Ok, here's what to do:
Take your favorite book's title and write a short story based completely on the title. You can use the same characters or not; it all depends on you. Short, long, skinny, fat, whatever. Be outragous.
Title: Pawn of Prophesy (spoiler)
Garion sat, staring at the board, deciding his next move. Belgarath sat across him, thrumming his fingers on the table as he impatiently waited for the young boy to move.
"Hurry up will you? I haven't got all century. I got rocks to steal and wars to start."
"Well, if you quit peatering me every minute I'd move. Besides, what's a minute to you?
"Time I could be spending getting drunk." He sighed grumpily. "If only your Aunt Pol weren't so stubborn."
Garion shook his head. Looking back down at the board, he made a decision. Reaching out, he picked up a pawn and moved it two squares forward. As he let go, however, a voice squeked somewhere near his hand.
"You're going to be king and you can't even play chess."
Garion withdrew his hand in surprise.
"Grandfather? Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"The pawn just said that I was going to be king."
"When did you start to read minds?"
"No, you misunderstand, the pawn said it."
"You mean that wasn't me thinking that?
"No. It was the pawn." He paused, confused. "Pawns can't talk though."
"Of cvourse they can."
"But it's impossible!"
"Nothing's impossible. You're just being stubborn again...like your aunt."
"But did you hear what it said!"
"It's true you know."
"I'm going to be king?"
"Well, that too. I was referring to your chess skills."
Take your favorite book's title and write a short story based completely on the title. You can use the same characters or not; it all depends on you. Short, long, skinny, fat, whatever. Be outragous.
Title: Pawn of Prophesy (spoiler)
Garion sat, staring at the board, deciding his next move. Belgarath sat across him, thrumming his fingers on the table as he impatiently waited for the young boy to move.
"Hurry up will you? I haven't got all century. I got rocks to steal and wars to start."
"Well, if you quit peatering me every minute I'd move. Besides, what's a minute to you?
"Time I could be spending getting drunk." He sighed grumpily. "If only your Aunt Pol weren't so stubborn."
Garion shook his head. Looking back down at the board, he made a decision. Reaching out, he picked up a pawn and moved it two squares forward. As he let go, however, a voice squeked somewhere near his hand.
"You're going to be king and you can't even play chess."
Garion withdrew his hand in surprise.
"Grandfather? Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"The pawn just said that I was going to be king."
"When did you start to read minds?"
"No, you misunderstand, the pawn said it."
"You mean that wasn't me thinking that?
"No. It was the pawn." He paused, confused. "Pawns can't talk though."
"Of cvourse they can."
"But it's impossible!"
"Nothing's impossible. You're just being stubborn again...like your aunt."
"But did you hear what it said!"
"It's true you know."
"I'm going to be king?"
"Well, that too. I was referring to your chess skills."