Narnia Writing Mga Nobela at Kwento

A mere 18 year old girl writing a werewolf story with mature and cryptic scenes. But I did, I finished it, I made it and outdid myself. Even while I was writing the ending, I felt like crying while I typed the words that were coming inside my mind, I never knew that I would be able to pull this through, end it and somehow outdid myself. Create a whole new world through my words and imagination.

I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to all of you who took their time to give my story a chance. It is my very first written work and it means so much to me that I was given the opportunity to share my imagined world of fairies in a version that combines contemporary and fantasy. Thank you for joining Arianna and the rest of my characters in their journey to the world of fantasy and reality. I hope my characters would stay in your memories forever as a source of inspiration as well as an escape from the bustles of daily living.

The scent of rebirth and damp earth clings to the air. A small child skips alongside her, barefoot, red curls bouncing. “Lady Nya,” the girl chirps, “what does this word mean?” She holds up a scrap of paper with a faded rune. Nya bends, studying it. “That’s not a word,” she replies. “It’s a memory.” The girl squints. “How can a memory be written?” Nya smiles. “With truth. And time. And sometimes, fire.” “They once tried to make me into something clean…”

Alora let out a deep sigh. "It's been quite a day, huh? I think this is enough for me for a lifetime. Thank you very much. Narnia was way PG, a fighting squirrel was cute. There's nothing cute about any of these bad boys coming at you. I cannot count how many times my life flashed right before my eyes," she said, gesturing. Evanore gave her a side glance. I did the same and we all burst out laughing. "I must see this Narnia," Evanore said.

“I… Well, it’s stupid, really. Not even really a dream—” “Nathan! Spit it out!” I urged as I nudged him with my elbow. He grinned sheepishly. “Alright, alright. When I was younger, I wanted to write books. More specifically, I wanted to write children’s books. And I wanted to… illustrate them, too.” At Nathan’s confession, I felt my eyes widen slightly. “Really?” I blurted out. “Nathan, you’ve never told me this.” He shrugged indifferently and took my hand, guiding me away from the painting we were standing in front of and onto a different one. We passed into another room, which contained more contemporary pieces of art.

I then resolved to shoot for the sky even when I have no competition to motivate me. "What are you writing?", I asked, trying to feel less awkward. "I'm writing a story on Wattpad, "The Battle of Wits: War Against Bullies". Would you like to read it and tell me what you think?, It isn't much. Just an author note and the prologue, which I'm writing that I want to publish tonight". "The title sounds cool. I would have asked for the synopsis if not that I don't like spoilers or anything that looks like it. I'm on Wattpad, so I'll read it and drop my review for you in your DM"

However, that feeling of guilt from giving up and letting those 2 or 3 readers who are patiently waiting for the next chapter or story or series is unbearably worse. That’s what my pseudonym, Narnia Resident No 5 or Fifth Narnian Resident, is all about. As someone who fell in love with Narnia and the entire Narnian series, I made it my goal to help you feel as though you have been transported to a dream world where no one can hurt you nor can time touch you. An escape from reality is something I believe you might need especially if you’re stressed. In this story, the world was Pasiphae and Ceres.

The name of this town was not helping but she had to trust Nana's judgement. Nana had always wanted Kehlani to write a fantasy fiction. She was a great fan of fantasy fiction and this was something Kehlani could never understand. Why an Old woman would love to read about unrealistic things like Vampires, Werewolves, Elves, and other creatures that could be depicted in those gory novels what what she could never understand. Weren't the older ones more inclined to reality?

In order not to waste time, he opened his book; The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. He was once again transferred to the world of Narnia, where his dreams were laying. He took a look at the windows and I saw the snow majestically falling on the ground. He smiled and mumbled to himself, "It's snowing like in Narnia." Some students glanced at him from time to time because they were still not used to seeing such hair colour. Sometimes Jimmy gets angry and takes a chisel, ready to cut it but something strange happens. The chisel breaks into tiny pieces as it comes into contact with his hair. For that, he was condemned to always live like this.

But still, I wrote. This place… this world… it doesn’t offer safety to girls like me unless we become someone else. Do what we’re told and hope it’s enough to get through another day. And I don’t mean this competition. The pen scratched softly across the parchment, each stroke bleeding more of me than I meant to give. But I didn’t stop. Not when I thought of the way Damon had looked at Nora. Not when I imagined what his face would look like if he read this. I wrote until the candle’s light began to flicker low, until the fire behind my ribs softened to something steadier.