Teens magazine of the age, tells about the problems around usAndy BunnyPat, Mar. 4, 2021.

1. An Introduction

Pat is a 12-year-old girl who is going to enter 7th grade. She likes stuffed animals very much.

Andy Bunny is the main character of this story. He is a stuffed bunny - as tall as halfway up a desk. Andy is quiet and likes reading very much. He has recently started living with Pat. Pat claims he has a glass heart.

There is also a red rose. She has a lot of thorns. The rose is very picky and annoying, but Pat and Andy like her very much.

2. A bottle of stars - for you

When I walked quietly into the study, Andy was silently reading a tale about the little mermaid; the rose was slumbering, having her beauty sleep as usual.

Andy looked up at me, ‘*what are you doing here?’ he asked in wonder, ‘And what is that glowing thing in your hands, Pat?*’

‘*I collected a bottle of stars for you, Andy!*’I whispered excitedly, pulling the bottle out from my pocket. There were a dozen or so stars in the bottle, glowing softly in the afternoon sunlight. Some stars were as large as my head, while some of the smaller ones were like my fingernails, which were painted in lavender fingernail polish. They were all butter coloured, some had a shade of lemon, and others had a tint of gold.

Andy’s eyes grew wide, ‘*wow!’ he slowly took the glass bottle, afraid to break it, and put it up on the little white desk, ‘this is a natural lamp! Thanks, Pat.*’

I smiled, sitting down on the lilac sofa, and started to read the tale of Cinderella.

3. Flying paper airplanes and blowing dreams

The tiny study was full of fresh morning air and bathed in golden sunshine. The scarlet rose was relaxing by the large window, ‘*today’s a good day to go out and fly paper airplanes.*’

Andy was lying on the soft sofa, ‘*But I don’t know how to. Let’s just stay home, Pat.*’

‘*Don’t!’ groaned the rose, ‘I’m going to die if I stay here another second!*’ she stared angrily at Andy, who trembled a little.

So we went out to the backyard. I got a stack of vividly coloured paper.

‘*Help me, Pat.’ Andy was folding nowhere, ‘I can’t do it.*’

I nicely showed him how to fold a tiny paper plane. He failed, crumpling his blue striped paper, tears dripping down his face. The rose looked at him with dismay, and then kept on enjoying the spring breeze. I comforted him and taught him again.

This time he managed to fold an airplane. When the stack of paper was done, we blew our wishes on it, letting it disappear with the wind.

Teacher’s comments:

This is another very nice and original piece of narrative writing, Pluvia. This could develop into a very pleasant series of short stories too.

Western NovelsTHE SINPluvia, Feb. 4, 2021.

Chapter 3 $\quad$ A Woman

Shawn quickly unbolted his pistol and put it next to John’s head, he whispered, ‘Show m’ ter ya house and let em’ be at home!’

John cackled and rasped, ‘Ya know cops are near here.’

‘I’ve killed before, an’ I can kill ‘gain.’ Shawn scowled, his eyes a deadly black, like pools of rattlesnake poison.

John sighed, ‘Righto.’

They went on, with old John staggering and lagging behind, but Shawn’s eyes were as sharp as a vulture’s, and he never let the old frail man out of his sight.

A white house gleamed in the distance*. John suddenly whooped and ran toward the house. Shawn fired.

The bullet hit its mark. Old John fell down, lifeless as a tractor. ‘Your choice.’ Shawn did not feel a bit of remorse, he just quickly buried old John in the sand.

He went on trudging along with his old horse. Hot winds and flying sand reared him off course, and he could not see through the heavy morning mist. But finally he arrived at the white front porch, dusty and coughing. He kicked open the door, and found a woman sitting on a chair right inside.

She had bright azure eyes and chestnut brown hair. There were some freckles by each side of her graceful nose. Her red lips were a little too big, but still pretty. She was the spitting image of the hunting Diana. Her long shirt-dress was gray and made with new cloth e. She was sewing another shirt-dress by a small wooden table. A streak of warm sunlight slithered through the window and trimmed her with gold, making her seem much like the holy mother, Maria.

‘O! Where’s pa? He was just out hunting.’

Shawn did not seem to hear. He fell in love with this young woman on the spot. He loved everything about her, her smell of fresh jasmine, her sparkling blue eyes, her freckles…

‘I dunno.’ He lied, ‘Wha’s ya name?’

The woman smiled, ‘I’m Connie.’

‘Mine’s Shawn. Can I stay here f’night?’

‘Sure thing! I’m lonely enough.’ Connie patted the seat next to her. Shawn sat, his face reddening, his eyes flashing.

‘You must be hungry,’ Connie smiled shyly, ‘I’ll go get some sandwiches.’ She went off, leaving a trail of fresh jasmine scent.

‘Are you local?’ Connie asked, her sewing set aside now, curiously watching the newcomer. She returned with a plate of sandwiches.

Shawn swallowed a pork sandwich, ‘Yep, m’ folks used ter liv’ here. They wen’ ta California.’

‘I’d like to go there too. I want to go to LA.’ Connie’s eyes flashed excitedly, but then a shadow passed over the sun, ‘pa won’t let me.’

‘Well, I can take ya.’ Shawn was willing to do anything to make Connie smile, ‘We could go t’morrow.’

Connie’s big eyes glowed with excitement and happiness, ‘Really? But whatta ‘bout pa?’

‘I’m sure he’ll do well.’ Shawn believed he would just have to abduct this beauty, take her to LA, and she would be willing to marry him. He would be sincerely happy for a lifetime!

‘Alright!’ Connie was persuaded. The great beaches and the green oaks, the big cities bustling with energy, never ending parties and enthusiastic crowds jeering and cheering. She actually liked Shawn a little too. He was so… manly, she thought. He was the second person she had ever met before besides her father, who never let her go near anything. Now, she was afraid, but also hopeful.

The next day, when the sun burned the sky a buttery yellow and peach pink, they saddled on the old wobbly horse, and rode merrily into the great beyond. They were both thankful for each other appearing in their lives.

But, they were soon going to regret it. This was how the sin began.

(To be continued.)

Western NovelsTHE SINPluvia, Feb. 4, 2021.

Chapter 1 $\quad$ A man

The sun beat down onto the barren red ground, radiating intense heat. The air smelled of burned wood and smoke, a choking odour. The sky was still; no cooling winds, hot and dry like a desert. Cracks slithered for hundreds of miles, splitting the waste land into uneven chunks. Nothing grew between the hardened rocks and sand, only some dried up sprouts here and there.

No trees were visible to the naked eye, and no shade either. Just bare terrain, which went dully on and on for miles. There were hardly any animals inhabiting this place, except for the deadly rattlesnakes, which posed a great threat to the people living here.

Men and women worked as bus drivers, or clerks in the only drug store. Most of the people couldn’t pay their taxes; others clung on only through borrowing money constantly. They lived in cramped sheds lining the horizon, each ten square metres at most. Insects usually crawled on the cracked walls and makeshift cots, leaving behind scratchy bites on the workers’ backs.

A strange newcomer appeared in town one Saturday. He wore old sagging trousers, but his denim shirt was obviously new, with sharp edges. The things that made people look at him twice, were the shining pistol hanging from his worn out belt, and the predatory glare from his beady black eyes, which was like a warning sign s to others. He had a crooked nose and a beard. He seemed young for the latter, which he had grown it into a spike, like a raven’s beak. There was an unnerving scar just by his left eye, a wound made by a sharp blade. Beside him was a skinny, unfed yellow horse, sickly by appearance. It wobbled unsteadily when the man climbed on its bony body, but trotted fine.

He went into the pub, where strong muscular men often gathered for a drink,men not unlike himself. But he walked in; there was not a single hint of fear in his eyes.

A fat man placed himself by the newcomer, his face glowing red.

‘Horse’s yours, ain’t it funny?’ He spat on the cement floor, pointing at the horse outside. ‘Ugliest I’ve ever seen!’

The newcomer growled, ‘Ain’t funny I’m tellin’ ya. Fella last joked of it; I shot him through the stomach. This,’ he pointed at the scar, ‘was made in the fight.’

The fat man gulped. He changed the topic quickly, ‘Why comin’ to this place? Work?’

‘Nah.’ The newcomer narrowed his piercing eyes, ‘just visitin’ m’ folks.’

‘Wanna lift?’

‘Nah.’ He replied again, ‘better be goin’, soon it’ll be sundown.’

He climbed upon the ugly horse, whipping it hard, and disappeared into the afternoon light.

He arrived at the farthest shed, a small one with only barely enough room to hold a family of five. The slanting wooden door was shut, and plaster and paint cracked on the walls, showing the stacked red bricks within. The stone well was almost dried up, abandoning insects and plants that used to thrive in the water. The glass on the windows was cracked.

‘Ma! Pa! I’m home!’ he called out, but no voices answered him. He shouted once more. Still, no answers. He tried pulling the door open, but it was no use. The house had already been abandoned. He then spotted a tattered parchment in dandelion yellow.

‘*Moving out because of money problems!*’ He read through clenched teeth. He sought for years and finally found where his parents had lived, but his whole family had moved to god knows where. Now how could he reunite with his family? He did not know.

He galloped away in the settling darkness, the horse whinnying.

(To be continued.)

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Audentes fortuna iuvat.

Magician cat: If I was Mr. Darcy…

Written by Magiciancat.com

If I was Mr. Darcy…

I have read Pride and Prejudice. Yesterday, my friend accused me of something I did not do. What should I do? I feel just like Mr. Darcy!

                          Catherina, 12

Dear Catherina,

I feel just like you sometimes. For example, last week at school I was accused by my desk mate.
We were doing our homework when suddenly she shouted, ‘Hey! My rainbow pen disappeared! Has anyone seen it?’ We looked around but didn’t find her pen.

I have two rainbow pens of the same kind in my pencil case. My desk mate was asking me to lend her a black pen.

‘Isn’t that my pen? Give it back to me!’ She saw my rainbow pens.

‘No!’ I said angrily, ‘These are mine pens. They are not yours.’ My desk mate started pulling the pen towards her,

‘You already have one! This is mine!’ And then our teacher walked towards us.

We explained the situation to our teacher. Our teacher told my desk mate that I really have two rainbow pens. She said I did not steal my desk mate’s.

But still, my desk mate stared fiercely at me during the whole lesson. At recess, I got an idea. I found my desk mate lying face down on our desk, ‘Here, this is for you.’ I held out one of my rainbow pens. Her eyes lightened up, ‘Thanks!’ And we became friendly again.

So,

You can do these things when being accused of something you haven’t done:

1. Find proof that you did not do it.
2. Look for help from teachers and parents.
3. Apologize to your classmate and comfort him or her.

Ciao for now,

MAGICIANcat studio

Teacher’s comments:

Great job, Pluvia! If only Darcy had your good advice!

Now, the verb borrow is a tricky one. You borrow something FROM a friend, but you don’t borrow TO a friend. In that case, you must use the word lend. Lend is extra useful, because it can be used in both cases (FROM and TO).

• I borrowed a pen from my friend - CORRECT
• My friend borrowed a pen from me. - CORRECT
• I borrowed a pen to my friend. - INCORRECT

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Audentes fortuna iuvat.

Magician cat: topic of today Embarrassment

Written by Magiciancat.com

Jessie: My name is Jessica Brown. Most of my teachers and my classmates call me Jessie. I’m thirteen. I have a little brother, Tom, who is in first grade. Last Monday was the day of the art show. My parents went to our school to see Tom’s and my art. My teachers all smiled and complimented me on my school work. My mom took a photo of me posing next to my first-prize art piece. My parents were really proud. Then everything went out of control. Tom was feeling left out so he started to shout to get our attention. He badmouthed my art piece and said the person in it was like a snoring frog! My mom apologized for my brother’s behaviour, but the next day at school everyone looked at me funny. I felt my face go hot.

Jo: I’m Jo McMillan. I’m twenty-nine and I work in a restaurant as a waitress. One day my friend Cate walked in and saw me working. She started to chat with me and ordered a glass of mojito. Cate gulped down the whole glass and became drunk. She started speaking loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. Then she stood up and started dancing like a rooster on the floor. The customers stared at her in wonder; some even took out their phones to shoot videos. I turned quite red and pulled her out of the restaurant. She was still singing a famous pop song when I pulled her on her bed!

Teacher’s comments:

The quite you use here, is the old-fashioned quite, which actually meant something stronger than quite (haha, confused?). Actually, I told you about this on your previous homework. Better in a modern context to say something like, I turned bright red. This is probably the most common expression in this situation.

Very good, Pluvia. I really like your similes this week, especially the snoring frog! Similes and other expressive language, really can make a piece of writing much more enjoyable for the reader. And if a reader enjoys your writing, they will keep on reading everything you publish. Simple!

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Audentes fortuna iuvat.

Magician cat: My faults

Written by Magiciancat.com

Hello, fellow e-fans! Do you know your own faults? Well, today I am going to share the story of a little girl who is called Aimee (who is based on me :)):

Once upon a time, there was a little village in the rolling green hills. There was a short little girl with messy black hair, living in the tiniest house of the village. Her name was Aimee.

One day, Aimee went to the bakers to buy some whole wheat bread. But she heard some boys laughing at her because of her shortness. Aimee was terribly angry, so she threw rocks at them. The boys were hurt and bleeding.

The villagers thought Aimee was a bad girl. They locked her up and forbid anyone to be friends with her. But, Aimee liked the life of an individual. And even though this did not affect her, she swore to take revenge against the villagers. After three months, she was let out. The villagers sent her to work in a big factory in London. There, Aimee worked hard but was paid little.

Aimee made new acquaintances in the city. She made a lot of friends and was living a good life. But she never forgot about her revenge.

So, three years later, Aimee returned to the village with a new identity: Miss Albert. She investigated in the land and returned to London. After eight years of hard work, she bought the land and forced the villagers to move away. But Aimee did not feel genuinely happy.

She left her work and friends in London and went to the land she had bought. Soon, she became bankrupt and had to sell it again. The new owner gave the land back to the original villagers. One of the boys Aimee had beaten on the street hired her as a maid.

Now, can you find my faults in the story?

Please click here to answer.

Cate: Vengeance?

Josh: imprudence?

Michael: I personally think the fault is resentment.

Micky: I agree with vengeance.

If you want more of Magician cat news and book reports, please go to https://magiciancat.com or https://magiciancatbooks.com.

Teacher’s comments:

Well done, Pluvia. Another very interesting take on the homework assignment. Your story is great. It is nicely presented and of course has a very clear message within.

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Non sum ego qui fueram.

Magician Cat: Pride in Society Research

Written by Magiciancat.com

Aimee:

Some students who have the best grades are very proud, and they show prejudice towards those who were scored lower in exams. They always laugh and sneer at the other students, and I think this is very unfair! More unfair is the fact that the teachers did not do anything about it!

Jaqualeen:

The boys are always playing pranks and telling bad jokes about girls. Our teachers and the girls can’t even stop them. How annoying! And the boys also like to beat the girls up. They say that girls are useless and ugly. Well, I think boys are making too much trouble in the school and they are idiots about boys and girls!

Alice:

Some classmates like to show off their great knowledge by asking others questions which answers they already know the answers to. I hate to be around those ‘good’ students, because they are annoying. Almost the whole class doesn’t want to be friends with them, until our teacher told us not to be prejudiced towards them. Then we started to play games together and borrow their interesting books. It turns out that controlling our own prejudice can make us feel much better.

Tori:

Everybody has a little pride in their hearts. But last Monday one of my classmates (A) had a fight with another student (B). The reason was that B laughed at A’s singing and grades. That day A got 74.5 on our maths test and he was already fuming. Then his pride got hurt more when B laughed at him. So, try not to hurt others’ pride.

Teacher’s comments:

Well done, Pluvia. These are all excellent examples of the type of pride and prejudice we see in schools. Nicely presented again, great vocabulary choices and mostly mistake-free grammar and punctuation.

One thing, we usually say that someone ‘has prejudice towards’ another person, rather than ‘against’ another person.

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Non sum ego qui fueram.

Magician cat blurbs: Jane Eyre, Fahrenheit 451, 1984

Written by Magiciancat.com

Jane Eyre:

Little Jane Eyre lives unhappily in her aunt’s big mansion. One day, she is sent to an institution for girls. What will she experience? Where will she go after she graduates? Can she find out the truth of Mr. Rochester’s past life? Click here to find out.

Fahrenheit 451:

Everything is okay with Guy Montag’s life as a fireman burning books, until he runs into a strange girl. He starts to think twice about his job. He steals a book from a house. Can Montag hide the book from his boss, Captain Beatty? What is Montag’s future? Click here to find out.

1984:

‘We will meet in a place where there’s no darkness.’ O’Brien said to Winston. Winston is an innocent person, until he commits ‘thoughtcrime’. He and his secret girlfriend, Julia, try to rebel against the Party. Meanwhile, early memories from Winston’s childhood life float up on his mind. He actually believes they are successful until they are thrown into the Ministry of Love. Winston is finally made aware of his error, when he wakes up in Room 101, facing the most terrible thing on the Earth… Click here to read more.

Teacher’s comments:

Well done, Pluvia. With a blurb, we tend to use the present tense. Same with a plot summary in a book review. Otherwise, your grammar is all good.

Jane Eyre: This is fine, although maybe use an adjective like ‘mysterious’ or ‘unpredictable’ for Mr. Rochester.

Fahrenheit 451: Also good, just the right amount of information to interest the reader, although you should mention that books are illegal. Otherwise, stealing a book doesn’t seem like much of a crime.

1984: This is good, but maybe a little long for a blurb. Also, you shouldn’t reveal that Winston ends up in Room 101, as this kind of spoils one of the big surprises of the plot (Winston and Julia being caught). Maybe just say something like ‘Winston must strive at all costs to avoid being sent to the notorious Room 101…’

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Inter nos laetemur amantes.
We, co-workers of the website of “https://www.magiciancatbook.com" have invited fans of ours to share their reading experience with our fellow fans.



Magician Cat (｡•́‿•̀｡)

Magician cat meet: 1984

Written by Magiciancat.com

So, what do you think about 1984?

Ashley: Tragic

Tom: Weird

Midith: Elusive

If you must turn into a character in 1984, which would you choose?

Midith: O’Brien.

Why?

Midith: Because he was the least miserable.

[laughter]

Do you like 1984?

Ashley: No, I don’t like sci-fi.

What about Animal Farm?

Ashley: Maybe?

[laughter]

But you like a part of it?

Ashley: I like a part of it.

[laughter]

What do you think about Julia?

Tom: She was a bad girl, she betrayed Winston in the end. I absolutely do not want a girlfriend like that!

Do you think Winston was a bad person?

Tom: Not really, but he wasn’t a good guy either. He’s like one of us, not so good or bad.

Midith: Some readers say that O’Brien was a villian, but I don’t actually agree.

Oh, why?

Midith: He didn’t know what he was doing! He was brainwashed like everybody else. He wasn’t pretending.

If one of your teachers behaved like that and tried to give you loads of homework, what would your classmates do?

Tom: Tie the teacher up and threw throw her into the cellar!

[laughter]

Ashley: but why didn’t the proles do similar things to the party?

Well, they were cheated by their the upper classes. The proles only want to live peacefully. Let’s say that there was a war going on and your teacher gave you a lot of homework. What would you do: tie up the teacher or protect your own safety?

Tom: Protect my own safety.

Yes, and that’s what the proles in the book thought.

Midith: Do the three classes exist in real life?

Yes. You can find many a lot of information on this theme.
Ashley: There were three classes in France before Napoleon took place control. Most countries have similar histories though.

How did you come up with that idea? It’s pretty good.

Ashley: Our history teacher said it in class in another way. He said, ‘most classes have similar bad students!’

[laughter]

Teacher’s comments: Well done, Pluvia. Everything is good here, but I’ve just spaced out the responses and shrunk the text to make it easier to read.

What you say about the characters, being neither good nor bad, is interesting, and is something you could possibly have expanded on.

Teacher’s comments:

Well done, Pluvia. Everything is good here, but I’ve just spaced out the responses and shrunk the text to make it easier to read.

What you say about the characters, being neither good nor bad, is interesting, and is something you could possibly have expanded on.

MagicianCat’s Advice from Roma
Turbam vita!

Prologue learning

We, co-workers of the website of “https:///www.magiciancatbook.com" have invited fans of ours to share their reading experience with our fellow fans.



Magician Cat (｡•́‿•̀｡)

‘You know,’ said Mary to Natasha, ‘you should take horse-riding lessons with me, just at Plum field. You seem to love horses.’

Natasha did not know what to say. She was a skinny girl of 16, with short but curly locks of white-blond hair and fierce green eyes, the image of the hunting Diana. ‘It’s free.’ added Mary.

So Natasha agreed. Neither of them knew then, the contribution that Natasha would make to the future horse-riding competitions.

Chapter 1: A living myth

Sunshine poured into the downtown cafe, Luckin coffee’s shimmering glass windows, forming pools of gold on the wooden tables and chairs. It was noon, the teachers and students of the Spring Field University were having a pleasant lunch break. Three men were sitting together by the window.

‘… and guess what? I read the story of Jackson in the magazine ‘Horse-riding’. She really existed!’ the man wearing yellow talked excitedly. Just then, a man about forty-five burst into the cafe. He approached the three men’s table and fell into a chair. He ordered a cup of coffee. He had bags under his eyes. The other men laughed, ‘ Hard day Rob?’

‘Yeah.’ he answered weakly, ‘you weren’t just talking about Natasha Jackson?’

‘We were!’ replied the man in yellow eagerly, ‘do you know something about her?’

‘Yes, my wife was the daughter of her friend, Mary Collin. She told me about all the records Jackson had set in her lifetime. She disappeared during the horse-riding utimate race. She was only thirty-eight.’

‘Can you tell us her story?’ the man in yellow asked.

‘Okay.’

Teacher’s comments:

Great job, Pluvia. The thing for you to consider is how to make the dialogue more realistic sounding. There is quite a big difference between formal written English, and informal spoken English. For example;

She told me about all the records Jackson had set in her wonderous lifetime of 38 years.

The reason I crossed out these words, is because they don’t sound like natural, conversational English. ‘Wonderous’ is just a bit formal-sounding.

Writing dialogue is a tough skill to master, but keep going; you’re doing very well.