Stress. Pain. I had to relax. And so I found myself in the forest, where I stretched my arms and released it all. Poured the negative contents out of my brain, into the grass, which in turn, absorbed it all.
“I am free!” I yelled, laughing, almost maniacally. But my behaviour no longer mattered, for I was all alone. I had all of this to myself! Oh, how unbelievable it felt, how spending a few minutes in nature, among the trees and fruitful plants, how it made you feel so alive, so detached from the insane world of ongoing stress.
Except, it didn’t last forever. Because now, my reasons for running had changed. 

My eyes filled with tears as I read the letter again, and over again.
“If only she’d gotten the letter… If only..”
“If only, what?” a beautiful tall girl gazed at me as she asked me, her blond hair sweeping against her face. Her sad, haunting eyes reminded me of someone long lost and gone, yet I could not remember…
 

This is a story I wrote back when I was 10 years old :

Once upon a time, there lived an elf called Etipi (pronounced Et-ip-ee).
He lived in a mushroom.
He took the toy train every day to his house.
He was a magical creature, and he could make flowers fly.
He liked eating flowers, which gave him powers.
One day a Big Troll came and ate Etipi.
In the Big Troll's tummy, Etipi ate flowers.
The flowers fave Etipi powers to get out of the showers in the Big Troll's tummy.
Then Etipi threw a mushroom at the Big Troll and the Big Troll died.
All the elves celebrated and Etipi was a hero.
Bravo Etipi!!!

This is a story I submitted into the YAFF (Young Adult Fiction Festival) Festival at the American Library In Paris! Unfortunately the results aren't out yet, but who knows, maybe I'll win something! :D

It was a fresh spring Sunday morning, if a little chilly, and Mama woke me up at the crack of dawn to roll the pastry.
"Today is the busiest day of the market, and people will be cold and hungry. Piping hot apple pie will soothe any hunger!"
So I rolled the pastry and shaped it and poured in the filling and put on the top and baked it in the oven and made little slits on the top.
Finally, at 8 o 'clock, Mama told me to get washed and dressed. I brushed my hair into my usual side braid and washed my face and brushed my teeth and slipped on a green silk dress.
Mama was caring for baby Sid and told me to start selling.
I loved caring for the pie stall. We were quite popular in the village and almost everybody would stop and buy a pie, and if not, they would buy a slice.
I stacked the pies on the racks, and switched the signs from 'Closed' to 'Open'.
All of a sudden, there was a mad rush. I thought that they were all for the pies, but instead they were watching a scene unfold in the market square.
I left the pie stall and ran to the crowd of people.
I recongnised Farmer Jenkins, a old stout man of 50+, with a gravelly voice and wrinkly face. He was strong as a bull, and he was holding a boy my age down to the dusty floor.
"You dare pickpocket me! You filthy young man, why I oughta-"
He was stopped when his wife, who worked in the tavern, caught sight of him and pulled him off the boy.
"Leave him be, you monster, leave him be." She cried.
"That young man-" He said, pointing an accusing finger at the boy, "Comes into our home, eats our food, sleeps on our sheets- and he nicks money!" He made one last dash at the boy, who ran out of the way, through the crowd and down the dusty track that led to the woods.
Farmer Jenkins was led to the tavern to calm down by his wife, and the crowd broke up. I was supposed to go back to my stall, but instead I ran down the track that led to the wood.