somewhere he had not yet looked. Dadai stared questioningly at his daughter; of course she had no idea where her brother had got to. He shouted loudly downstairs, telling the person he was going to look for Anda, and he dashed away...Quiet footsteps could be heard ascending the stairs. Bronagh, the girl’s Mother, stepped into the room, and perched herself uncomfortably on the rocking  chair in the corner. Her eyes looked glazed, and had a watery glimmer to them as she stared blankly forwards...

Hot tears trickled down Evanna’s face; after that day, she never saw her brother again.
He’d be 17 now, she thought to herself. She could still see the look of despair on her Mothers young face.  It was 12 years ago since her brother was cruelly taken from his family, by whom nobody knew. At the mention of this name, her parents would flinch and then become very quiet, for a very long time, She remembered everything changing from that day; although only young at the time, she knew perfectly well what terrible thing had happened. Her parents no longer sang lullabies to her at night,  never played with her, never took her out for walks...Never took her anywhere, they left her in the house all day long, with either her mother or father by her side. It was just protection  really, they couldn’t stand to lose another child; yet Evanna had just felt trapped her entire life. She was home-schooled, therefore making no friends at all. Every morning at 7 o’clock her Mother would wake her and bring her downstairs to the kitchen, still the same decor as when Anda was there; the whole house was the same. Evanna would then sit down at  the same rickety  wooden table, and wait for her father to bring her her daily porridge and glass of milk. They would allow her 15 minutes to eat up her breakfast, before she went upstairs to throw on some old clothes, to then  be called down again, to start lessons at eight o’clock. ‘See you’re just like the other children really’ Bronagh would say, smiling slightly as she told her daughter the date to write in the exercise books she had bought from the local school for her. ‘We do all the topics they do up at the village school, except you get to do it at home with Mummy see?’ Evanna sometimes felt as though she was being mocked, her parents still treated her like she was four years old. Didn’t they see she wanted to be like everyone else? She was fourteen, she should be out climbing trees in the woods, skipping and doing handstands in the street, and running down to Mrs Sweeney’s sweet shop to indulge in the finest toffee you could ever taste. She had never done any of these things. The most fun she had ever had was when Dadai persuaded Bronagh to invite Evanna’s cousin, Eakna, round to play a game of ‘carpet bowls’; as a birthday treat. Although Evanna was a patient, kind, and grateful girl, she just couldn’t find it in her sad self to appreciate what her Father had done for her. Not to forget the fact that Eakna was one of the most vain, and pompous girls she had ever met. Although to be fair, Evanna had not had that big a sample of girls her age in her life.  
      Evanna snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her front door creak open. It would be her Father coming in off the farm, and he would probably be expecting a steaming hot cup of tea when he came.

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