Sylvia’s Story (Written 2009)

On the cold, dark, night of September 23, 2001, wizard Leo Luis stared droopingly into his hazy crystal ball, looking for the future.

Leo first saw himself, the most powerful person alive, (there were only three other magic families) but then saw a girl of two years old, that had already learned all the magic and regular schoolwork she needed to know. Leo Luis was terrified. Never in his life had he experienced something so awful. He was determined to get rid of her. He knew who she was, two-year-old Sylvia Green, who lived happily with her parents in a small cottage. He thought it would easier if little Sylvia’s parents were out of the way (kidnapped and put in Slyvott’s Prison that only Leo Luis knew of).

So one foggy night, right before Mr. and Mrs. Green went to bed, (Sylvia had went to bed hours ago) he snuck through the window and gagged and tied up poor Sylvia’s parents and took them away to Slyvott’s Prison, never to be seen or heard from again.

This is my first attempt at writing a powerful fantasy story. Even though it sucks so bad that it’s hilarious, I can’t help feeling sentimental about it. It’s like a baby’s first step. It’s bound to fail, yet it’s the start of a new era—an era of walking.

Don’t be ashamed of your work, even if it is this terrible. You will get better, I guarantee it. You will learn how to walk without falling. You will even learn to run.

But no one is born with the ability to fly.

No one even has the ability to fly.

We are born to grow—physically and mentally and creatively—until we have reached the point where it seems we’ve grown so much we can’t grow anymore. But no one stops growing entirely—at least, not mentally and creatively. We continue to grow right until the day we die.

I am still battling with myself and my writing. I’m always telling myself that it’s not good enough. But I will get better. I know I will, because I have already. This article is living proof of it!
So, fellow writers, do not despair, because in a few years, your writing will be gold.

Sylvia’s Story (Written 2013)

If it had been ordinary for her aunt and her mother to be arguing, Sylvia wouldn’t have been clutching the doorknob of her aunt’s bedroom and listening to their every word. At least, that’s what she told herself when she pressed her ear to the keyhole.
“Caroline!” Arianna Green exclaimed. “You can’t just tell her! She’s my baby!”
“Sylvia’s nearly eleven. She should know why she has never gone to school, never socialized, always protected and petted like a delicate little girl.” That was Sylvia’s aunt Caroline—her mother’s sister.
“Sylvia’s so little!” Arianna sobbed.
“She’s smart. She’s creative. She’s musical. She’s responsible. She’s a LEVEL 4!”
Arianna looked around frantically. “Shh! Don’t say that word.”
“What word?” Sylvia demanded, bursting into the room. “Tell me!”
“You know what, Caroline?” Arianna looked broken. “I don’t care. Tell her. Destroy her life.”
“MY LIFE IS ALREADY DESTROYED!” Sylvia yelled. Meaning, she had no friends. Meaning, that her mom wouldn’t even let her go outside by herself. Meaning, that her dad was always away, on business, and that it was just Sylvia and Arianna at home most of the time, well, when they weren’t on vacation at Aunt Caroline’s.
“Sylvia, you are a Level 4,” Caroline said, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. “Levels do not mean anything to me, because it’s a ranking of magic capability and I don’t like rankings, but I’ll tell you about them.”

Yes, I’m still struggling. I have a long way to go until my fantasy stories are the quality of published fiction. I confess I played with the idea of changing the date of the second Sylvia excerpt to 2012 instead of 2013. It’s true drafted the segment in 2012, but it’s been updated since then…and now the date should be 2015 because I updated it just now while writing this article and it’s still not published author material. But I’m getting there…and with practice, my writing as well as your writing will eventually become a masterpiece.

Be patient, fellow writers, and let it happen naturally—because it will happen, if you’re willing to let it.