Wooden Wedding Rings

?? Pink Flamingo ?? asked:


Soon Quinn dismounted from his black stallion and knotted his reins to a pole. Caden followed his brother’s actions, then hopped up the wooden steps into the shop. As they pushed open the door, a bell rang, signaling that they had arrived. Caden tried to hide his face by pulling up his cloak. She couldn’t notice him. He’d dressed nicely and slicked back his hair so he looked somewhat different from his ragged old self, but he didn’t plan on the disguise working. This morning it had to fool his father and his brother he wasn’t trying to change his identity and, right now, it had to alter his identity from the lady working at the shop. Most likely it wouldn’t work, but Caden still had to try. Quinn weighed a brightly colored tomato in his left hand and another in his right. Each was plump and ripe. Then with a scowl imprinted upon his face, Quinn laid down the fruit in his left hand and kept the other. The man searched down all the carts in the shop, from apples to yams. The whole time +
Caden was holding his breath in a corner, hoping that the shopkeeper wouldn’t notice him. Finally after Quinn spread out all the fruit, vegetables, and bread on the countertop, the lady turned around and calculated the price.
“That’ll be six coins, sir.” Quinn untied the strings of his purse off of his belt and dug through the little bag, counting them aloud with a whisper. Caden gave his brother an impatient hand motion to get moving. Rolling his eyes, Quinn glared at Caden then handed the money off to the lady.
“Thank you. You had wonderful crops this year. I hope they will be just as good next year, for our family will be looking forward to it.”
“I hope so too. My husband said that the strawberries will be ready in a few more weeks if you would like to get the best of the pick first. An’ at the end of summer, we’ll have some sweet cantaloupe for you to purchase.” She gathered Quinn’s items and tied them in all in a cloth then handed it back to him. “Oh and before you go, tell +
that boy you came in with that if he stole anything this time, he’s mighty stupid to be going back to the same shop in the same week.”
Caden’s cheeks flushed as he gently let down his hood, nervously chuckling.
“I’ll make sure he knows he’s stupid for stealing from you in the first place. Thank you again for letting me even step foot in your shop when he came with me.”
“No problem. You are a sweet young man.” Quinn blushed as the lady patted his hand, and then he skittered out of the shop with Caden behind him.
Outside the horses whinnied and stamped their hooves in the newly made mud as rain bounced off the roof and soaked into the earth. Mothers were pushing their children inside their houses, scolding them for getting their clothes wet and muddy. The wind tossed the rain back and forth, the dark clouds determined to cause chaos. Far back in the hills, lightening struck something invisible, flashing bright orange, then was quickly put out by the soaking rain. +
“Looks like we better wait this one out. I’m sure Father is furious that we weren’t home in time to help lock the horses up.” Quinn smiled gloomily as he forced his eyes to the ground. The mud bubbled and ****** at his boots as the thirsty earth drank all that it was given.
Caden’s small bay gelding made up his mind by stamping his hoof in the mud, splattering it all over the two men. Untying their steeds and leading them into an ally, they waited there for the storm to be over.
The humidity of earlier that morning died down and turned into a bone-chilling freeze. The wind was just as frigid as the icy raindrops that escaped through the roofs above their heads. Caden welcomed the packed bodies eagerly, wishing that the horses weren’t soggier than he was. The smells of smoke, sweat, and rain blended together in the air; the usually abhorrent smell calming to him.

Finished. How does it sound? I am thinking about throwing this novel away….should I restart? Any suggestions?

Create Your Own Wedding Flowers. Step-by-step Guide To Creating Fantastic Wedding Flowers.

roso159 asked:


I’ve seen the movies twice, I’m almost done reading the books, I’ve baked lembas bread, gone exploring in the woods many times with friends pretending we’re in the movies, built the main and supporting characters out of Legos, I have two small posters from the movies, I have Fellowship of the Ring computer game and I’ve played it once, I’m in the process of ordering Return of the King computer game, and I have attempted (hasn’t worked yet) to make a bow and arrows and a target.
I also plan on sewing a cloak (I already have the materials), making a pair of moccasins, and copying a map of Middle Earth onto a large sheet of paper to hang up so I will never forget where each place mentioned in the books is.
I’ve planned all this, and done all that, but I feel like I still am not doing enough to really live in Lord of the Rings. Should I get a large poster? Make a wooden sword (my friends and I just use wooden “staffs”)? Get some action figures? Learn a little Elvish? I would like some good, creative answers from other LOtR fanatics. If it helps, I’m thirteen years old.

Get Fit For Your Wedding - The Only Diet Created Specifically For The Bride To Be.

Globetrotter asked:


I had to walk over a high pile of giant grey pumice-like gravel to get to the entrance. Each chunk was a 2 inch radius of quasi-roundness, making each step a guaranteed wobble. Once I made it to the opening without losing my balance completely, I had to duck my head because the overhead was about a foot too low. There were two flights of steep steps, each about an inch too short, encased by the stone walls of the building. This made for a claustrophobic dare-devil climb. Making it to the door front felt like a small victory, and I wanted to do a little dance - but I controlled myself.

After ringing the bell, it was only a moment before I could hear the double locks being undone. It was the young maid who welcomed me inside by opening the tarnished dark wooden door a bit wider and immediately returning to the laundry.

I had just returned from a short errand to buy a cell phone recharge. This was my friend’s house, and I had already been a guest for a week. It lacked the amenities of an American house, like a smooth sidewalk in a front yard and a proportionate entrance way, yet it felt like home.

This being an Indian household, I removed my sandals at the door where four other pairs of shoes were already lined up – each belonging to a family member. The first belonged to Didi, Hindi for elder sister, my friend Rajiv’s aunt. She was in the kitchen, home on break from her clinic, making roti to eat with lunch. The second belong to Rajiv, my friend, who was in the toilet. The third pair belonged to Mummy, Rajiv’s grandmother, who was in the lounge watching a Hindi soap opera, and the fourth belonged to the maid who was sitting on the floor in the shower stall washing clothes by hand.

The flat was not far from the railway station, and from the lounge window I could see the frequent passing of commuter trains. Better yet was the fact that no matter where I stood in the house, the trains could always be heard. I found this to be a strong selling point because the constant rhythmic passing of train cars had an ethereal calming effect.

In the guest bedroom was a door that led to a small balcony, big enough to sit 2 or 3 chairs. This was my favorite place to hang out. Standing on the balcony and looking below me was a line of squatter housing. It was one long row made from scrap wood and tarps where 4 or 5 families must have lived – each in a makeshift room about 4 and 1/2 meters wide. Rajiv enjoyed throwing the rubbish out onto the tops of the houses. He had no respect for them because they dirtied up his neighborhood and ruined his view. And if they made any noise at night the sounds could be heard vividly in the guest room often because the door was left open in the summer. Otherwise it would be too stuffy.

In India, everyone takes a nap together , so it wasn’t unusual for Didi or Mummy to invite me to lay down beside them in the afternoons once lunch was over and soap operas were finished. It gets so ridiculously sticky hot in the summer that naps are a must if you want to reserve your energy and keep your sanity…

The Complete Intarsia Manual. For Woodworkers Of All Levels - Intarsia Techniques And Info On Tools, Wood Choices, Finishes, Etc., Plus Free Plans.

Brett Yo asked:


It was a really short story, and every page had a picture. I remember there being a girl made of iron, and a bell of some sort was involved. There was a boy who had to help her get somewhere before the bell rang. I also remember there being a bit where there was a wooden bridge going across a dangerous river, and one of them may have fell in. After this a kind old lady took them in for the night. Any help would be appreciated.

Amazing Wedding Planning

{;T :] asked:


I started writing a story and I’d like some advice to make it better or just your opinion on it.
This is only the first chapter. I have another one written.
Any sort of criticism is appreciated.
There is much more to the plot than what the first chapter tells you.

I’ve always been the kind of person to forgive easily.
No matter how grave the situation, I always find myself forgiving and forgetting.
Some people say it’s a good thing, most say it’s a not-so-good thing. And, I suddenly agree with the latter, since, just a couple minutes earlier I realized that my easy forgiveness is what brought me into this –do I dare say?- abusive relationship.
Ending up on the floor with a pounding, aching pain on the side of my head was what, unfortunately, triggered my insight.
Honestly, I’m surprised I hadn’t guessed it was going to happen sooner or later.
For a moment, I felt like I was being hypnotized, just sitting there on the cold, kitchen floor, starring at the wooden legs of the chair in front of me as if it was the light to heaven.
I managed to fidget my eyes to a white floor tile and I immediately became aware of the sounds around me.
The dishwasher that was just a few feet away rumbled endlessly. The noise filled my ears and traveled into my mind as if it was washing my brain.
Brainwashing.
Other then that, the only sound audible was Damien’s heavy breathing from behind me.
My hands, palms down on the floor supported me as I registered everything that happened in the last two minutes.
It started with Damien complaining about something. I don’t remember exactly what.
Work? Food? The dishwasher?
And then it continued with him starting to yell endlessly about whatever it was he was yelling about.
And then, it was me who started yelling because he was yelling.
There was a lot of yelling.
But then, the yelling stopped and I could see his anger rising in his face.
His anger wasn’t the only thing that rose before I received the blow.
Now, here I am, sitting on the floor, raising my right, cold hand to the side of my tense face.
Blinking repeatedly, feeling surged back into my body and I quickly stood up.
This was the first time he hit me, but it felt like the hundredth.
Turning around swiftly I started to walk out of the kitchen.
“Jade, I’m sorry.” Damien’s solemn voice entered my ears as I passed him, though, this time I didn’t feel any need to forgive.
So, instead, I ignored him and walked silently and casually down the short hall of our apartment.
Aiming for my –our- bedroom, I decided otherwise and entered the bathroom, locking the door absently behind me.
My first instinct was to look in the mirror, but I decided not to and turned my back on my reflection.
Sighing, I leaned against the counter, bringing my hands up to the sides and propping myself on top so I was sitting down on it.
I entered another hypnotizing moment as I starred at the white, blinding wall in front of me.
I could feel my frown dig into my face as the last three minutes played over and over in my head.
Shortly, a knock on the door rang, snapping me out of my daze.
“Jade?” Damien voice called from behind the door.
I looked at it expectantly, imagining Damien bursting through it like a beast.
“Jade, I’m sorry.” He repeated his earlier words.
I didn’t say anything and I didn’t want to.
My lips felt sealed together as if the skin was conjoined and my breaths were as soundless as if I wasn’t even breathing.
“I didn’t mean to… h-hit you. I’m just really stressed out these days.” He explained.
I scoffed internally.
Another excuse.
“I promised I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll never yell at you again.”
Another lie.
Peeling my eyes away from the door, I looked to the other side of the bathroom, laying my eyes on the shower.
Jumping down from the counter, I turned quickly and crouched to open the cabinet.
Pulling out a light blue towel, I laid it on the towel holder and started to undress.
I hadn’t missed Damien’s heavy sigh from behind the door and the sound of him sliding down the floor on the other side of the wall.
Stepping into the shower and turning on the water, I put it on as cold as I could handle.

When I was done washing up, I dried off my body and risked a glance at myself in the mirror.
I wasn’t surprised to see the right side of my face –mostly my cheek and eye- turning slightly red and purple.
Looking away, I blindly patted my face dry with the towel.
After wrapping it tightly around me, I picked up my clothes from the ground and rested my hand on the door knob.
I hesitated on getting out, but I had to get out sooner or later.
So, bracing myself I unlocked it and pulled it open.
As suspected, Damien was sitting against the wall on the left side of the door.
Sleeping.
Standing in front of him, I watched as his head lolled to the side, resting on his shoulder with his mouth slightly opened, soft snores escaping his lips every two seconds.
He looked too innocent while he slept that is was too hard believing this was the twenty four year old man who hit me.
It was when his eye lids started to flutter open that I turned around and quickly entered our bedroom from across the hall.
“Jade!” I heard him call before I closed the door.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lock.
So, I quickly grabbed a t-shirt and boxers, changing into them as fast as I can.
I could see Damien’s shadow in the small space under the door and I knew he was standing right in front of it.
I ignored it and lay down in the bed, making sure not to turn on my right side.
I fell asleep quickly.

Oh. Wow. Thank you for all the responses.
I agree with Mike. I think I’m definitely going to develop Damien’s character more.

Here is the rest of it that i wrote. I’m sorry it’s not much, but, I just started this story yesterday night.
If you’d like me to e-mail you the updates then It’d be better if you e-mail me first so that i can save your e-mails.
Thanks for all the feedback.

Here’s the rest that i wrote.

A soft stroking on my cheek is what woke me up in the middle of the night.
I let my eyes slowly open to be met with Damien’s blue ones. We starred at each other for what felt like hours before I picked up the courage to turn my back on him, flinching as I added pressure to the bruised part of my face.
“Jade,” I heard him whisper from close behind me. “I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.” I told him.
“I’ll never hurt you again.” He whispered.
“I know.”
Do I?
A long silence filled the room for a couple of minutes.
“Do you forgive me?”
My eyes shot open.
I starred at the red numbers on the clock that stood on my night table, my lips feeling as if they had sealed shut again.
But, I pried them open.
“I don’t know.” I told him softly, my eyes not leaving the red numbers.
I felt his arm wrap itself around my waist so gently it was as if he thought my whole body was bruised.
Nuzzling his nose into my hair, I heard him inhale my coconut shampoo.
“I love you.” He breathed.
Tears finally started to brim my eyes.
His lips, warm and soft, connected with the soft spot under my ear, trailing down my neck a couple of times, then trailing up and resting in my dark hair.
“So much.” Damien added.
Moisture fell out of my eyes as I struggled not to sob.
And scream.
I wanted to scream at him so much right now.
How can he love me? After what he did, how can he love me?
I guess he knew I was crying when his hand came up to brush away my tears.
His right hand.
The cage I struggled to close over my aching chest opened and soft sobs were finally set free.
Cautiously yet quickly, Damien turned me around so that he cradled me against his chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He repeated over and over again that the words practically started to lose its meaning.
After a few seconds, I realized the situation and pushed his chest roughly away.
“I can’t.” I said before standing up.
“Just, leave me alone for tonight.” I told him before walking out of the room.
Opening the hall closet, I grabbed an extra pillow and blanket and made my way to the living room.
Settling myself on the couch, I closed my eyes but sleep didn’t quickly appeal to me.
Though, I still kept my eyes closed, letting the cage lock back onto my chest. I ignored the crusty feeling of my dried tears on my cheeks and the battered feeling on the side of my face and listened to the sounds around me.
The dishwasher was no longer running, making Damien’s curses and manly sobs comprehendible from the end of the hall.
I squeezed my eyes tightly together and started to hum tunelessly.
The cage on my chest struggled, yet again.

Wedding Planning Secrets. How To Have Your Fairytale Wedding On A Shoestring Budget.

Craig N asked:


I am trying to identify a book I once read. Actually, I believe it was a series of books in which a boy had to track down six magical rings. I seem to remember from the description the rings were described as having crosses in the middle. Anyhow, they were each made of different materials (glass, wood, iron, and three others I can’t remember), and the rings posessed some kind of magical powers. The boy’s name was William, I believe, or something similar, and he was pursued by some kind of evil that wanted to collect the rings for itself. Something special happened when all six were connected together. If anyone could help me identify these books, I would be eternally grateful. Thank you.

The Complete Intarsia Manual. For Woodworkers Of All Levels - Intarsia Techniques And Info On Tools, Wood Choices, Finishes, Etc., Plus Free Plans.