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TARRADIDDLES

Somebody was inside my house when I got back. I had no doubts as to who that might be. Only one person patiently waited for my return from the woods every single time. I called out as I closed the door behind me. No answer. I wondered if he fell asleep. But one look around told me he wasn't in. A bit panicked, I rushed to the dining area where he usually sat and waited. No Peeta. Instead, I found a still-hot cup of tea. Beside it, a half-eaten roll of bread. Something else . . . I pounded on his own door.

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TARRADIDDLES | penscripts.blogspot.com Reviews

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Somebody was inside my house when I got back. I had no doubts as to who that might be. Only one person patiently waited for my return from the woods every single time. I called out as I closed the door behind me. No answer. I wondered if he fell asleep. But one look around told me he wasn't in. A bit panicked, I rushed to the dining area where he usually sat and waited. No Peeta. Instead, I found a still-hot cup of tea. Beside it, a half-eaten roll of bread. Something else . . . I pounded on his own door.

<META> KEYWORDS

1 storyline

2 prologue

3 the wordsmith

4 one afternoon

5 peeta

6 my wedding dress

7 open up

8 katniss

9 hmmm

10 are you okay

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TARRADIDDLES | penscripts.blogspot.com Reviews

https://penscripts.blogspot.com

Somebody was inside my house when I got back. I had no doubts as to who that might be. Only one person patiently waited for my return from the woods every single time. I called out as I closed the door behind me. No answer. I wondered if he fell asleep. But one look around told me he wasn't in. A bit panicked, I rushed to the dining area where he usually sat and waited. No Peeta. Instead, I found a still-hot cup of tea. Beside it, a half-eaten roll of bread. Something else . . . I pounded on his own door.

INTERNAL PAGES

penscripts.blogspot.com

1

TARRADIDDLES: September 2010

http://www.penscripts.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html

Ripple of Flowing Crystal. She was roaming the woods, leaves crackled and broke beneath her feet. There was not a single tinkle of laughter like the ones she used to hear years ago. She guessed even the people who once went there changed. Just like the birds who no longer homed and chirped in the trees and even the snakes that hissed and slithered around. Amidst the silence was where she heard the slow trickling and flowing. It started faintly and then grew louder, beckoning her, waiting to be found.

2

TARRADIDDLES: Coming home

http://www.penscripts.blogspot.com/2012/06/coming-home.html

Her father shouted so loudly every bit of frame hanging in their living room seemed to shake. Oliva was scared. Her name had just came out of the Reaping. She was allowed an entire afternoon with her family. One last afternoon with them. Good thing they were members of the more affluent districts in Panem. At least, there were parts of this whole thing that they are exempted from. Mom Dad. Enough." At last, Oliva found her voice. I'm ready, Mom. I want to go.". It was a horrific idea. "I'm going! They lo...

3

TARRADIDDLES: The Wordsmith

http://www.penscripts.blogspot.com/p/wordsmith.html

Because there is something magical with how feelings become words by that great act that is writing. Because that is the kind of magic that when mastered is very rewarding. Because it is a craft that comes from the heart and captures the reality of observed and experienced life. Stories about life, love, loss, pain, anger, hunger, the beyond, law, races, crashes, investigations, spies, taxes, and everything that makes the world go round and flat. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). ALSO BY THE WORDSMITH. Photos/...

4

TARRADIDDLES: November 2011

http://www.penscripts.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html

She wanted so much to get off that seat by the window. Heck, she wanted more than to throw away that chair. It was at an antique shop that they saw the chair. She was instantly in love with it. The curve, the wood, the paint. Everything was what she knew would be perfect. But things changed. He changed. They changed. Now, she wanted nothing to do with the chair and the window and the gravel driveway and the black sedan by their garage. She wanted to throw them all out. Photo by: Annette Pehrsson.

5

TARRADIDDLES: One Afternoon

http://www.penscripts.blogspot.com/2012/09/one-afternoon.html

Somebody was inside my house when I got back. I had no doubts as to who that might be. Only one person patiently waited for my return from the woods every single time. I called out as I closed the door behind me. No answer. I wondered if he fell asleep. But one look around told me he wasn't in. A bit panicked, I rushed to the dining area where he usually sat and waited. No Peeta. Instead, I found a still-hot cup of tea. Beside it, a half-eaten roll of bread. Something else . . . I pounded on his own door.

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rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: August 2012

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012_08_01_archive.html

I Won't Give Up. When I look into your eyes. It's like watching the night sky. Or a beautiful sunrise. There's so much they hold. And just like them old stars. I see that you've come so far. To be right where you are. How old is your soul? I won't give up on us. Even if the skies get rough. I'm giving you all my love. I'm still looking up. And when you're needing your space. To do some navigating. I'll be here patiently waiting. To see what you find. Cause even the stars they burn. No, I won't give up.

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: July 2012

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012_07_01_archive.html

Well I suppose I never learn, do I? It is crazy. Finding myself in almost the same situation I have fought so hard to leave more than 3 years ago. And to be writing about it again. Now, when nothing has really happened. Yet. How many times would I have to be in this kind of story before I start seeing the scenes that foreshadow one another? I would like to think that this is different. That it would. I just have to get this out or it would ruin everything. Links to this post. I don't want that to happen.

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: Destinations

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/p/destinations.html

Goals, wishes, and future plans of The Rambler. Listed on a random basis, as products of mere wishful thinking and are therefore subject to change and possible non-pursuance). Get into Law school (Fine, take and pass LAE first). Ride a hot-air balloon. Learn how to parasail. Go on an Asian and a European cruise. Own a car (And of course learn how to drive). Own a butterfly farm. Live near the beach. Live on top of a mountain. Win a criminal case. Put up an ice cream parlor. Put up a bookstore.

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: The Rambler

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/p/rambler.html

Ryo, people call me that. 22 and still wandering around, looking for the less beaten path. I still like my history, you know. Things have changed. I now value patience and diplomacy. I think quite a few times before I speak. But right beneath all of these changes, I still am me. I'm still nobody's princess, and I certainly don't wanna be. But now, I know someone's bound to show me how I can be one but won't force me to be. You don't believe that a woman could enjoy being free and independent? Travel temp...

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: May 2012

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012_05_01_archive.html

It's crazy how I always say that I could live a different life than the one I have right now . . . . And find no other life that I want but this one. Links to this post. This can be a good life. May 12 to 13, 2012. La Luz Beach Resort. If only I can be here everyday, where the sand meets the water without hesitation. Where the sun does not hurt. And when life seems to be rocked gently by the wind. Links to this post. Well, you can. With a voice like that. I Can't Make You Love Me - Adele. Sometimes, I ju...

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: January 2013

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2013_01_01_archive.html

Happy January 1st, people! Okay, I'm not in for a long post. Just dropping by to, well, greet you. And to tell you that I plan to make changes in this blog and in all of my other blogs sometime this month. I would've done so the past long weekend but I cannot yet due to time constraints. Yes, ako na. Stage because I've had all of them for a couple of years now and discarding the posts in them wouldn't be easy. *drama* So, I may not really be pushing through with it. Okay, I'm undecided. Links to this post.

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: October 2012

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012_10_01_archive.html

Well, you know what people say when you're having problems with someone dear to you: there is someone better out there. But of course, it is never a thought applicable to everyone. People would always, always find a way to hold on. Even if it sucks. Even if it hurts like hell. Hey, you don't have to feel guilty over that. You deserve to hold on to that one thing that figuratively makes sense right now, even if you know that it literally is insane and insensible. But always remember this, just because you...

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: November 2012

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012_11_01_archive.html

I've been meaning to write. You know this is the only thing I feel that I'm good at- aside from arguing, of course. But somehow, I can't seem to find the right words to tell you. Definitely, I can't say hello. I can't even ask how you're doing. We both know I won't get an answer to that anymore. You're not here. And never going to be anymore. Well, how do you say goodbye? To that person showed and taught you a lot about life and love that has defined most of what you know now? I hated you. I hated wh...

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: Seven years overdue

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012/11/seven-years-overdue.html

I've been meaning to write. You know this is the only thing I feel that I'm good at- aside from arguing, of course. But somehow, I can't seem to find the right words to tell you. Definitely, I can't say hello. I can't even ask how you're doing. We both know I won't get an answer to that anymore. You're not here. And never going to be anymore. Well, how do you say goodbye? To that person showed and taught you a lot about life and love that has defined most of what you know now? I hated you. I hated wh...

rucksackstories.blogspot.com

RUCKSACK STORIES: June 2012

http://rucksackstories.blogspot.com/2012_06_01_archive.html

I miss reading. So much. I have grown up knowing and being told that the only thing I'm (probably) good at is writing. And that, I have always connected to the fact that I have learned a lot from the authors who created my favorite novels. Books also have given me people and names and lessons to cherish for the rest of my life. I'm glad that I am one of the minority that has known of Harry Potter and Katniss Everdeen before everybody else has seen them in motion pictures. Links to this post. May 27 was a...

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TARRADIDDLES

Somebody was inside my house when I got back. I had no doubts as to who that might be. Only one person patiently waited for my return from the woods every single time. I called out as I closed the door behind me. No answer. I wondered if he fell asleep. But one look around told me he wasn't in. A bit panicked, I rushed to the dining area where he usually sat and waited. No Peeta. Instead, I found a still-hot cup of tea. Beside it, a half-eaten roll of bread. Something else . . . I pounded on his own door.

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