Thursday, May 3, 2012

New contest open called The Writer’s Voice” is a contest hosted by Cupid of Cupid's Literary Connection, Brenda of Brenda Drake Writes, Monica of Love YA, and Krista  of Mother. Write. (Repeat.).

Plot Sumary: 
Twelve-year-old Isabelle Tresdon doesn’t have a magical bone in her body – but she does have one seriously freaky silver strand of hair.
The Silver Strand is that hair’s story. Okay, well, it’s Isabelle’s story, sure, but she's about to figure out that she’s nothing without that strand. Because of that hair, Isabelle can transform particles of energy into matter. Because of her strand, she will be invited to study magic at Mastermind Academy, a secret school inside the earth’s core. And because of that school, Isabelle’s life will change forever. So it’s too bad that her silver strand is about to suddenly wither and drain Isabelle’s magic and life in just five days.  

First 250 Words:
“Let me pluck your silver granny hair.”  Bianca’s voice sang out over the shouts and chatter of the school bus. 
“Why don’t you just tell everyone I still wear Barbie underwear too?” hissed Isabelle, sinking in her seat to avoid forty-two pair of eyes staring at the girl with the freaky, silver strand. 
“If anyone paid out my Christmas present to you, I’d punch them.”  Bianca flashed a cheesy smile full of horsey teeth and punched a rough, tanned fist into her palm. 
Isabelle peered over her shoulder along the aisle of black vinyl seats.  Four rows behind her, an eighth grade girl hung over the back of a seat, showing off to her friends and blowing gum bubbles.  One seventh grade boy dished out dead arms to some poor kid across the aisle.  The kid scrunched up his face, sucking up the pain of the fist sized bruise forming on his arm. 
Repeated elbow nudges fueled Isabelle’s consideration of punching Bianca’s arm.  Raised on a farm, her best friend had learned to lasso a horse at age eight and trained mustangs by ten.  Compared to being kicked, trod on or thrown off a horse, Isabelle’s punches would have felt like a playful slap on the arm. 
“Pleeaasssse.”  Bianca’s pale, almost invisible eyebrows drew together.  Her blubbery bottom lip puckered and she made a sad, puppy dog face. 
Isabelle hunted for the silver strand through honey-brown hair on the right hand side of her head.