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I'm currently saving up my gold, so I can't post at the Arena's. sooo comment my story peoples???

The World had become a dangerous place. People couldn't go outside without protective gear, and even that didn't last for long. The world has suffered Mother Nature's wrath, and no country has been exempt from it. People try to stay in their homes as much as they can. The countries are overrun with death, disease, thievery, and general nastiness. This is the world that a group of teenagers are trying to survive in, but these aren't your average teens. These are teens with powers. Powers that everyone is trying to control.

That's all I have for now, but that's off the top of my head. Tell me what you think please. Criticism welcome!!!

This is a short story inspired by the last battle in Beowulf, written from the point of view of the dragon. Not my best stuff but I had fun with it haha.

I had slept soundly for countless years, undisturbed, hidden from the small meat creatures. And then my hibernation was disturbed by a wretched meat creature, a thief, a scoundrel. As his hand wrapped around a piece of my hoard, a golden chalice, my slumber was broken. My senses were attuned to each piece of my treasure, having spent so long surrounded by nothing but the brilliant, gleaming articles of gold and precious gems. I also kept the hard outer shells that the meat creatures use to protect themselves. That and their weapons were my trophies, proof of my might and ferocity.
Stealing from me was not only a crime but an insult. I had slumbered for too long if theft was the only respect I commanded. The meat creatures have forgotten their legends, forgotten the frightening tales of my kind. Now I not only had to take back what is mine, but also show these wretched maggots the full extent of their idiocy in stealing from me!
Arising quickly, I tracked the missing part of my hoard to one of the meat creature villages. With a roar and a barrage of intense swirling flame, I took my revenge on the puny, thieving race of creatures. I was invincible. There was no force upon the earth that could stop me.
Of course I expected the cowardly race to attempt to vanquish me. I knew, however, that it was futile, that no meat thing could best me in battle, could triumph over my might. Imagine my reaction when I saw the champion of the cowardly thieves: one of their elders, an old meat thing that had no hope of defeating me. At first I laughed, envisioning my quick and glorious victory. But then the realization dawned: they were insulting me! They saw me as so insignificant a threat that they sent one of their weakest creatures to fight me!
I roared in anger and the old one's followers fled, leaving him to die alone. He raised his sword and began his attack. I scoffed, knowing that which he did not: the blades of meat creatures cannot penetrate my scales, except for in three vulnerable places. This old one would never get the chance to find those places, however. Bellowing with anger and glee I blasted the old one with a stream of flame that had the intensity of the earth's very core. No meat thing could survive that attack, not unless he was blessed by the gods.
Sure of my victory, I approached the old one, his shield and only protection melting from the heat of my breath. The sly one struck then, drawing blood and breaking his sword in the process. Of all the idiotic…I cursed myself for being so careless as to allow a mere meat thing to injure me. When I roared it was not from pain, but from anger at myself for being so reckless. I wanted to roast the old one, the burn him and end this battle. My flames burned even hotter than before, if that was at all possible.
Once again I could see victory just in my grasp when I heard a noise so grating that I paused, searching for the source of the racket. It was another meat thing! But this one was younger, much younger and the dreadful sound was this new meat creature yammering on about strength and bravery and boasting…Argh! Just to shut him up I let loose another fiery blast. The two annoyances hid together and the wretched sly one took advantage of my confusion and broke yet another sword on my fine physique! Oh the pain in my head! It was then that I lost all sense of reason and pure battle lust took over. I became what the meat things called a "berserker". I charged at the old one and drove my fangs into his fleshy neck. No one could have survived that.
I was savoring my victory when a sharp excruciating pain came from my underbelly. The young maggot had found one of my vulnerable spots by pure chance! I felt my flames die off and through the haze of pain, I saw the old one, blood dripping everywhere, unsteady from the pain, draw a dagger. Even as he bisected my body I knew that I would not be the only fighter dead this day. I could already see my fangs' poison take its toll on the old meat thing…a meat thing with a name…the one who vanquished me…was a wolf…Beowulf…

Yeah I normally do third person, so this was a little out of my comfort zone haha.

Hello!

I've just entered an old story of mine in the Arenas:
Accidental Creation

Please check it out and leave your thoughts!
(Even nasty ones, if need be...I can take constructive criticism! wink )

Kisses!

Thanks.

smile

"HELP! H" the shout was cut off suddenly. Greg bolted down the alley. "Where are you?" he shouted looking for the person who was in danger. A scuffling sound alerted Greg of the danger he had walked into. Pain and the nothing. Greg woke up to the sound of digging. Why is someone digging? he wondered. Then in a flash he remembered what had happened. Looking around he saw a lump in the darkness. He inched hi way over to it. It was a girl, about 15 or so. She barely breathing. "Wake up." whispered Greg to his fellow captive. The girl's eyes flew open she started to sit up, but Greg grabbed her covering her mouth with his hand. "Shhhh. Do you want to get us killed." "We're dead already. Can't you hear them digging?" At least that's what he thought she said....it was kind of hard to understand her with a hand over her mouth. "Look I'm thinking. We're not dead yet."

So do these short stories have to do with Tamora Pierce's work in any way at all? Because I have a few short stories but they're totally unrelated.

Also, I'm paranoid to the extreme that if I post something on the Internet that I wrote, something will take it and claim it as their own. O_O