Hi, everyone...I've been entered in the Cover of the Month contest for "Secrets of Ravenstone" and so far,-so good. However, I'd like to stay among the top 100 covers and so far I have 26 votes, so click here to vote now! https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/7493/ Thank you for your time and hope all of you stay safe!

“Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get.” - Forrest Gump I've gotten a lot of chocolate in my life, some good flavors and some nasty ones. It all started in my first few years of life. I was living at my grandma and grandpa's house with my mom, dad, brother and sister. I thought life was good. I thought there was no bad in the world. My mom and dad got in a fight over my siblings and me. My mom won meaning she loaded us in the car and we left. She started by putting me in the car first, then my sister, then my brother. We drove for hours nonstop to Rapid City. This marked the changing of my life, which was no longer perfect. We moved in with my mom's boyfriend who was an alcoholic. Sometimes he would get drunk and beat my mom, then beat my siblings and me. I remember one time he got drunk and invited his drunk friends, and eventually they got in a huge fight. His friend broke my mom's boyfriend's nose. Then threatened to kill my mom. I remember his exact words “I will kill you or your kids. You choose.” She didn't choose she had her boyfriend kick them out. The next morning we had to scrub the porch to get all the blood off from where he broke his nose. The smell was awful. It smelled like someone had just died. It looked nasty too. When we were done we had blood on our hands. A few months later another fight occurred and cops were called. My siblings and I were taken away. They took us to a new home. They said we were in “foster care” now and we are now safe. We moved a lot. One of the homes we moved to was in Florida. We were definitely no longer safe. The lady was a single mom and all her kids were moved out. The first time we were alone with her she went crazy. She would not let us go to the bathroom unless she was watching. We weren't allowed to get up from bed to go to the bathroom because she threatened to shoot us. She wouldn't feed us unless she had family over. When I went there I was 93 lbs when I came back I was 55 lbs. Most of the time she would eat right in front of us and not give us any. Five months later, we were taken from there and she was charged for child abuse and neglect. Two years later I thought I found the perfect home. I was wrong. These people would tell me things like “I hate you” and “I hope you're leaving soon.” That is when I tried to run away. I got four miles away and then stopped because I never felt so alone in my life. I kept looking for the perfect home. It took a couple more tries but I finally found the one I was looking for. To this day I am as happy as one can be. I am 13 years old and now know life is truly like a box of chocolates. No matter the flavor you get, you can always find the sweetness if you try. Thank you for reading this!

If there is one thing that I will never be able to forget about my grandfather, it is his voice. The deep and fluid voice that would fill my ears with hundreds upon hundreds of fairy tales as I sat at the edge of my bed with my Princess Ariel blanket wrapped around my shoulders, lingering on the verge of collapsing into the pillows and entering the world of dreams. Under normal circumstances, my grandfather was a man of few words, so when you were granted the priviledge of hearing them, you were expected to listen. But in his time with me, not one second was wasted on silence. He told me the legends of ancient heroes whom sailed the raging waters of the seven seas and endured the deadly winds of blizzards while climbing the highest and steepest mountains. Tales of courageous swordsmen whom rode off into sunsets upon their mighty steeds, taking on dangerous quests, vanquishing the land of evil, and bringing peace and good fortune to the weak and the hungry. Those heroes then returned home to face the thundering of applause and the chants of their names, celebrating with feasts and drinks and songs that may have lasted for days. There, they were embraced by those that loved them, kissed tenderly on the lips by their true loves, and blessed with honor and recognition. Such tales of bravery and nobility my grandfather told, and he told them flawlessly, with animated expressions and vigor. The words spilled from his lips, fluid as a river and smooth as honey, with that voice that had to have been gifted to him from the Divine, a voice created from the music of life itself. This was his purpose, I thought as I listened to his wondrous tales, hooked on every word. To entertain the world and all its people, to touch their hearts with the courage of heroes in hopes that his audience will persevere through their own hardships and come out victorious on the other side. What I wouldn't give to perch myself on the floor at his feet one last time, to inhale the bittersweet smell of his pipe, and to listen to the rhythm and sincerity of that voice. The voice that will guide me through my struggles and my dreams for as long as I live.