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Tagebuch...September...Freitag...15:00h..... letzter Grillabend... Boaahh Klamotten, Arbeitssachen, Akten, Laptop, in die Ecke geschleudert. Hatte schon auf der Fahrt nach Hause, einen Kühlen Blonden im Kopf. Oh ja, ein kalter Kasten Pils am Liegestuhl parat, den Grill auch vorgeheizt auf 180 grad. Spear Ribs und etwas vom Nacken. Auch Steaks vom Haifisch, egal wie teuer. Heute wird nicht gespart sondern aufgetischt. Und es gibt auch Nachtisch. Denn auf der Garten-Terasse, ist heute eine Fete

Behind all your stories is always your mother's story. Because hers is where yours begin. A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts. Today I am writing my mother from inside a body that used to be hers.

I rounded the corner and stopped. All of the prisoners from the war were kneeling on the ground in front of the king, who was pacing back and forth in front of them. Each of them had their eyes focused on the ground. Even the boy’s. “How ironic,” King Baqoure was saying, “You, who praise yourselves on fighting better than any other army, are captured by the very men you say you fear. You, who murder people every day, couldn’t even kill my men. You, who harm your own people, just to ensure your

Elena is Newbie. She is noticed by nobody and nobody notice her. She wants it to change but she doesn't know how to change it. Especially at 4ft 5 and looking like a 9 year old. Then comes Reya who shows her worlds that she could never dream of.

I looked away as the knife jabbed against my throat. This was a bad idea.