I havent posted on inklings ina long time so now I will post on inklings,
As you know the story I am writing at the moment is called Avrannian Grounds... well, I must say, it has been a very troublesome book... first I couldn't think to save my life of a TITLE, It had all sorts of suggestions, even my Mum Tried to help me... here were the suggestions...
The Secret of the Seagull's Seal ( Seal as in a seal you use to seal olden days letters ) but somehow I didn't think, though I might use it for a different book, I didn't think it fitted ALL of this book into the title.
Seagull's Cry was Mum's suggestion, but it isn't all about the sea, it is mainly about the "war" between the UoU. It was still a good idea after all though.
Then there were loads of other suggestions, but then I remembered the CARRKIDS!!! Yes, in one of their films, based in my country about three kids called Jordan, Jackie and Anna I had named iy Avrannian Grounds tempererily ( spelling? ) but was later changed to The Mystery of Tinaynia House...
well in my story, Avranistina is the county where the people who are on Westilislia's side build up a group of outlaws to try and attempt a coup against the new dictatorship, so why not call it by The Mystery of Tinainia House's old name Avrannian Grounds.. well, that solved, for now, the title.
Next was how to get a start to the story, but I kept feeling that I had not done my best and starting again, here are some of the starts...
There was a feirce raging storm, the wind threw the rain around
and dashed it against the windows into small waterfalls of water
streaming down the glass and spilling from the outside windowsil
onto the drenched grass below. The wind howled and moaned
around the house, and unexpected drafts zoomed from under the
doors and threw papers and, anything light enough to be carried by
it, up into the air and chased them around the rooms scattering them
here and there.
When Mr Jordans had come back from work, he had flooded
the hall out when he opened the door, the rain just flooded in,
splatting millions of raindrops agains the walls and making puddles
apear on the floor, Mr Jordans hastily shut it, and then the thud
thud thud, battering, pattering noise was the wind and rain pelting against the door instead of the walls and floor of the hall. Mr Jordans
was like a drowned rat, where ever he went puddles came from his
shoes, he carelessly walked into the kitchen, leaving a trail of dirty, muddy water behind him, and asked his wife when dinner was ready.
She turned around, the usual smile on her face faded to a look of
amazement and then annoyance,
"Oh, Anthony!"she said, exasperated."What a mess, you've
made, honestly, you're worse than the children!"
She couldn't help grinning though, when he said,"How would
you like it if you was an ant on a leaf being drenched by three
huge watering cans being emptied all over you, I tell you, that was
what it was like, you could drown in that weather, it's a good thing
our house is on a hill or it'll be flooded like the village down below."
that was one of the very first starts when, all those months ago, Avrannian Grounds was called The Crescent Shaped Island...
Something lurked in the air that night, the unrest that glided across the moonlight
landscape collided with an air of adventure. There was an unusual glow on the
horizon, the sun had sank beneath the distant hills and the red and orange rim that
highlighted the outline of the mountains looked rather dramatic in the night air. The
moon shone down on the land, its rays were stronger than usual, they sent glittering
sparkles dancing across the lake, the water was swirling and small waves were run-
ning up the pebble strewn shores of the lake. From the dephts of the foundations was
a strange noise, and then something came, it was a dark, muffled sound that could not
be identified, never in their life had they heard such a noise, it seemed to come up
from the sixth foot depht of the soil in a graveyard, like tradgety at its very limit of
that can be imagined on th. Then it happened, as the sound
died away there was a slight clamour, and then the house began to shake, the earth
began to shake, the branches swayed violently and some fell to the ground. It shook
the house nearly from its foundations and Thomas fell down the cellar stairs. In the
distance was a splash of fire as an explosion echoed across the countryside. In the
air there was a whizz and a roar and a gliding shooting grey metal airoplane flashed
above the rooves with a roar louder than can be imagined for a lion to perform.
They clambered to their feet and staggered across the rocking swaying floor. Then
it stopped, it died away in the distance. There was a crumbling noise from somewhere.
A loud screech followed it, one of the weaker chimney pots had crashed down into
the fireplace and almost splatted the cat. A flash of tabby coloured fur whizzed past
like an arrow realised from the string of the bow and disapeared out an open window.
A flash lit the room with dazzling light for a second and vanished away into the past.
Thunder echoed and the wind roared and wailed. Hail fell like millions of marbles
flung against the roof, at tile-shattering speed. They drove against the walls as though
they would splinter them and come rushing into the rooms. The two young children
scrambled to their feet and ran for the stairs. Crashing thunder echoeing across the
sky, the room was flashing with dazzling light as the lightening tore the sky in half
and leaped across the dark atmosphere. Great grey clouds hung in the sky, like an
upside down, bubbling cauldren with a dirty black mixture, though that it seemed to
stick in the pot, the steam fell as hail and rain and clashed against the roof tops.
The lake's waves became almost in comparison with the sea's. They ran up the
pebbles, surging, swirling and bubbling. The wind rent the leaves from the tree's
branches, and some of the tree's from their perch in the soil. Whirlpool's
hissed and swirled in the lake and leaves flew and dashed against the walls and
windows. The lake threw spray, and splashed and danced. Never in years had it
had such a game with the wind. Then the great crashing booming thunder, followed
by the earthquake's aftershock. One great sweeping wave flashed across the lake
and drenched the steep slope that ran from it, to the top of the hill where the manor
stood. Horses careered and kicked and galloped in sheer panick, they kicked the
stable doors down and fled out into the night.
But the storm was free, and it raged with all its might. Lightening flashed across
the feilds, and booming, banging, roaring thunder chased it.
that is another start, although I migh use it in a different book of mine, I still wasnt satisfied with it, I know you must think I'm crazy probably, but never mind 
A dull flickering light lit the scene, a room made visible by
candlelight... the window was open and an unusual gust of
wind blew in and chased the fire from its perch ontop of the
wax stick, the room fell into darkness and the only light was
that that shone down in silver rays from the full moon. The
dust flew up in the air from nothing, and no occupant of that
house had lit the ghostly candle or opened the window...
The door handle turned of its own accord as it did seem
and a book fell from the book case at the opening of the
old oak door... it lay on the floor with its pages scattering
open till they reched the opening they fancied and lay still on
the floor. Nothing stood in the entrance uncovered by the
opening of the door, and the door banged against the walls,
stirring up a debate in the room above...
"I say! What is that awful noise, Thomas?"asked
seventeen-year-old Harold William Oldest-Itlanndsby.
"Sounds like the wind banging a door to me,"replyed Thomas,
with a yawn that told he could not care less about it.
"I think you ought to shut it, though,"said Harold.
"Can't be bothered,"said Thomas, lasily.
"Well, you don't want it banging all night do you?"said
Harold.
"Well, I'm not bothered about it!"yawned Thomas."That's
your problem, if you don't like it, YOU ought to be the
one to shut it."
"Just like little brothers..."sighed Harold, as he opened the
door and crept down stairs to shut the offending noise-maker.
The floor-boards creaked under his footsteps and he grimaced
under every noise of their making as they gently subsided a
fraction under the weight leaned opon them uttering an indignant wail that could send some one's hair on end had it
not been of their cause...
He came to the library door, a room that was not often used
and left rather neglected as a rather forgotten place of Oldest-
Itlanndsby Manor. The first thing he noticed ( with horror )
was the slightly smoking candle, and behind that the window,
with the burgular climbing in through it... He picked up the
book off the floor and whopped the burgular over the head
with it,
"Oi, Harold, what are you doing?"yelled an angry voice.
"Oh, sorry Dad!"cried Harold, in shock."Why were you
climbing in through the window..."
"I got locked out of the house!"said his father, indignantly.
"Now get back to bed! and, first can you shut the window..."
As his father walked past him, Harold picked up the book
and placed it on the windowsil, as he did so, a peice of paper
fell from it and carpeted the floor in its rather untidy substance,
Harold removed this untidy slice of book material and stuffed
it back where it, he supposed, belonged, it the book, he then
left the room, taking care to shut the door behind him. He
came upstairs, his feet stepped across that village of creaky
floor-boards setting them all off wailing in their usual protest,
one got its revenge, it came up ( this was a truly shocking
occurance ) and slapped him in the knee as he stepped on the
end of the other side, how had it come out of joint? Harold
hadn't time to think about this at first as he was busily occup-
ied in hopping around the place holding his injured knee, setting
the floor-boards off with all kinds of yells and shouts of protest
in their dialect of creaks... Just then, he remembered, oh dear! he
had left the window open, he went back down the stairs to shut
it, he also told him self not to forget to do something about that
faulty floor-board the next day. As he shut the window, the book
fell from the windowsil and the paper dashed out of it, and
scarpered across the floor. Harold caught it and slumped it and
the book on the table and went back upstairs again. I am now
going to tell you that this night was a reponsibility disaster... he
remembered he had forgotten to shut the library door at his
departure, although famed-little and liked less as that room of
Oldest-Itlanndsby Manor was, its door was infamous for its
habit of banging loudly, window open or no window open, and
sending everyone's hands to their ears. On his way back down
stairs, he once again crossed that Village of Creaks and the
bad floor-board flew up and hit him in his other knee... hence -
another few minutes of hopping around holding an injured knee,
he went down stairs, muttering and groaning, to shut the door
of a room that he was beginning to dislike greatly.
that was another start, which I might use later on in Avrannian Grounds.
It was then, it was that moment, the very clock seemed to tick the seconds away in anxious
expecting for the worst. There was that dreaded noise, what was it? a humming, an awful,
booming kind of noise that sounded far off and distant, but even the distance seeming of the
sound bouced of the walls. They were in that great hall of Bechrennis Castle, the towering
walls rose up above their heads, the ceiling was like that great grey space that could have
been called the sky by a baby. And there was the floor that had those great slabs of grey stone,
it was probably the last thing they would see on earth again, then their mother called, it was
the last call she could make, the last earnest call that seemed to rise above the comotion.
"WILLIAM!" and then there was no time to lose. Jane galnced uneasily over her shoulder,
and expectantly, this was the last hope of ever seeing her brother again, but it was too late,
and there was no sign of him. Her little sister Avermarch had now pulled the lid off one of the wooden crates, there were tears running down her cheeks as she lifted her youngest
brother, aged fourteen months, into the crate and pulled the lid down over the top, then she
climbed into another crate that stood in its wooden gloom beside it, and Jane ran to the
nearest empty crate she could see. There was a noise all around, then there was a slight
trembling in the ground, and a deep moarnful noise that sent shivers of horror through all
of them.
"William!"Avermarch whispered, anxiously."Do come! Do come!"
It was rather stuffy in the crate, but the gaps in the wood and the hasty binding allowed
her to breathe, all she had to do was wait, there was a slight hope, as children do have, and
she clung to that hope in determination, she prayed aswell. She had just finnished the words
"... please don't let William die!" when something happened. What was it, she screamed, there
was a sudden noise, a great roar, what was it? Was it the bomb, had it gone off, were they yet
now going to all die, was it too late? But then she realised, to her absaloute relife, that it was
the convoy of military trucks starting up. But what a racket they made! Then she suddenly
felt rather dizzy and giddy, rather like she was on a boat on restless waves, she realised they
were lifting her crate into the truck. It was thrown in in great haste, Avermarch had realised
that the supplies were essential to the Kettren army, they just had to get the convoy on the
way to Westilisle before Bechrennis Castle went up in flames. It was a good thing they had
had the idea to hide in the empty crates! It was their only hope of escape, and as it was,
there had only been five empty crates there, the rest were filled with ammunition. It was
soon that Avermarch realised that they were driving, they were driving out of the castle,
they were driving to freedom, but her brother, her twin brother, he was left behind, tears
ran down her cheeks, the crate was so big she could almost stand in it, but oh, she wished
her brother was with them. Why had he been so impaitient! She cried, her head flung into
her hands, tears seeping through them and splashing onto the floor of the crate, it was awful,
more awful that anything she could imagine, she was never going to see her brother again
on that earth. She was only a little girl and he was her twin brother...
At that same time, a boy of thirteen years stood on the hill just above the castle, he saw a
convoy of trucks driving out, he sat on the hillside, anxiously trying to calculate something.
The lorries drove out, one two three four... six seven eight nine... ten eleven... fourteen fifteen,
that was all, there was a sixteenth, just driving out the entrance, just driving out when the
least he had expected happened. All he could do was watch frozen in horror, his face was a
picture of shock, this is what he saw, there was a great cumulus cloud of fire, a great orange
red yellow explosion, it submerged the castle with a banging, crashing, country-shaking (
as it did seem ) BOOM!!!! BOOOOM!!! Thick, black, smoke, towering in the air, rising up
to a height that was absaloutely amazing. Then as the fire roared on, the boy simply could
not belive it, he stared in horror, transfixed with ultimate dismay, paralysed with shock,
it was the absaloute Least he had expected would happen. He hardly noticed the convoy
now, he hardly noticed anything, all he noticed was the great collum of towering black smoke
and the huge roaring fire that was raging where the castle used to be...
... Avermarch's lorry was the one just before the one driving out the door to leave the castle,
the lorries drove at two lorries' lenght distance from each other. But as she say the last lorry
halfway through the door ( she was looking through the crack in the crate ) she saw the castle,
not so very far away from her, but she saw it go BANG! and she could only watch in misery
as the rest of the fire gobbled up the castle, and her brother had been left behind... that was
the only thing she could think of, she threw her head into her hands and cried asthough she
would never cease.
ok that was a very very sad part of Avrannian Grounds, but William, her brother, did escae, HE is the boy who stood on the hill and saw the castle blow up, later in the story they are reunited. it is another start to Avrannian Grounds
It was the year 1985, and what a bleak, dull, war-ridden year that was for the country
that this book is about. There was the war between Westilisle and Lond alies together, and
that dreaded Kettre, at that time three children were prisoners at a castle in Kettre, near
the border in the county of Ontresland. The three people were: a sixteen-year-old girl
named Jane and her thirteen-year-old sister Avermarch and their baby brother Philip
who was fourteen-months-old and their mother. Their father had died, and their oldest
brother, William, Avermarch's twin brother, and managed to escape from the locked
room they were in via creeping past the guards, he had gone off in search of a way of
escape so he could rescue his baby brother, sisters and mother. The results were disastrous.
If he had stayed then they could have all escaped together, for that oppertunity occured
that day.
There was a lot of panic amongst the occupiers of the castle. Someone had found that
a bomb had been placed in some part of the castle and there was no time to be lost, the
four family members may have been forgotten about amongst the commotion if one of
the Kettren soldiers hadn't taken compasion on them, and remebered amongst the stir,
thus letting them out of the room, but now how were they to still yet escape? There lay
a maze of large corridors and passages, and huge heavy old oak doors blocking their path,
they could get lost in a castle like that, and if the guards spotted them, they would only be sent to another castle as prisoners somewhere else. They clambered down what seemed
to be endless steep spiral steps, at the bottom they had to run down a long hall with a
ceiling that towed high as a house above their heads, the corridor was so wide and had
so many doors leading off into different places, that it was hard to find the right one,
but they guessed it would be the one on the end, and they were right. As they arrived on
the ground floor, as soldiers ran here and there and guards and Kettren people, servants
and the other castle staff, they were able to creep across without being noticed for that
time, but there was so much comotion at the doors, that they knew it would be impossible
to get through that way, the vehicle doors were kept clear by rule, and this, although at
such a point of time, was still heavily guarded. The weaponry was essential to the Kettrens'
army and it had to be delivered on penalty of loss of the war. So they had an idea. There
were a few empty crates standing beside the ones that were containing whatever was
needed in war. Avermarch lifed her baby brother into the crate and pushed the lid down,
he could breathe alright, and that was all that mattered, aslong as they could get out of the
doomed castle... Avermarch and Jane also clambered into their crates and pulled the lids
down, their mother found it hard fitting in one, but still just about managed. Then they had
to wait. It was barely a minute later when Avermarch suddnly felt rather giddy, she
felt almost asthough she had gone on a lift, and then asthough she was flying in something,
or perhaps on a boat in water, she realised she was being lifted into the back of the lorry.
She hoped they wouldn't stack loads of heavy boxes around her, denying her the ability
to breathe, but she also knew that they would die anyway, this was their only chance
of survival. Fortunately she seemed to have enough air comeing through the slight gaps
in the boards of wood that bound the crate's substance. There was a rattling and shaking
and a roar of engines, the whole convoy had started up, ringing in unison to an eerie
humming sound, for a moment she wondered if the castle was blowing up, but when
her lorry set off, with a bump that made her feel sick and giddy she realised, much to her
relife, that this was not the case. Then she wondered about her brother and sister and her
mother, were they on the same lorry as she, or a different lorry, or had they been left
behind, this idea was completely awful, then she realised that Willaim had been left
behind. On their escape from that room, they had done a short unsuccessful search for
him, perhaps if he he'd had the patience, and stayed, rather than gone off to find a different
way of escape this wouldn't have happened, Avermarch buried her face in her hands and
cried and cried, then she heard it, it was a sickening bang, she lifted the lid of her crate
and saw, to her horror, the destruction of that castle, there was a huge cumulus cloud
of orange and yellow fire, fire that swarmed, that ingulfed, that submerched the castle,
if William was in the castle still, he was most certainly dead. The huge flames and
smoke rising like a tower, shooting up into the sky, the last truck in the convoy did not
make it out of the building in time, it blew up as it was halfway out of the entrance,
but their one was the second in the lead of a convoy of seven. She shut the lid down
and cried and cried.
there is another version of the start
well, that is all the versions of the start that I'll show you for now, though there are many more. I wonder if I AM the only one with this problem? Anyway, one of these days, hopefully, I will be able to write all of Avrannian Grounds like what happened with The Hidden Lake.
if copy and paste messed the writing up then tell me and I'll try and fix it...
I have been working on Avrannian Grounds for four years since I was TEN, I have a version of it that I wrote when I was ten but that is on the other computer downstairs... *sighs* the day that it is written I will be 
obviously but at the moment I am 
Please DO NOT copy any of my stories.
well, bye for now
Enid of Inklings
Chezdak
Cherith. J. Carr
