tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49156934130291983362024-03-05T10:16:14.221-08:004th Story DollsPensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-76425897796580320742010-08-15T18:45:00.000-07:002010-08-15T18:50:04.332-07:00We've Moved!This blog has moved to Wordpress. Find us at 4thstorydolls.wordpress.com<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505818562226230066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Air6wxiLOvgYg1H4wKfNTVNTe9BAfBeXAqAtIaMT2Jz-EOOOM1g6No_f595uKzekOCMSbtzcR9Afkal1vdDUxhoPDcHKpZhZj2Y5kee3oxLprtDo8aFochZgqGKpQ7uhVXOZJnlmrY0/s400/glass+door.jpg" /><br /> And don't get stuck in any revolving doors.Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-59026376562734244172010-08-14T23:13:00.000-07:002010-08-14T23:27:22.690-07:00A Little Introduction. . .<div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 515px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505516255738757170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTk-RIhr_cO8LqYL_Nds2ImxXD8c9nSO5m3EOJHnQlnGelsHifTTcTO5vortirgQq3RVtAQv-Kh9xuVCqYiuTnzV20t6vdlcMl8cAJQc3HVCAWy7E23W54wvRrH4dyZN_HOcFEehrBoI/s400/halo+1.gif" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 782px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 452px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505518785734282050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0UzuAa2oRwtZYgB4ZdEHywRwhlooXmb5yHWb_rrXgQzamU1SWcudUrC151KAk6kjoCeDOwMFHF0dOdurGzUk9ZsFlIEoTK_XxHeMcv3URz-WwPOqjLdS3ebZw_skMesnjClDks4cC94/s400/halo+2.gif" /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-30284452823474778862010-07-04T16:20:00.000-07:002010-07-04T16:48:13.637-07:00Happy Independence DayCharlotte's search for information was harder to conduct than she had first imagined. After all, you really couldn't walk up to perfect strangers and ask if they knew where your sister was living. <div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div> She decided to take a different approach. She knew a little about her sister, that she had a job making clothes and that she lived in a loft apartment.</div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div> "So I have the end," she thought to herself. "But what is the beginning? <em>Where</em> is the beginning? Where am I, anyway? And what day is it?"</div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div> Again, she couldn't come up with a way to pose this question to a total stranger, so she looked around the fair for clues. Perhaps she could ask the hot dog vendor? No. Maybe the House of Curiosities would have some useful information? Definitely not. <em>Newspaper stand! Of course</em>!</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div> She made a bee-line through the crowd to the newspaper stand, picked up a copy and started taking in information. Sunday. July 4th. "Elm Spring Times", read the header.</div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div> "I am in Elm Spring," she said to herself. She felt a little better. Then she felt much, much worse. . .</div><div> </div><div> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 341px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 501px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490201416012170210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPCxvyGxs0hSwpgISVKGrmN6qA_9gRAtYiicXjLgFFRSMH9bybS8vVpnusk8yQ8Zti_PDZ14kQxsVFcX0vSW4CefMtdLkrDZPCc7LEd6z7Ps5qb29YYUedh30-nvVyB6KbZ_MVim0MDZ8/s400/Newspaper.gif" /><br /><br /><br /><div></div> "Oh, boy," she said.Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-6413804934644740182010-06-27T13:57:00.000-07:002010-06-27T14:13:51.839-07:00Charlotte and Colette Arrive on the SceneOne may well wonder what our youngest heroine, Colette, had to say about their current lost and penniless state. The truth is, she didn't say much.<br /><br /> Her nature prevented her from being unnecessarily contradictory, especially with people she liked, so when Charlotte would attempt to brighten their outlook with quaint, but rather baseless sayings such as, "We'll be there in no time" and "We've come too far to turn back now", rather than disagree, Colette would most often smile and march on.<br /><br /> And it wasn't all bad. They had made it to a farming community (which happened to be hosting a county fair), and there were plenty of mice. Ordinarily Colette was no great lover of mice, but the mice drew cats, and cats were good to hug on.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487561130139007490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHeuiKZkq_ydtrP7qw1OO8s0Cgh-EWy6PI20E-eifFZ0wBIx29NQIK2k4rFeR7thfgSnVuCu7uv8YBTmGhJkC7bJvqMEbUQPIrbnLKSMVnJMZKKPKNn9p-561bz9ypvYbO879HNvBRw8/s400/stranglehold.jpg" /><br /><br /> To the ever-resourceful Charlotte, the fair seemed like a good place to gather intelligence and make some connections, so she left Colette with her unwilling pet, and struck out on her own. . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-34013220908356219232010-05-04T18:53:00.000-07:002010-06-27T13:57:40.481-07:00Night at the Fair - Part 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesnIVcxSFyQcVpQv3PVlLIx9XATVZmMoSqazkmtbNG5CfbNfgSmEMc6ttzg8dCSyVCtcOrnLbHYrAhuQhEhnvxRchV-FNJ3m-ACOaNJOyci1g3QjVa5szAOaANk4IUTtpKd_lo6RhWMs/s1600/county+fair+11.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467617314787390034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesnIVcxSFyQcVpQv3PVlLIx9XATVZmMoSqazkmtbNG5CfbNfgSmEMc6ttzg8dCSyVCtcOrnLbHYrAhuQhEhnvxRchV-FNJ3m-ACOaNJOyci1g3QjVa5szAOaANk4IUTtpKd_lo6RhWMs/s400/county+fair+11.jpg" /></a> Nan raised her head. The clown cut her eyes to the side, a mirthless smile frozen on her plaster face.<br /><br />"Can I <em>help</em> you?" she asked.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzbrniZilR_lGBGl5b43dAp2X9-WOVwqPXot1DBR9LkP1slvcwYFIlQ7iwIsDzq0fGXQ511RGsRGZtU29irh5sFse0jVltz2nS9HhCK02h7YQFJ3GI4C7ZX3WlswNbxWkfHi-u3n3AGo/s1600/county+fair+13.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467616626743983810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzbrniZilR_lGBGl5b43dAp2X9-WOVwqPXot1DBR9LkP1slvcwYFIlQ7iwIsDzq0fGXQ511RGsRGZtU29irh5sFse0jVltz2nS9HhCK02h7YQFJ3GI4C7ZX3WlswNbxWkfHi-u3n3AGo/s400/county+fair+13.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">"You alright?"<br /></div><div align="left"><br />"Excuse me, sir, but you can't just barge to the head of the line," said the woman.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"I go where I <strong>want</strong>."</div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgwxV6do9pdSq3DQTpsitQbKhUqbGUxvCe-Bd51LSSWEJgmyB5jjK7_yWIB0HvDmkpy8Qx_R0MkHQpesGMG_A4G5gyu-eMGtP9gT7x9ogbuF7Eqe2FMqqmqZbS2k7LaTHyCtrlRmMiKw/s1600/county+fair+14.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467615966695171602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgwxV6do9pdSq3DQTpsitQbKhUqbGUxvCe-Bd51LSSWEJgmyB5jjK7_yWIB0HvDmkpy8Qx_R0MkHQpesGMG_A4G5gyu-eMGtP9gT7x9ogbuF7Eqe2FMqqmqZbS2k7LaTHyCtrlRmMiKw/s400/county+fair+14.jpg" /></a> "Come on, kid."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVe-byKQQlIGL6Vuc-UQ3hBhAh-Fs2sFT8adXmdhIhjAlU_zpQGyTu0kMo7paNk2d5L5gUvKu0sTIR07bJRbk1L9Lh0qL2HN3Ew3C4fAtJ6lIcZOYv8eg7bhH2wfKKadt0iXf86CGQlJk/s1600/county+fair+15.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467615377145232306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVe-byKQQlIGL6Vuc-UQ3hBhAh-Fs2sFT8adXmdhIhjAlU_zpQGyTu0kMo7paNk2d5L5gUvKu0sTIR07bJRbk1L9Lh0qL2HN3Ew3C4fAtJ6lIcZOYv8eg7bhH2wfKKadt0iXf86CGQlJk/s400/county+fair+15.jpg" /></a><br />A crowd had begun to gather. Normally the hawker liked a crowd, but only if they had come for the right reasons. She tried to smooth things over.<br /><br /><br />"You know, I think that gun you chose just might have been jammed. I'll be happy to give you another try. For 25 cents."<br /><br />"Shut up, clown."<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRPi481vltpdVKd6faHpVmdSohtE7ZK_t0yF4M6d7QQmNNv7tJ4LyFfWqCpRyVysN39o0Tz9M6OY7v8Oo70tBYfrlYvwsXWOg_HKrN2D_yr2UUyorL0FhrreqOggE3w6wZIEULhfV9V0/s1600/county+fair+16.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467614960705195410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRPi481vltpdVKd6faHpVmdSohtE7ZK_t0yF4M6d7QQmNNv7tJ4LyFfWqCpRyVysN39o0Tz9M6OY7v8Oo70tBYfrlYvwsXWOg_HKrN2D_yr2UUyorL0FhrreqOggE3w6wZIEULhfV9V0/s400/county+fair+16.jpg" /></a>Nan was hefted to her feet.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oqj8hwl-vjU2_EQwKXAEZt-Fmep4BonLBdbI6BaI2AZOtLhEIIjjs2STu8yXuVki1oRAyQ-DPqUTde_yWwh7lHweUJOMqnBN9m4mBN84LjjOMDyLZ-AVMuB3uIjN5fpj9V26iILWDaE/s1600/county+fair+18.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467614017572633330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oqj8hwl-vjU2_EQwKXAEZt-Fmep4BonLBdbI6BaI2AZOtLhEIIjjs2STu8yXuVki1oRAyQ-DPqUTde_yWwh7lHweUJOMqnBN9m4mBN84LjjOMDyLZ-AVMuB3uIjN5fpj9V26iILWDaE/s400/county+fair+18.jpg" /></a><br /><br />"As for you, <em>Joker</em>, I believe you have something that belongs to this little girl. Hand over the purse."<br /><br /><br />"SORRY, SIR," she shouted, hoping to drown him out. "YOU HAVE TO BUY A TICKET TO PLAY."<br /><br /><br />The crowd hushed. He regarded her coolly.<br /><br /><br />"That's funny," he said. "I thought all you needed was a <em>gun</em>."<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ohyww3Lvo154uoHl9D6Pn1BuYXXCTdbsaC3Cv2DipSd05pGa-YYjVa8JJZ3dCSBTOR2isEtvE8iiM1R8FEVSc81fbYLQukhbgog1szhXwK6v1RgVap2YPuN2UqCqV8KT8UEYFBNLsrY/s1600/county+fair+19.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467613452009229570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ohyww3Lvo154uoHl9D6Pn1BuYXXCTdbsaC3Cv2DipSd05pGa-YYjVa8JJZ3dCSBTOR2isEtvE8iiM1R8FEVSc81fbYLQukhbgog1szhXwK6v1RgVap2YPuN2UqCqV8KT8UEYFBNLsrY/s400/county+fair+19.jpg" /></a><br />"Wait!"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAmP9h3kptvO4YjA7KproyTh69w7VvVECLCwyZ11Q6lf1VakWWukjVcKVQ9kHc3HnByY3SPCcq24hPEXyz0aoK1qFB_KlA1kjauSeHZXJJ7XngkjcIdsus0B9obsUgYTaYiOwMWG4Xzk/s1600/county+fair+20.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467612968475718610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAmP9h3kptvO4YjA7KproyTh69w7VvVECLCwyZ11Q6lf1VakWWukjVcKVQ9kHc3HnByY3SPCcq24hPEXyz0aoK1qFB_KlA1kjauSeHZXJJ7XngkjcIdsus0B9obsUgYTaYiOwMWG4Xzk/s400/county+fair+20.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="center"><em>click</em></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dRkv2LiJPyeRnAIFaX5nfnaGpuLjcQ0Whrqe8FBx6XvVb1uClv1LxwHV_qVHftqy8IC2vVr5L-Wr0B9sjL-VKveoCQD5TPCDCht_fnr-C4_BMdISLQH16yIs82MKeQsrWV_pwcsfZIU/s1600/county+fair+21.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467612007427833970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dRkv2LiJPyeRnAIFaX5nfnaGpuLjcQ0Whrqe8FBx6XvVb1uClv1LxwHV_qVHftqy8IC2vVr5L-Wr0B9sjL-VKveoCQD5TPCDCht_fnr-C4_BMdISLQH16yIs82MKeQsrWV_pwcsfZIU/s400/county+fair+21.jpg" /></a>"It has to be-"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSmyum4GVbYx6tRGmwu86K6iJSJAAauX3gPZS_1wkmUEXovE3PjjoCGNLvoX8xgyMVAv8cIl-McMuCbGHj6eLDvpelfqjKlzJJH1qd3Oviqe0zw6qub26YEjHtDc14j6apGbymnbYkR0/s1600/county+fair+22.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467611469684770482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSmyum4GVbYx6tRGmwu86K6iJSJAAauX3gPZS_1wkmUEXovE3PjjoCGNLvoX8xgyMVAv8cIl-McMuCbGHj6eLDvpelfqjKlzJJH1qd3Oviqe0zw6qub26YEjHtDc14j6apGbymnbYkR0/s400/county+fair+22.jpg" /></a>"-one of <em>our</em> guns!"<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOINZpT8Dp2t8xDkNMj67UvBTN6Cp436fCzICxKHJixAWmaYQ5bl1QbUXRBI4PhDnhgUBD8zX07Y_DCjAcHZZttWR3aihBIG0ZBp2Eng7sEfKjACDX5IO3hEnGf7bZfdvaHa33le9nivg/s1600/county+fair+24.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467611031917956850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOINZpT8Dp2t8xDkNMj67UvBTN6Cp436fCzICxKHJixAWmaYQ5bl1QbUXRBI4PhDnhgUBD8zX07Y_DCjAcHZZttWR3aihBIG0ZBp2Eng7sEfKjACDX5IO3hEnGf7bZfdvaHa33le9nivg/s400/county+fair+24.jpg" /></a><br />"Wrong again."</div><div></div><div><br /><div><em></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfd8SbY5OuKcxw3Lz3k5Kv7ygOj_yBUFXUuEm5l-LK7iiDFb4tFGOoiC47kBr0QkeTBhpKYzuG1szCxTUu6G5Q7W0vrlY0Mn17WiDDCc0wQ7KpYl-KAaRy3UPoW-8Chllq8WOhD66J6s4/s1600/county+fair+23.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467610228271228754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfd8SbY5OuKcxw3Lz3k5Kv7ygOj_yBUFXUuEm5l-LK7iiDFb4tFGOoiC47kBr0QkeTBhpKYzuG1szCxTUu6G5Q7W0vrlY0Mn17WiDDCc0wQ7KpYl-KAaRy3UPoW-8Chllq8WOhD66J6s4/s400/county+fair+23.jpg" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div align="left">The crowd dove for cover as projectiles went flying. The stuffed bear watched in horror as his Lady Love stood stone still in the midst of the chaos.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nmjDrTAgW6_dkkXUiHH5U-GCjt7tQEzgmwOSW_29BSPJ6kIqdQguCNyB_azIhnkLLN95tpHYauWginsAysYJm0N1g94phBvdtZk6HU1QwTSQAj1QEWGZ7sCYm_C1wn5Q5hJZRxPA5xU/s1600/county+fair+25.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467609416086035618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nmjDrTAgW6_dkkXUiHH5U-GCjt7tQEzgmwOSW_29BSPJ6kIqdQguCNyB_azIhnkLLN95tpHYauWginsAysYJm0N1g94phBvdtZk6HU1QwTSQAj1QEWGZ7sCYm_C1wn5Q5hJZRxPA5xU/s400/county+fair+25.jpg" /></a> "Now. The purse."<br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkgvQDoLlk-nX52yDlKsnYKj2eNOruXmRtNzPOHP1t7awY3Mk9VPqPZGzLnr30wMTJAynYvGv4ihoXwg6qsftKS1B4XvBZ_DWvZfH8eN6X58reCXD4FhAAFfQ81EqxWGthgkePlo6Z7Y/s1600/county+fair+26.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467609076890329186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkgvQDoLlk-nX52yDlKsnYKj2eNOruXmRtNzPOHP1t7awY3Mk9VPqPZGzLnr30wMTJAynYvGv4ihoXwg6qsftKS1B4XvBZ_DWvZfH8eN6X58reCXD4FhAAFfQ81EqxWGthgkePlo6Z7Y/s400/county+fair+26.jpg" /></a></div><div>"Not a problem, sir."</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467607251008648802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFTI8C2VO-EbYCOm8hkYRXSJ5wHdA9SBlLWmv59BwlTKGw4-PDTxLN337sOwNOBKzwF7ujvhBn4o4Xu8DX0_3_2PbcPQpZb5dmJLs47UMZAU-9_mWxfuts9AtPzeNuWdo-dGkh0UxPsY/s400/county+fair+27.jpg" /></div><div></div><div>"Here, kid. Try to hang onto it."<br /><br />Nan was astounded. This was the first truly helpful adult she had ever encountered.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div>And she was not about to let him get away.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"It's a satchel," she said. "Not a purse."<br /><br />He turned around. "What?"<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiQ8Welt7QSNrWQxPAcDyn3qQ7hEOUIqaCMWY4_UfW8EwEkPPgqhouizE3it0PN6By36XzbiAsD0mpTaAyKwYx9B0syYbNZHMWbfM-E-lUm0dxFmSvPFnexZi-D6Hp83paoifCRWL7eo/s1600/county+fair+29.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467606657186876818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiQ8Welt7QSNrWQxPAcDyn3qQ7hEOUIqaCMWY4_UfW8EwEkPPgqhouizE3it0PN6By36XzbiAsD0mpTaAyKwYx9B0syYbNZHMWbfM-E-lUm0dxFmSvPFnexZi-D6Hp83paoifCRWL7eo/s400/county+fair+29.jpg" /></a> </div><div align="left">Success.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"Thank you," she said, in the sweetest tone she could muster. "Oh, there is one more thing. . ."</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">He shifted on his feet, suddenly aware of the crowd watching the whole scene. "What would that be?"<br /><br /><br />"I think we won a prize. I'd like that little bear."</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"You mean the reindeer?"</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />Annoyed by the contradiction, Nan started to repeat herself, but, realizing she needed to stay on his good side, quickly changed gears. "The b-reindeer. Yes."</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467606272322738578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogYiDq8X7DIOVXYmLrOPNqtuhNXEbHjlB4T_PC11SkZnoKxzcX2nGQstbB4PpnBOTP-NpIXda9hzPTfxUsflYXuCpT7aWCoa7SGS6Ms5KI2-Oym2fyPukhUMVzzmB6epZZsawwp_CUsQ/s400/county+fair+30.jpg" />He plucked it off the line.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWr5CgLhLSi-U-gBY5UWrHJYY0iPkMyrXncQVN_DllqpjgAFkQslHbk0uDEqhhzzwxk2tEgOdYXpCMmexPwWafXGlNx2-J63eFU68JdQJOnFYNxYFit1SUBgVx5pD5_PvxRwsOZnaqQXI/s1600/county+fair+32.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467605778301770594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWr5CgLhLSi-U-gBY5UWrHJYY0iPkMyrXncQVN_DllqpjgAFkQslHbk0uDEqhhzzwxk2tEgOdYXpCMmexPwWafXGlNx2-J63eFU68JdQJOnFYNxYFit1SUBgVx5pD5_PvxRwsOZnaqQXI/s400/county+fair+32.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj74FM1SLx5vTKBJMxuWffF9-6zQKceC4YAt3pl2x-mD06vOZBJ8HvxN86-e3N03yEH-wgNovrbfru6_Er1J1JoKGRXYoEIz1tARQWgEzgNtGkjIH4eIjdq9DI68yWIv2D0xxkjXA9gSrw/s1600/county+fair+35.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467604204408997026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj74FM1SLx5vTKBJMxuWffF9-6zQKceC4YAt3pl2x-mD06vOZBJ8HvxN86-e3N03yEH-wgNovrbfru6_Er1J1JoKGRXYoEIz1tARQWgEzgNtGkjIH4eIjdq9DI68yWIv2D0xxkjXA9gSrw/s400/county+fair+35.jpg" /></a> "Here. One breindeer."<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfkO3okQO3fMhSywEWpgUrclNbnsocbYWH9OY54-fgPXqL7t2GQ_g9dqSsNuFbsqixqTpQG8nxRlcUe0iE4Z8Xjk1ZDcPjHoCjTXBqsiLyEVg079pTwRxuE1kX0O-EQ6iaeKGs8g0DPP8/s1600/county+fair+36.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467603448639980002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfkO3okQO3fMhSywEWpgUrclNbnsocbYWH9OY54-fgPXqL7t2GQ_g9dqSsNuFbsqixqTpQG8nxRlcUe0iE4Z8Xjk1ZDcPjHoCjTXBqsiLyEVg079pTwRxuE1kX0O-EQ6iaeKGs8g0DPP8/s400/county+fair+36.jpg" /></a> Nan gripped her prize tightly.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"Breindeer," she smiled. She looked up to thank her hero but he had already made his way into the crowd.<br /><br />Nan stood up and picked her way out of the debris, Breindeer on her shoulder.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMQ3qe1sqDXReg8vuMs3WYepyjlAlL3T7Vd7QA6dcLlO1gCitJZXPJWMXlYxkGDoPyOvQsfKn5nNh3UliRq60kpt9EicfJm1tOwLPc8xUvjFHjjV6KHWeFAB0JIzirThuBLgtlEQikZg/s1600/county+fair+38.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467602163328113442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRMQ3qe1sqDXReg8vuMs3WYepyjlAlL3T7Vd7QA6dcLlO1gCitJZXPJWMXlYxkGDoPyOvQsfKn5nNh3UliRq60kpt9EicfJm1tOwLPc8xUvjFHjjV6KHWeFAB0JIzirThuBLgtlEQikZg/s400/county+fair+38.jpg" /></a></div><div></div><div>"Well, that <em>was</em> fun," she said. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdl7n1YbuxD7p3unHCa0VNpWKzOgDzHsgEmbJEYVLCiOKadTuPRIrADyIVsSJdm1wMpnBgx5Si3J6eXlvpyJJSDN_368oYnBbQ7tQ3YOIlSHLESgZxX8-VEotcPQJBrwa_FzmLsHWSNb8/s1600/county+fair+15.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-17063437676186137652010-04-03T16:54:00.000-07:002010-04-03T22:24:49.250-07:00Night at the FairNight had fallen at the fair. Nan walked through the midway stalls and watched people get sucked into difficult games of skill or chance. One stall was drawing quite a crowd. She stopped to look and see what kind of game it was.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456124955517658530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKF9_3ztyrfZnNJME_krA9Gs98zyK34l2MyW8gYlatX1t2M9H_oode4vZ3p5T0o5VkAcEb3UiC9dtQ2Ih1idAaavGWxlzxmvMymuZk0E-gBfTqDHSirCuKQXidTI5yDUfU2yzLkuQgBQ/s400/county+fair+1a.jpg" /><br /> It was a simple game- for 50 cents you could shoot targets through a small window and get a toy. Nan eyed the prizes hanging above the booth.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456127723898933218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRWy6_PiHOGyRJmmqdP9mmAAtyu72-347RHvKTz7PezW3MANDM8513uG1ytOwF18MKYpT7HrSnA_UnZBwDt69rXpta2F1xzV7ybBNsgF71bgpf-KSgLlyFyDQjzquR35oQDDTUEuAUe0/s400/county+fair+a.jpg" /><br /> One prize in particular caught her eye. It was a stuffed bear with a red Christmas vest and long ears. She looked again. Or was it a reindeer with a badly shaped muzzle?<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456130015560329186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6B7WRtqkFHKJ-ipoPeKfEav0tQpHAr9pO40xbw1Tm7xK3odZBpignWSlSdsMHcUtd1LZW3t340RhwxPdGS_4T4vqLi1r6Yqzgr04QEMq2ARBD0FWOxVGhEpJWeV4TxZnbKhgDiG2QpWI/s400/county+fair+a+2.jpg" /><br /> She wasn't sure, but it was charming. It had character, and she wanted it badly.<br /><br /> The truth was, this Christmas-vested mishap of a stuffed toy <em>did</em> have character. A mind of its own and a heart. A heart which belonged to his Lady Love, a delicate ballerina who could hold a pose for days. Who had held that exact pose for as long as he could remember.<br /><br /> His admiration for her knew no bounds. He knew he was ugly and awkward by comparison, but felt that if she would drop her pose just once and turn around, his chivalrous qualities could win her.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456130467617792050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWidkwM3mEkOJo8zv42k9iYpuyH3ehqgkcD8mbqjttR-nWzgUCee16TbFU8OP0aSObo9Hpu1QmZ3W0qMmdt6MWuBzE3_wPAKwSx6Q9_nxUbOa8aHr5-4kK9GdU8kWuKPlmdiLraikoVFI/s400/county+fair+b.jpg" /><br /> Entranced by the lights and goodies, Nan was easy prey for the hawker. "50 cents is all you need to play the game and win a prize," she said to the crowd in general. Nan glanced sideways at her. The hawker leaned over.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVkAzN6qxf7uOnO74N4K9MDvt_F9Kjstt2pxkCF8n2Tl1e98xQ6onjQApVy1bqCGfxfcCY7CQMDrJEbgRj9IUYZY2veonVHNne1SZFKNS4gwPCTg0LreLckzP2ys63fXMB9UYQHGMuAs/s1600/county+fair+2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456071569267712978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVkAzN6qxf7uOnO74N4K9MDvt_F9Kjstt2pxkCF8n2Tl1e98xQ6onjQApVy1bqCGfxfcCY7CQMDrJEbgRj9IUYZY2veonVHNne1SZFKNS4gwPCTg0LreLckzP2ys63fXMB9UYQHGMuAs/s400/county+fair+2.jpg" /></a> "Why don't you give it a try. I'm sure you'll be good at it."<br /></div><div> Nan considered. The little reindeer was looking more and more like it should belong to her by the minute.</div><div><br /> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aPbwQukoxagwkMjROh9XyiTL1sWmzHz1UFkEdeY0ciMu1xtVV1mo1xj74prGj-gxeXjQB1Lgh5lMGAAddhxUNVUhgZ2e-P8cZ-cvcVgdUjTf_ii2x56JmfsMgRTLtTxIszxuGZ4niOc/s1600/County+Fair+1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456071287704245058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aPbwQukoxagwkMjROh9XyiTL1sWmzHz1UFkEdeY0ciMu1xtVV1mo1xj74prGj-gxeXjQB1Lgh5lMGAAddhxUNVUhgZ2e-P8cZ-cvcVgdUjTf_ii2x56JmfsMgRTLtTxIszxuGZ4niOc/s400/County+Fair+1.jpg" /></a>"This is the cheapest game at the fair. 50 cents today. 50 cents tomorrow. Always 50 cents. And it's a sure shot at a nice prize."</div><div> </div><div>Nan knew in her heart of hearts that she should not play- these games were risky, designed to make the player lose. But she couldn't resist. Getting a shot at that bear, or reindeer, or whatever it was, was definitely worth 50 cents in her mind.<br /></div><div><br /><br /> </div><div>"Sure, I'll try," she said. </div><div><br /> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr60fNJZld5oEpOapZ23Wknikriy-K7pn27L2fi7Z-EOE6-gROaf3DbyoDMZNmdySl6S-P9MzpTGDQx6H1HdmeUmYLhWE1_Q6wo0MJ30rVAgHaae485xD9L9qc6HOEfSY8GpgmfLGPu1M/s1600/county+fair+3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456070969765486338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr60fNJZld5oEpOapZ23Wknikriy-K7pn27L2fi7Z-EOE6-gROaf3DbyoDMZNmdySl6S-P9MzpTGDQx6H1HdmeUmYLhWE1_Q6wo0MJ30rVAgHaae485xD9L9qc6HOEfSY8GpgmfLGPu1M/s400/county+fair+3.jpg" /></a>"Fantastic!" said the hawker. "Leave your bag there and choose a weapon. And be thinking about which prize you want!"<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOCLeGZrvai-jhdG35yYtLLp0v7WHmkXg2iRKDBmwQzgKgm_4YAlr1wJgfoCpqx5SRZO2HYOgokRLW_jHsaxZil_1-vrkfXbieezRZAadOfzhcllHJGlI-3eY5iH5MIPyRCvH8Abm3gE/s1600/county+fair+4.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456070655485518386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOCLeGZrvai-jhdG35yYtLLp0v7WHmkXg2iRKDBmwQzgKgm_4YAlr1wJgfoCpqx5SRZO2HYOgokRLW_jHsaxZil_1-vrkfXbieezRZAadOfzhcllHJGlI-3eY5iH5MIPyRCvH8Abm3gE/s400/county+fair+4.jpg" /></a> Nan already knew. She shook out the last bit of change from her satchel and handed it over, even the wheatback penny she'd saved for two years.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXd1UlZ76ns_WPkFO_dXeAMvQW9w8-_PU6MIpi55lLtmmwjYYXmcHWo35T2lnWtliDs_IwbBxDZ9gqn14HmmIGppljL7EYlOmzzGSuBGEYsbeze43XdJV9o9l-PQuAQTLLZmLy8_mXsM/s1600/county+fair+6.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456067998917124354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXd1UlZ76ns_WPkFO_dXeAMvQW9w8-_PU6MIpi55lLtmmwjYYXmcHWo35T2lnWtliDs_IwbBxDZ9gqn14HmmIGppljL7EYlOmzzGSuBGEYsbeze43XdJV9o9l-PQuAQTLLZmLy8_mXsM/s400/county+fair+6.jpg" /></a> She chose a gun with a long barrel. "Going for precision, eh?" said the hawker, as she moved towards the edge of the tent. "That's smart. You have 3 shots. 5 points wins a prize. Light green soldiers are worth one and a half points each. The dark green guy is worth 5 but he moves so he's harder to hit."<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqiMl904QppHVufQcW-HtA8SDMfKBjHi71ClltskAjgZwze4DBrbYOsAbgw5iPLL10fxgRAC0s8O4E-PjyMPwnfozzJkqpcHTK21UfBVWYLlcVhTch8p993P4KxvOsPVnqJu-30_gXcw/s1600/county+fair+7.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456067479375982674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqiMl904QppHVufQcW-HtA8SDMfKBjHi71ClltskAjgZwze4DBrbYOsAbgw5iPLL10fxgRAC0s8O4E-PjyMPwnfozzJkqpcHTK21UfBVWYLlcVhTch8p993P4KxvOsPVnqJu-30_gXcw/s400/county+fair+7.jpg" /></a> </div><div>Nan felt a little jittery. She swung the gun around and aimed through the window. Slow and steady was the way to go about this game. </div><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBk3nwkmsObKTWArmm__Kyt5MhXsmHPmY9lN6C_iNuezpnFKqffyKFsjyR5F92tCUA4SAiiV7q8IBYkGw0oSyY4uPlZ9qPKHZoyMtTCT_fJiKZigTi8WbIt5YNUl3ARIi_sInR7NF0iU/s1600/county+fair+8.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456066591565347154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBk3nwkmsObKTWArmm__Kyt5MhXsmHPmY9lN6C_iNuezpnFKqffyKFsjyR5F92tCUA4SAiiV7q8IBYkGw0oSyY4uPlZ9qPKHZoyMtTCT_fJiKZigTi8WbIt5YNUl3ARIi_sInR7NF0iU/s400/county+fair+8.jpg" /></a><br /> She lined up the first soldier, made sure it was right, and took the shot. Much to her disappointment, she found that it was an air-powered gun. Instead of a loud bang it gave only a small pop, and the beanbag "bullet" fell short of the window.<br /><br /> "Hey!" she exclaimed. "This isn't working."<br /><br /> "Maybe your aim was off," the hawker shrugged. "Try again."</div><br /><div> Nan scooted the box forward with her knee, but the hawker snapped, "Now leave that be. Moving my setup isn't going to help you if your aim is bad."</div><br /><div> "My aim is <em>not</em> <em>bad,</em>" she said slowly. She entertained brief thoughts of setting her sights on the clown and then seeing what she had to say about her aim, but there was only one bullet left, and she would rather have the stuffed toy than exact revenge on a peevish clown.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hqBmyf59sRT4FHUMHhnyMQgegzBHkhHiXj6ha4XQX6ztTnpk3Qxc5vjoPKpG5n57shdaHl1YpPybXBArC7SkzYIwi3mKmSBOEuThZkcMeoIAjRaHSQRYWB9J4Y-lWbMZYE0syblf8ZI/s1600/county+fair+9.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456066151289557810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hqBmyf59sRT4FHUMHhnyMQgegzBHkhHiXj6ha4XQX6ztTnpk3Qxc5vjoPKpG5n57shdaHl1YpPybXBArC7SkzYIwi3mKmSBOEuThZkcMeoIAjRaHSQRYWB9J4Y-lWbMZYE0syblf8ZI/s400/county+fair+9.jpg" /></a><br /> Nan put it out of her mind and took aim at the dark green soldier. She took her time. She counted the number of seconds it took him to move from one side of the window to the other, and then the number of seconds she would have a clear shot at him, and then tried to guess how many seconds it would take to fire the gun. Her finger twitched on the trigger. 3, 2,-</div><div> </div><div> "Don't take all day, kid, we've got other people waiting," the hawker interrupted. Nan jumped and fired by accident. The pellet skittered around on the ground in front of her.<br /><br /> The bear reindeer- lost! Her wheatback penny- gone! Nan put her head down and cried.</div><div> </div><div> "Stop it!" the hawker hissed. "Get out of here."</div><div><br /> </div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWnk93H5hbVe7I55N4FhK-End8trXG1wR49TQSHu1usDxK6ruHVTDwMkMkTnL21yjDW7Oc31rqef5q7M0beijKEX4tprGkUDhN1sEH6xFUwZrtR6R40qOMWd81RNPFgasppkER6_Mg4o/s1600/county+fair+10.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456065665368339874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWnk93H5hbVe7I55N4FhK-End8trXG1wR49TQSHu1usDxK6ruHVTDwMkMkTnL21yjDW7Oc31rqef5q7M0beijKEX4tprGkUDhN1sEH6xFUwZrtR6R40qOMWd81RNPFgasppkER6_Mg4o/s400/county+fair+10.jpg" /></a><br />"That was not fair!" Nan yelled.</div><div> </div><div>"Shut up and get out of here! I've got a business to-"</div><div><br />A shadow fell across Nan. The hawker herself shut up.</div><div> </div><div>"That <em>still </em>was not fair," Nan said sullenly.</div><div><br /> </div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZWD-p26dNRM1_52ZGmwKFU1Ag2rVboI5z_Tp8VFEMImtxwpbwW7_NfvwWryGEst9SACUF43OsCJcMWmJTDXCZpRw4aseNEVIEdS7B6hXsbWVpNuZaKdlrvOIlNhgTglacNNefdn-Mx8/s1600/county+fair+11.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456064930066645202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZWD-p26dNRM1_52ZGmwKFU1Ag2rVboI5z_Tp8VFEMImtxwpbwW7_NfvwWryGEst9SACUF43OsCJcMWmJTDXCZpRw4aseNEVIEdS7B6hXsbWVpNuZaKdlrvOIlNhgTglacNNefdn-Mx8/s400/county+fair+11.jpg" /></a>"Sure it was," said a voice behind her. "You look like a smart kid. Don't you know you get what you pay for at these things?"<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcV-GO616yasiR1XC4dqSpQGY0L6tg-4eGQUdVybMN0_0JbQNQulKIvkqxcmi9gzxn9wdcUqe6RXKqvW6zuEVs1EbNF-fjEXpVdXumBRMd5zw4nOtgR5NVGBUJ5uH7SAsfQNdwiStl-g/s1600/county+fair+12.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456064296101387826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcV-GO616yasiR1XC4dqSpQGY0L6tg-4eGQUdVybMN0_0JbQNQulKIvkqxcmi9gzxn9wdcUqe6RXKqvW6zuEVs1EbNF-fjEXpVdXumBRMd5zw4nOtgR5NVGBUJ5uH7SAsfQNdwiStl-g/s400/county+fair+12.jpg" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-88928243397445783182009-12-24T23:03:00.000-08:002010-04-02T23:06:28.291-07:00Christmas Eve<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXV6vIVdow_0Zvv5upyB_yA4zZfnOzFqp9M-SKwrubMK7CTX2VKHkFt8IS7tD7_s_3nwJJ3w24JeJCGQ0OB7J8QM0_FjexgplCBId10c7WJsX51W8gCiFw3t2ZTG5WPAvmvk0oA_31p4/s1600-h/Christmas+09+053.jpg"><br /></a><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Christmas Eve<br /><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwFrtZTSbMHmByB7otgeY1Q2OLdUGdChdTY-M_OkMmIdVjIVBq8Eo_IJkqNsOydY8X4vrixMwN9dOZyxj6Ip5pDE5wuWt8i5xq7Fyda2p6x3D2Umru-pPSzlZPFN_56SPkZyhJbu7eDM/s1600-h/Christmas+09+052.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419068802375391874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwFrtZTSbMHmByB7otgeY1Q2OLdUGdChdTY-M_OkMmIdVjIVBq8Eo_IJkqNsOydY8X4vrixMwN9dOZyxj6Ip5pDE5wuWt8i5xq7Fyda2p6x3D2Umru-pPSzlZPFN_56SPkZyhJbu7eDM/s400/Christmas+09+052.jpg" /></a>Nan and Breindeer waiting up for Santa. Complete with night vision goggles.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXV6vIVdow_0Zvv5upyB_yA4zZfnOzFqp9M-SKwrubMK7CTX2VKHkFt8IS7tD7_s_3nwJJ3w24JeJCGQ0OB7J8QM0_FjexgplCBId10c7WJsX51W8gCiFw3t2ZTG5WPAvmvk0oA_31p4/s1600-h/Christmas+09+053.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419070291025358578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXV6vIVdow_0Zvv5upyB_yA4zZfnOzFqp9M-SKwrubMK7CTX2VKHkFt8IS7tD7_s_3nwJJ3w24JeJCGQ0OB7J8QM0_FjexgplCBId10c7WJsX51W8gCiFw3t2ZTG5WPAvmvk0oA_31p4/s400/Christmas+09+053.jpg" /></a>Don't stay up too late!<br /><br />Merry Christmas from the 4th Story!<br /><br /></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-34225116849066920752009-12-18T22:13:00.000-08:002009-12-18T23:00:27.995-08:00Fashion Shoots<div style="text-align: center;">Little knowing that her younger sister and her fair-haired companion were wandering the countryside, penniless and directionless, Gavin was quite enjoying herself. After gaining a great amount of attention for her success in the Fall Fashion Festival, several major names in the industry had contacted her, asking her to appear in their ads.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVGsD2SPSIlR7tmNy-vGx2xwjjm8DiQxn-X7n6Wktu52SN5FwfF41ag1Pp4hHjlY02M5GhZ4d279GYxXJReAAhbHSjV6YR9zbfdelDlpBtZ_icbSabIYQMZ810HH2qgEXGGgCoSjbg6w/s1600-h/Toblerone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVGsD2SPSIlR7tmNy-vGx2xwjjm8DiQxn-X7n6Wktu52SN5FwfF41ag1Pp4hHjlY02M5GhZ4d279GYxXJReAAhbHSjV6YR9zbfdelDlpBtZ_icbSabIYQMZ810HH2qgEXGGgCoSjbg6w/s400/Toblerone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416830182952033682" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">one for Toblerone Chocolate. . .<span style="font-style: italic;">(she received a year's supply of chocolates as payment.)</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Tjrw2Jndd6IaivTWmC3PccCruwTHZRMP2bjTl3WYfumMwZWjeH5EVB4_i5RZD86AR6S0-lJqgP2suVcUUw2cYv9hja0h6Q24m8nTPvW6SUQjTgA8zrqgimYE_uXwebJIraa8jpRZgwU/s1600-h/flower+shop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Tjrw2Jndd6IaivTWmC3PccCruwTHZRMP2bjTl3WYfumMwZWjeH5EVB4_i5RZD86AR6S0-lJqgP2suVcUUw2cYv9hja0h6Q24m8nTPvW6SUQjTgA8zrqgimYE_uXwebJIraa8jpRZgwU/s400/flower+shop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416835940052400210" border="0" /></a>and a new line of millinery. . .<span style="font-style: italic;">(they let her keep the hat.)</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVUV04FptdW776hX72gaPLp3kzbdPUmtvGiBOsY3Mt_hGhOsMMR-cvG87535gVF9rDmvdvcdBkMEL7JrBD3M-5av6TWuQ1hueXgoSPPYZBvdLZV4VS9jKInaJFPFj8aNZjSlifXZs-qI/s1600-h/beads.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVUV04FptdW776hX72gaPLp3kzbdPUmtvGiBOsY3Mt_hGhOsMMR-cvG87535gVF9rDmvdvcdBkMEL7JrBD3M-5av6TWuQ1hueXgoSPPYZBvdLZV4VS9jKInaJFPFj8aNZjSlifXZs-qI/s400/beads.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416836706954252274" border="0" /></a>and finally one for a new company that specialized in black pearls. <span style="font-style: italic;">(She had to negotiate with them to be able to keep the necklace. They eventually agreed, but only on the condition that it was not to appear in any of her creations.)</span><br /><br />Yes, things were going quite well for Gavin and company. She congratulated herself on a job well done, and retired for the evening with a latte and a box of hard-earned Toblerone.<br /></div><br /></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-45373186446157897802009-10-25T19:18:00.000-07:002009-10-25T20:30:10.561-07:00Enter Nan<div align="center">While Charlotte and Colette were finishing their gloomy picnic lunch, a few miles away, a country fair was in full swing.<br /></div><div align="center">A small figure with blazing red hair surveyed the scene from afar, and then decided that it was worth her time to check it out.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396728913506387250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCctRqXU3qskpf6Isi2jiaz3ooQELbY57NSv0B2MClVdjW0Fwao9yZ-NLX7I_D46Tp6w5RwlfeyvVTMaKbO6gHmbFgjRWXDQaE3GEv1Uxxi4ceQAhTEFK_FJLceoaAtdbrrP9gx9FWgc/s400/nan1.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Enter Nan<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396730742215785650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uAqcN-aLIgErf3QvDVm8ILjGaa70qW3nORNFXLcFvRIkQdqUU9DW5hPlLV0uWnEzpDAKsqnTvE0B1rRIMYHhEyzW_vCkR1Z7qOneujQOOVl-Bcsmt79qPDTXSHTO92nOhGLP58yNoN8/s400/nan8.jpg" border="0" /></div><p align="center">Nan has been living as a street urchin for a long time now, and has seen several fairs come and go, but they still hold a certain appeal. If she had any extra change, she would probably have spent it on a candy apple, but as it was. . .<br /></p><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396732973432626210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4sTuK6LlG0JKt576UA0o2jMnxhCTEwS-fIEM6PjneQKzd1Zus6VnMtyrF0cUXHNTFIUMr-dqhJ7cuBzwejEhlCSYlBr-jDK8X8plT0_N8uszKPWJfh0OeRjYW3P1VqwAfl_YWnMMw1o/s400/nan7.jpg" border="0" /></p><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><p align="center">Besides being expensive, the rides were too risky. She passed"The Spider", a green, 8-legged spinning machine. The last time it had come through town she'd ridden it, but being so small, she'd almost slipped under the lap bar, a terrifying experience she didn't wish to repeat.<br /></p><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396734508754540018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43hAXymJ-AkZ98NUXSVL0V70jCWyzTyf3dqcuJQGRz7NJmhj7wkjNjmxddYvlI-yyagrzAv_laIalMR0_coEmaecKZYXum7HVSk5zf69iVUeZYhsnel9-mBuIMYJujGv0v5k_H0eXdD0/s400/nan3.jpg" border="0" />Not that she was afraid.</p><p align="center">No- what was scarier was the grafitti left by gangs. Gangs that would stay in town long after the fair had left.<br /></p><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396735566250200962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1FWrJVoF3OsrYgko-EC4_5j8pPcpu6xxkKRG75V1va3tVAitGsSa9FBIswwopJZFuA68cePCp3INUko85uY85njxWoo7Nuf7nEiAxSkfNw9MKmW3OrqZMGzBLOMdlIrDsWDuWQsFmiGU/s400/nan5.jpg" border="0" /> </p><p align="center">At least there were still a few role models to look up to.<br /><br /><br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396736502668702626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3571e5kW97v0CsilzCYxhMl0lYvruWzccUk-3XB1Gsv1EMtt2azFpmDRQaAA8EaTbBrJt7Xpa7p-MraMWQrUIBJ5Q9BAep4Fon0-k-NvXdqXOr4L5Bc7MYOB1HYH_A45YNDBU-Zdj1s/s400/nan6.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396743302798810898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-zHoz3DmtvNl-ufPKPnhk8Hhxh_UMXwJFLQx_ODu3pCPPf0wLVQhcqW7-A1tRXzt0TxC8QASXZDJQ59UkVo9OUNrHTJpaOANSqSnjghyphenhyphent7tJGwpjXdhiSsa_boVzEBSuVSSqIKVPZqg/s400/nan4.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">And a wall of anime! Standing beside it, Nan didn't feel like she was dressed so strangely.</p><p align="center"> </p>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-23294499574427464002009-06-27T20:20:00.001-07:002009-06-27T22:00:00.684-07:00Into the Woods, and a Revelation<em><span style="font-size:85%;">In which the girls stop for lunch, and Charlotte reveals a secret about her past</span></em><br /><div></div><div><br /></div><div align="center">It was getting on toward late afternoon. The girls had just made a stop at a local farmer's market and picked up enough food to make a picnic lunch.<br /></div><div align="center">The day had turned sticky and hot, so they took a break in the shade of a leafy tree.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352215886266094818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGyttIO_GEuV9031izM7qGqD0sXb3AB_S2PxZ4W-pB0Rp7pMFYccWn8WPzqcLjKHIpR6TueiJ3VB1clGjagN8hDPFNYG9YbB76emoEx565pnpwA4Z0ItLeFi2VwQNIJ-TGZwVDPwmmhrU/s400/05-21-09+075.jpg" border="0" /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">"</span><span style="font-size:100%;">It's about time for lunch isn't it?" Charlotte asked. </span><br /></p><p align="center">Colette agreed that it was.<br /></p><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkrbs8jMTWeDECplcj5FavAa2zXomQhj3q8zWIRZ7-Ywsq5OdLI0VPbPy5DPH9s5AHWyT07-1C2Bt92eI6e3c73EcJ1ChmYmo83TsLcL_FZ9eAb4fhFnmuuQQtifXTKr539vNxB5hinU/s1600-h/05-21-09+070.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352219524172457938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkrbs8jMTWeDECplcj5FavAa2zXomQhj3q8zWIRZ7-Ywsq5OdLI0VPbPy5DPH9s5AHWyT07-1C2Bt92eI6e3c73EcJ1ChmYmo83TsLcL_FZ9eAb4fhFnmuuQQtifXTKr539vNxB5hinU/s400/05-21-09+070.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"It's a pity we didn't think to bring a tea service with us," she remarked. "Then we could have had a lovely afternoon tea. As it is, we'll have to make do with this cherry pie."<br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352217186044167650" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr3TJMebnkk2HoFUR7Li7m0zQKLSP_LcgrkQSVwNcutOXgAzPCp8Woqa44XPa1FMZWwyIieOeQNADs0Jd7ZPRq2GJeiTO9Ar9_td2yR89sUoGM9miK1bxDyBzeOSOYc2f8S-QMj3vqzAg/s400/05-21-09+071.jpg" border="0" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Charlotte unpacked the basket. There wasn't much. Besides the cherry pie, which was had been an impulse buy and would provide no lasting nutritional value, they only had a loaf of bread with sesame seeds on top.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She began to worry. The plan to run away from the boarding school could have been better executed, she thought. In fact, it would have been nice to have actually <em>had </em>a plan.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPBpsFA0YOU22WtnP7inP_qhDfsnzAgTWcwwtCyJ-gQy6hsCjoSmD8TzYzvblklZV8SQmkvoU3B19z2knXm_3jkYM9BK3Qc_ztMy5qGHbJLVNqxp0q23TZPPhKlHxlN1J9L45sChxBJQU/s1600-h/05-21-09+073.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352226051377550306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPBpsFA0YOU22WtnP7inP_qhDfsnzAgTWcwwtCyJ-gQy6hsCjoSmD8TzYzvblklZV8SQmkvoU3B19z2knXm_3jkYM9BK3Qc_ztMy5qGHbJLVNqxp0q23TZPPhKlHxlN1J9L45sChxBJQU/s400/05-21-09+073.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>"How much money do you have left?" she asked Colette. "I didn't bring any except for what was in my pockets. And most of that we spent at the Farmer's Market."</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh, I don't carry money," Colette replied. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, that's not good news," Charlotte said, but this didn't have any effect on Colette. Moneyless, she seemed perfectly happy to be sitting in the shade with the prospect of eating half a cherry pie still ahead.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>"We can always get in touch with out parents when we're ready," she said. "Shall I cut the pie or will you?"</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"On that subject, Colette, there's something I should tell you," Charlotte started.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">"Don't worry; I've never been very good at cutting pies either," she smiled. "But we don't have a knife today, so we'll just have to use our fingers."</div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiwjPUcSp7YWkSUA7_9uMSQRSRBWqdBpGO7IwGhqkXe4FE162O43Ng88KKLpXaMrzvMNWqpb2K-nBVWqw5jhhcKLHYhvUS9O1vZUBluhyphenhyphenTweoQjRI0DLEkty5If5T4-A-Nqz0LHyOBA4/s1600-h/bwchar.jpg"></a></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiwjPUcSp7YWkSUA7_9uMSQRSRBWqdBpGO7IwGhqkXe4FE162O43Ng88KKLpXaMrzvMNWqpb2K-nBVWqw5jhhcKLHYhvUS9O1vZUBluhyphenhyphenTweoQjRI0DLEkty5If5T4-A-Nqz0LHyOBA4/s1600-h/bwchar.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352230542888283170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 72px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiwjPUcSp7YWkSUA7_9uMSQRSRBWqdBpGO7IwGhqkXe4FE162O43Ng88KKLpXaMrzvMNWqpb2K-nBVWqw5jhhcKLHYhvUS9O1vZUBluhyphenhyphenTweoQjRI0DLEkty5If5T4-A-Nqz0LHyOBA4/s400/bwchar.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">"I don't have any parents," Charlotte said.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"No parents!" Colette exclaimed. "Why not?"</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"I don't know," Charlotte said. "But I do have a sister. She lives in the city. Her name is Gavin, and we need to find her."</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Colette shrugged. "It's up to you," she said, and then added. "I didn't know, about your parents. I'm sorry."</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Charlotte didn't have much to say. Everyone was sorry, including her. But what needed to be done now, was to finish lunch, and find Gavin.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-3826181185108798092009-06-25T14:36:00.000-07:002009-06-25T15:21:56.996-07:00Who's Who on the 4th Story<strong>The stars of this blog are as follows:<br /></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHP81-VvZh2Uzcl1oDFOI5iHUVSx2O6dsyc7l8vZljy9ROUEaXaZMHTZQgswm1iKs1y-yNP_T1Vae42g33MSkamBE1J1vwC2Z_ZZ_JWCMkGpVeHxOl1aihx9Tawki1giYWL3lOOayez4/s1600-h/Gavin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351389862456881714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHP81-VvZh2Uzcl1oDFOI5iHUVSx2O6dsyc7l8vZljy9ROUEaXaZMHTZQgswm1iKs1y-yNP_T1Vae42g33MSkamBE1J1vwC2Z_ZZ_JWCMkGpVeHxOl1aihx9Tawki1giYWL3lOOayez4/s400/Gavin.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Gavin,</strong> <span style="font-size:85%;">a Dynamite Girl by Integrity Toys</span>, doesn't just have her finger on the pulse of the high fashion scene, she's the <em>heartbeat</em> of high fashion, or at least, she likes to think so.<br /><br />Always casting an appraising eye on the outfits of others, Gavin can either make you feel like you've got it all together, or like you should run back to your room and change into something else.<br /><br />Bold and decisive, she usually accomplishes all that she sets out to do. She runs a small fashion studio out of her loft apartment. The studio has gained some local recognition, but Gavin has bigger plans for it in the future.<br /><br />Gavin is confidence embodied. If she has a weak spot, we don't know it yet.<br /><br /><br /><p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYcQ0DV0On7FbhjMA3nVf4-5CnwMYkTaBUHJ2qlNdSVhCbEr6R16PLdQgr0D1YGEtUMDGV6QI8Ew7kpaqFE3C8NTBf6kANHQ8F_lW3g97hd328IMNLTiMsY91Be0pQ2suoKMzuekL73c/s1600-h/Sooki.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351387217238684578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYcQ0DV0On7FbhjMA3nVf4-5CnwMYkTaBUHJ2qlNdSVhCbEr6R16PLdQgr0D1YGEtUMDGV6QI8Ew7kpaqFE3C8NTBf6kANHQ8F_lW3g97hd328IMNLTiMsY91Be0pQ2suoKMzuekL73c/s400/Sooki.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sooki</span>,</strong> <span style="font-size:85%;">a Dynamite Girl by Integrity Toys</span>, is the quiet type. She is sentimental and takes time to look at things in great detail.<br /><br />With such a sweet look to her, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sooki</span> has learned that more often than not, people are more willing to do things for you if you convince them that it was their idea to begin with. A bit of a manipulator, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Sooki</span> nonetheless finds time for friends, and knows when and just how far to push them.<br /><br />We believe she is waiting for a Prince Charming, but there is no one on the horizon at this point.<br /><br />Currently, she is living with her friend's fashion apartment/design studio. Since the two girls wear exactly the same size <span style="font-size:85%;">(imagine!),</span> she is often the stand-in model for Gavin's creations. She has never complained about this.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HLglrIFuDoCSFbsSeRttkmQFBOoYZ0VUon6IvlrZhwLr7NyuMxITQomhjkUg3pVviqmiiP5yMk_6oeRFoYZfTe52TckKOoz8ftkvae45gWHetjmtBXIBzcGimz84DpCVQIwSe6mJEQY/s1600-h/Charlotte.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351385118134247618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HLglrIFuDoCSFbsSeRttkmQFBOoYZ0VUon6IvlrZhwLr7NyuMxITQomhjkUg3pVviqmiiP5yMk_6oeRFoYZfTe52TckKOoz8ftkvae45gWHetjmtBXIBzcGimz84DpCVQIwSe6mJEQY/s400/Charlotte.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><strong>Charlotte, </strong>originally a "<span style="font-size:85%;">Jun" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Juku</span> by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Jakks</span> Pacific, </span>is a drama queen, with a knack for stirring up trouble and then finding ways to extricate herself (and hopefully anyone else involved).<br /><br /><br />This photo is a perfect example of Charlotte: movie star style and mischief combined!<br /><br /><br />Charlotte and Colette met in their boarding school, which they escaped only recently. Charlotte may be a little older than Colette, but not by much. And we all know that age is not always an indicator of maturity.<br /><br /><br /><br />Even with her quirks, Charlotte is a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">fiercely</span> loyal companion and is so resourceful, you'd want her along if you had to be stuck on a deserted island.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCytlh75cYXWY8vvjTBsQ4xJagyIeUOfo5W588XKSI_mHQTdB2nlbPihIOCM8ICH8u3EfQS612P3yC7BWEurcw1wAZ27iO1oKpd3yFkCuJoZBP5Mp-Va3Vlt74PaBt9tPqqcVsFfmxgo/s1600-h/Colette.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351383134504944754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCytlh75cYXWY8vvjTBsQ4xJagyIeUOfo5W588XKSI_mHQTdB2nlbPihIOCM8ICH8u3EfQS612P3yC7BWEurcw1wAZ27iO1oKpd3yFkCuJoZBP5Mp-Va3Vlt74PaBt9tPqqcVsFfmxgo/s400/Colette.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>Colette</strong>, originally a "<span style="font-size:85%;">Hayley" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Juku</span> by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Jakks</span> Pacific</span>, is the youngest of the bunch. She likes frills and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">girly</span> things as they suit her bright blue eyes and yellow hair better than other clothes.<br /><br /><br /><br />She is usually very <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">tightlipped</span>, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have her own ideas about things.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sweetnatured</span> and calm, she loves to throw tea parties and apply lipstick.<br /><br /><br /><br />Her makeup <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">palette</span> is inspired by her favorite page of history: the 16<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">th</span> century. She simply adores the Rococo dresses, immaculate makeup, shoes, accessories, and did we mention the dresses?<br /><br /><br />We have yet to find out what really makes her tick. . .Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-77993100316596469502009-06-17T21:30:00.000-07:002009-10-25T20:37:20.358-07:00Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-52649511138872379592009-05-28T20:55:00.000-07:002010-06-27T13:53:49.159-07:00Escape From the Boarding School - Part 2<div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 297px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348517316691055762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqktjtwSIgr2t3rk5kP4a8t6TDMo-MAhH6HRvq_EBqKf4d5WByhlnPJooxVYCYvos37lEAAlKkJ_FwOoLbJLCxDkDwzEB0QiOxqCmwOWUXWmPysnhow9t3bd74x8KbgxkhUnL8hgdJZo/s400/05-21-09+058.jpg" /><br /><br /><div><div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Escape From the Boarding School - Part 2</span></strong><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center">Once the girls were safely out of the town where their horrid boarding school was located, they found a nice spot in the woods to rest. The restrictive and stuffy school jackets were shed, and they enjoyed taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the woods.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4nObIvy14e-6mMRIRyrho2S-5jWC7N63hKf_7M5MjOvhA_1olyvSS0TWh2PCcjr69qK7pj6zW0E91VgKBJ7EWIqUEDVN7UGKrHPVbqukVnjArXvcQJM_P9xIze2_GHtkAg1pB4E4OpE/s1600-h/05-21-09+022.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341090454890179282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4nObIvy14e-6mMRIRyrho2S-5jWC7N63hKf_7M5MjOvhA_1olyvSS0TWh2PCcjr69qK7pj6zW0E91VgKBJ7EWIqUEDVN7UGKrHPVbqukVnjArXvcQJM_P9xIze2_GHtkAg1pB4E4OpE/s400/05-21-09+022.jpg" /></a>"My tights itch," Colette noted.<br /></div><div align="center">"At least they look fashionable," Charlotte replied, sadly looking down at her own black and white zebra striped socks. "Mine look like I broke out of prison!'<br /></div><br /><div align="center">"Well, we practically did!" Colette exclaimed.<br /></div><div align="center">"True," said Charlotte.</div><br /><br /><div align="center">They continued on their way. Sometimes the going was tough. Once Colette fell into the ditch. Luckily Charlotte was able to pull her out.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346171606230311170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEDRnXwJ9fR0PVDCkRphgoN5nucgyXZSU5Uas6KSKsBOziaYyx_CiZZcC16zHYTeSaKTNyRg8nIx_xQDTkt0WrdG_FFcjauRzKEgs5rpjDolsHUubO8sSEXgXot6DsNKR4nQ4NRRLZgw/s400/05-21-09+026.jpg" /></div><br /><br /><div align="center">Other things they saw on their trip<br /></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346172531774514946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNzQ_7uLTmV8Yp0KpUnvXh9AtxT_nzdYs5cKGBl1h5NfB8vQq3w-kV_i-wHiBkazn0JVqzcCwRRW3Qv33iJXDteJZ7y0Hg5HrIs9xoJXhLGJKfrvLUu63ke3vFY3397GGSOi_KREbeIM/s400/05-21-09+029.jpg" /> A spaceship</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348514396566879186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJBT1wvnJVY97nfncfOGW_Jboh7Bj0ToOFdTuauw2AEKK2lxoMXNWXCPaUesJMrlvxoR9vk-3HYV02wGS7XQgc4hT9zHLu_DRcTWqA3tgXlcq5QEhh48A3-eEZbJf70Cihdel9C2Xs08/s400/05-21-09+046.jpg" /><br />A friendly horse. . . </div><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348515099199022994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1Ae0aVeirGSMmfOQZwwcvME79eR88xcRxT0kbP_pgyAdyt4NDozb1YUG26ltU_KOgsFyvG_RNBXErAE5bFQeYGALhzWbLGoennJmQNmkkQaGmSBr80ZjU_AqcZOBt1ijac6V4lfrIes/s400/05-21-09+047.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348515973557938610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6iQ43w_0b8cGkMdkJ_XyIn_GAu4NfVWRo9IkzU0u2LaEnxb_gHy1cnLJIy0xJtn2Jmml8Z_hgX4VCXjLG8OBNt6XD5oJb7Xek09JTv-OZRrsd6PdbWJqoieCO84fmjEeuektWOJtwLM/s400/05-21-09+059.jpg" /></div></div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 276px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348516550604389986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6DN7hrHPP0IbI_7HG5YitwxrCyWUrIawSjA-HEfj_fSzPuFwUQyoHtOhbEXzgm3NoYmPnGCuP_ZygNyoV3QJermJobJPPCHtZsoBikXVuF7c9Ohu49MlRLxybrJihS74-LlcUdDiTngc/s400/05-21-09+062.jpg" /><br />Charlotte soon tamed the horse into letting her ride it.<br /></p><p align="center">Soon they were back on the road again</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348517992469666834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CZ5L7fUJwKwuEeqN0cqEycCgpQwVT3YxazYpMgmn2Aw1SrFDmlqa1NuPih1jfNwKc30V7P5HYsb6ffqIJ4mIMyzSzz8_6gNx-xN2HeIZ_C7l8HaR8HkghdYTxahWtgFNtlu_SbXZXq8/s400/05-21-09+037.jpg" /><br /><p align="center"></p><br /><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348518831644336754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDuasdZLy9YuBU94DgSlzObqk3cmCcdLLhWnixxR4ksO0mJAlqxmkFcR7nMXaD9KwFBiykcwX_GTO9bfEq0NQk4eioHvkunipIVX6OkkLiQ-5QRRd5PPuLBJLYjhg5uQBVvdPkWtqUksA/s400/05-21-09+034.jpg" /></p></div>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-88299689026812699282009-05-26T12:40:00.001-07:002009-05-26T13:52:08.744-07:00Escape From the Boarding School<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Charlotte and Colette Escape From the Boarding School</strong></span><br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center">It was a day like any other for Charlotte and Colette. They had been up since an unearthly hour doing various boarding school type activities.</div><div align="center"><br />It was now their lunch break, and they took up their usual place by the fence, and proceeded to mope about their current school situation. They gripped the iron bars and stared out into the great, wide world.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340223483016584546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XrzY9U26l5n4zpbXi6m1UMKRrpVNpzzajQjYs1gJKE8OvMKLML-AcDNj4ZsXORHTa-GNLGq_Frt_VDyGl57LwlfMSylFXSFtYY9ZZ8a_l-cEeP7II5k6qTvkueefP8usESXd0_TiaFw/s400/05-21-09+007.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />"If only we didn't have so very many years of schooling left," Colette mumbled.<br /></p><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">"If only our parents had homeschooled us and taken us <em>with</em> them on their world travels!" said Charlotte.</div><div align="center"><br /><em>(As far as we know, Charlotte and Colette are not related, though they do bear an eerie resemblance to one another, and all that Colette is missing from her name is "har" before she could become another "Charlotte".) </em></div><div align="center"><br />After a few more minutes of commiserating, the girls stood up. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">"It's probably time to go back in now," said Colette. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">"No!" shrieked Charlotte. "I'm never going back!"<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340222562714826914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7buc-0dscj0Sd4_8M8NOHEd02aB-fBAqTx_d_a6bHGzpmv9SjIoLjGUnecw77gcuEyOOsNe5O9Alo1TAzmWNdD5NNoUG0cNHak8iI7nWbMfdVj0_sx6ndrSBWid850EpX22JBvbvpa4/s400/05-21-09+008.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div align="center">She began to climb the fence. Colette hesitated, but only for a moment, and then she was scaling the fence, as well.</div><div align="center">Weakened by too much time spent indoors studying, the girls had to stop and rest at the top of the fence.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340225505249770338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqRa9MX4KRwI11L8pLF4c7mq5nd3CWbIKTSfTNqQATWcyq4-X-gYAaB489WE-DfH3wkoka7XqHv1XTZBFPs9nF4g2H2VsY1hfhDQIVBm-zT3-y5-MEYMGhab6VYnm_JWAy7mJ44WOfJA/s400/05-21-09+009.jpg" border="0" /><br />After a short rest they climbed down the rest of the way.</p><p align="center">"Freedom!" they shouted, and began to kiss the dirt. This soon proved unsavory, however, and, spitting sand and gravel, they stood up.<br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340227484105662674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bO14cg-cjJsntZino49Z-lVrJBq8TiDUjMa4Fj5FA6O6C5SOlUC8w0qaaFNSKc51xGU1BQ6BsR_-m0_0xOXz5AmnpAcaNVc4rZhXzvFXcrRo9ATWe3tHiweiNdow3dWKTLqf8WPwJTM/s400/05-21-09+017.jpg" border="0" /></p><div align="center"><br />"This way!" cried Charlotte. A natural born leader, Charlotte usually was the one to take charge, and Colette was usually content to follow.</div><p align="center">It wasn't long until the girls were missed at the boarding school. In fact, they were missed as soon as they didn't answer the roll call after lunch break. They heard the squeal of rubber tires on the road and knew without a doubt that one of the school's big red patrol trucks was coming after them. This in itself was an exceptional feat since the road was a dirt road, and tires generally do not squeal on dirt.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340229234983841666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzAgQjvyM_-6CMwlAzB7EOH7LSNDGpMkO4nJ6u6OiKRH_Wf7653v0OX3_XkoHFzpLOEYvaE3872Q65MVR114HWcZ1AVhpVaqZthyphenhyphen_chxOgSeB_wrO6g3zk8HnJicNtFfzNSM_Ubat3-E/s400/05-21-09+019.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Sure enough, a gargantuan red patrol truck came tearing around a bend on the road. The girls jumped from the road just in time, and the truck passed by, leaving them choking in a cloud of dust and grit.</p><p align="center">"Looks like we can't follow the road," Colette observed.<br /></p><br /><p align="center">"We'll have to find another way," Charlotte agreed.</p><p align="center">Fortunately for the girls, there was a nearby riverbed which had dried up several months ago, and they were able to follow it without risk of being seen from the road.<br /></p><p align="center"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340231111459551074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtjy9vn30AYOTaTLdMs_okhs2QVPYkFORV3JEhAQfNpDITF0g4MoY_ptagbE4sjwi9ZqPnPt6k_aqaLLM0jsHUCgIiJjASAGn5vNYg70DC51lr3jhzvLwFFNgehqxr0pht7M7TERWEhE/s400/05-21-09+013.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center">Charlotte found an interesting boulder along the way, and stopped to study it.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340232112793739474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Bcjna6T-NMD7yyd77vpKgOzErUbzLcLqwxyKShM0nFrFy3KyJv1foTDSDRGdNNq_jFsa7V6ubGgyIgiLCy362JQWTK-uncsBPHYZk7ZKr7nXHA8r_PVj7U5h6dwPgPVb-N91DrkgPP8/s400/05-21-09+014.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center">"Conglomerate," she announced. "Looks like Geology was good for something."<br /><br /></p><p align="center">"For what?" asked Colette.</p><p align="center">"I think it's safe to get out of the riverbed now," Charlotte said, changing the subject.<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340233094204506210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgq-8lISiZoCxwey8JMz2GcVktKUDIYVEjIusBKsrjwX-w9Nljr9EXONn1VKuk1fN81A6btfUCvev1Iud7DpjY_8ogqd5soePlFfYSCDH73tMqAOtYbeuhDzrdc2b0iSz3HPkJrcwMXr8/s400/05-21-09+016.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">The girls left the riverbed. Where their adventures would take them next, they had no idea, but neither of them minded that.</p>Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915693413029198336.post-45559040327882980262009-05-26T12:37:00.000-07:002009-05-26T12:40:11.118-07:004th Story DollsI am a doll collector with limited space to display my collection. Currently, my girls are living on the top of my bookshelf, which has 3 shelves. Hence, they must be living on the 4th Story. :)<br /> Enjoy your tour through their world!Pensive Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001271708435433750noreply@blogger.com0