http://slow.writerscafe.org/HannahOIivia6 The original writings of author Hannah Olivia en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776069675 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Queen Sariah leaned heavily against a stone pillar on the balcony outside her bedroom, welcoming the new morning. She crossed her arms over her silk nightgown, as she watched the ants of her city down below getting ready for the day. Her dark castle sat on a cliff, where the waves of the ocean crash.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1195546/ To find Fairvelle, abandon all means of transportation. You will not find it if you drove, flew, or even attempted to roam the seas in a boat; You will only get dreadfully lost, not to mention cursed by the Sea Hag or eaten by the monster who hides deep in the South Sea. Fairvelle can only be found .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1187498/ An intro to something new and a bit experimental. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1187497/ WORKING the coffee bar again. It was busier than yesterday, and I had less time to zone out on different people in the store.  Despite having complained about how boring Gabby had grew of being at the book store last time, she once again begged me to take her along. This ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010972/ “Wow, honey. Good job holding your breath!” Mother said to Bernice as she resurfaced.  “I told you I was good at it.” “You most certainly are.” Mother started to pick up the bath toys and place them into a bucket that was on her left. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010970/ Annabelle stared at Bernice. “You have a plan?” Bernice nodded proudly. “Yep. I do. And it’s a good plan.” Annabelle smiled. “What is it?” “Well... That potion you said can turn anyone into a mermaid... It has enough to turn him i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010969/ “Hello.” The mermaid said in a serene and sing-songy voice.  “Hello.” Bernice said back, in awe of the creature before her. “My name is Annabelle. What’s yours?” The mermaid, Annabelle said next. Bernice took a while to answer this.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010968/ Bernice Oliver is five years old. She lives with her Mother and her Father and her cat, Leo. Bernice loves to play all day long, because she has a big imagination.  “Bernice, your imagination is as tall as an oak tree!” Her Mother told her one afternoon not that.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010966/ Okay, so this is just something I'm toying with. I'm thinking about doing a series of these... But I've never written children's genre before. Love to hear what you think. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010963/ IT was around twelve thirty, after lunch, and Gabby and I were a few steps away from Lighthouse Book Shoppe. That morning, I told my parent’s I picked up a short term job while we were staying here. Of course, that didn’t go over well. My mother went on about “Fam.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1010079/ NO such luck. It was almost  ten in the morning, and I was rudely awakened by an, “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!”, and a slam of a door. I tried to nod back to sleep, hoping that Mitch’s slamming of his door was the end of the argument. I was dreaming right up un.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009813/ THE car ride up to Rhode Island seemed to last forever. I was never really a fan of road trips, anyway. Being strapped to a chair for hours while playing listless “I Spy” with my little sister wasn’t my idea of having fun. In fact, I hated it. My parents sat up fron.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009543/ Again, I started this book a while ago, maybe when I was 14. It's under extreme re-vamp right now, so some chapters wont be coming up for a while!! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009541/ IT WASN'T what I imagined it to be. there was little to no dancing, and there wasn't any punch. Instead, there was a large, metal, barrel like looking container sitting in the middle of the room. Most people were standing around it, like it was the center of the party. There was musi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009538/ HE SAT alone in the dark room. There was one small desk-lamp, where he was sitting at his computer, and all I could hear was his occasional grunts and the clinging of glass bottles. My father had made a new bond, a new best friend: alcohol. Every evening he'd slip into his dark offic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009535/          "HAVE YOU eaten today, Laurie?"Of course I have eaten. I'm no anorexic. And besides... I am getting over it. I still thought of my ripped apart sandwich at lunch today, and the nibbled Cheese Nips I had accidentally let sit in the music hallway. Th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009532/ "OH MY God, it's Laurie!The woman, around 60 or 65 came waddling over to me from the other side of the cul-de-sac, the house to the right of Aunt Rachel's. I had just walked into Rain Street, after the longest day of school I have had in ages. Minnie Mae was wearing a blazer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009531/ I REMEMBER the first day of third grade, when we have moved from Bethel, Maine to Richfield, Connecticut where we lived for eight years. My mother, Heather Singer, took me to school that day, and I was so nervous in my pink sweater and purple corduroys. She had been telling me I was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009529/ “LAURIE, SWEET heart. Wake up.”Aunt Rachel was kneeling beside my bed, smelling of sweet perfume and wearing matching satin pajamas. “You didn’t come for dinner last night.”I breathed deep through my nose, rubbing my eyes, clenching my stomach from hun.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009528/ THE WINDOW started to streak with rain, gliding down the glass. Each drop would meet my eyes, reflecting the green, and then disappear. The rain got harder, punishing, while it splashed the windows. I began to pull myself up from the window after the cab dipped violently into a potho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009526/ So I started this about 3 years ago, and it was never finished! Maybe some comments or suggestions would help, but for now I'm not continuing with it :/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009523/ I wrote this poem when I was around... 7 or 8. At this time I was OBSESSED with Shel Silverstein and would bring "Where the Sidewalk Ends" everywhere I go d: http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/HannahOIivia6/1009513/