Lil’ Miss Country

You may or may not know, but my best friend in real life is Lil’ Miss Country¬† We’ve been friends for almost 7 years, and she has an AWESOME wordpress blog. Check it out!



I got my ears pierced 5 weeks ago, and we got chickens a little more than a month ago. We put our chickens in in the coop like 2 weeks ago. My friend and I went to see the chickens yesterday and I picked one up. A hen, out of nowhere, jumped up and ripped my expensive diamond starter earring right out of my ear. I don’t know HOW, because it takes like 10 minutes to get the backs off!

Then, today I went out to look for my diamond earring and another hen (or the same one) jumped and ate the diamond starter earring on the OTHER SIDE. They must like the way that sterling silver tastes. ūüėõ



The best online games are .io games. You might be familiar with, but there are lots more. My three favorites, in order, are,, and Paper and agar have parties that you can enter, but slither doesn’t.

First chapter of Michael Vey – Prisoner of Cell 25

I did not write this, the author Richard Paul Evans did.

Chapter 1 – Chopsticks and Spiders

“Have you found the last two?” The voice on the phone was angry and coarse, like the sound of car tires over broken glass.

“Not yet,” the well-dressed man on the other end of the phone replied. “Not yet. But we believe we’re close–and they still don’t know that we’re hunting them.”

“You¬†believe¬†you’re close?”

“They’re two children among a billion–finding them is like finding a lost chopstick in China.”

“Is that what you want me to tell the board?”

Remind¬†the board that I’ve already found fifteen of the seventeen children. I’ve put a million-dollar bounty on the last two, we’ve got spiders crawling the Web, and we have a whole team of investigators scanning global records for their whereabouts. It’s just a matter of time before we find them–or they step into one of our traps.”

Time¬†isn’t on our side,” the voice returned sharply. “Those kids are already too old. You know how difficult they are to turn at this age.”

“I know better than anyone,” the well-dressed man said, tapping his ruby-capped pen on his desk. “But I have my ways. And if they don’t turn, there’s always Cell 25.”

There was a long pause, then the voice on the phone replied darkly, “Yes. There’s always Cell 25.”

5 Things to Try this Summer!

Memorial Day is coming up, and that means the start of summer! The pool opens, it never drops below 70 degrees, and so close to school letting out! So here are 5 things you can do this summer!

1. DIY popsicles! Use these molds and pour your favorite drink in! then simply let them freeze, and eat them! (Orange juice works very well with this!!)

  2. DIY slip-n-slide! Use some trash bags, or a tarp and lay it out in your yard in a line. Now, add dish soap and some water! Have fun!

3. START A BLOG! Now that you have some free time, START A BLOG! I would obviously recommend WordPress, because it is so simple to use, and, my favorite feature, you can schedule posts, meaning I could write a post on Tuesday, and schedule it to come out on Friday, instead of logging on on Friday and writing a post.

4. Get a fire pit/ use your fire pit. Fire pits are such a fun thing to do on summer nights. You can roast s’mores, watch the fire, and talk. It is so relaxing and can become very fun!

5. Last, but not least, try something new! Whether it’s that new ice cream shop down the street, or a new country, explore new things! There are so many fun things you can discover!

First chapter of “The Maze Runner”

Before you read: I did not write this, it was written by James Dashner, an author with a great imagination and great talent ūüėÄ

He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air.

Metal ground against metal; a lurching shudder shook the floor beneath him. He fell down at the sudden movement and shuffled backward on his hands and feet, drops of sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. His back struck a hard metal wall; he slid along it until he hit the corner of the room. Sinking to the floor, he pulled his legs up tight against his body, hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the darkness.

With another jolt, the room jerked upward like an old lift in a mine shaft.

Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys, like the working of an ancient steel factory, echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls with a hollow, tinny whine. The lightless elevator swayed back and forth as it ascended, turning the boy’s stomach sour with nausea; a smell like burnt oil invaded his senses, making him feel worse. He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone, waiting.

My name is Thomas, he thought.

That… that was the only thing he could remember about his life. He didn’t understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned without flaw, trying to calculate his surroundings and predicament. Knowledge flooded his thought, facts and images, memories and details of the world and how it works. He pictured snow on trees, running down a leaf-strewn road, eating a hamburger, the moon casting a pale glow on a grassy meadow, swimming in a lake, a busy city square with hundreds of people bustling about their business.

And yet he didn’t know where he came from, or how he’d gotten inside the dark lift, or who his parents were. He didn’t even know his last name. Images of people flashed across his mind, but there was no recognition, their faces replaced by haunted smears of color. He couldn’t think of one person he knew, or recall a single conversation.

The room continued its ascent, swaying; Thomas grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of the chains that pulled him upward. A long time passed. Minutes stretched into hours, although it was impossible to know for sure because every second seemed like an eternity. No. He was smarter than that. Trusting his instincts, he’d be moving for roughly¬†half¬†an hour.

Strangely enough, he felt his fear whisked away like a swarm of gnats caught in the wind, replaced by intense curiosity. He wanted to know where he was and what was happening. With a groan and then a clonk, the rising room halted; the sudden change jolted Thomas from his huddled position and threw him across the hard floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt the room sway less and less until it finally stilled. Everything fell silent.

A minute passed. Two. He looked in every direction but saw only darkness; he felt along the walls again, searching for a way out. But nothing was there, only the cool metal. He groaned in frustration; his echo amplified through the air, like the haunted moan of death. It faded, and the silence returned. He screamed, called for help, pounded on the walls with his fists.


Thomas backed into the corner once again, folded his arms and shivered, and the fear returned. He felt a worrying shudder in his chest, as if his heart wanted to escape, to flee his body.

¬†“Someone… help… me!”¬†he screamed; each word ripped his throat raw.

A loud clank rang out above him and he sucked in a startled breath as he looked up. A straight line of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Thomas watched as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes; he looked away, covering his face with both hands.

He heard noises above–voices–and fear squeezed his chest.

“Look at that shank.”

“How old is he?”

“Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt.”

“You’re the klunk, shuck-face.”

“Dude, it smells like¬†feet¬†down there!”

“Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie.”

“Ain’t no ticket back, bro.”

Thomas was hit with a wave of confusion, blistered with panic. The voices were odd, tinged with echo; some of the words were completely foreign–others felt familiar. He willed his eyes to adjust as he squinted toward the light and those speaking. At first he could see only shifting shadows, but they soon turned into the shapes of bodies–people bending over the hole in the ceiling, looking down at him, pointing.

And then, as if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the faces cleared. They were boys, all of them– some young, some older. Thomas didn’t know what he’d expected, but seeing those faces puzzled him. They were just teenagers. Kids. Some of his fear melted away, but not enough to calm his racing heart.

Someone lowered a rope from above, the end of it tied into a big loop. Thomas hesitated, then stepped into it with his right foot and clutched the rope as he was yanked toward the sky. Hands reached down, lots of hands, grabbing him by his clothes, pulling him up. The world seemed to spin, a swirling mist of faces and color and light. A storm of emotions wrenched his gut, twisted and pulled; he wanted to scream, cry, throw up. The chorus of voices had grown silent, but someone spoke as they yanked him over the sharp edge of the dark box. And Thomas knew he’d never forget the words.

“Nice to meet ya, shank,” the boy said. “Welcome to the Glade.”