I love writing Christian Fiction to Teenagers like me. When I was nine, after reading a book, I decided that I most definitely wanted to write like that author and after that, fell in love with the art.

Message from Writer

I love writing Christian Fiction for teenagers. I am participating in a challenge on a website called, National Novel Writing Month where people (kids, teenagers and adults) participate to write a novel in just a month! I love it! It takes place in November and I am writing a 50,000 word novel!


May 30, 2019


I only admitted it because I was under heavy duress. I would have never told them a thing and my dad wouldn’t be locked up in jail for a year. I had been very distinct about the whole thing. Hadn’t missed a detail.
It had been weeks since me and my dad had eaten. We were starving. We’d been living on the streets for more than two weeks and were beginning to lose strength every day. We had tried volunteering at charity shops and gardening around the place for a few bucks, but no one employed us, afraid of our reckless past.
Then, once night, when dad was feeling very criminal-minded, he told me we were going on a heist. I didn’t want to go. I had never been on one of hist heists with him before, and I was afraid. I remember telling him that it was a bad idea, and even though it could turn out in big amounts of food and shelter for us, I tried to get his mind of it, however, to no avail. Dad had his heart set on it.
In the blackness of midnight, when dad’s excitement was at his highest, my fear sort of wore off and excitement took its place. We were finally going to eat!
We both looked up at the window of Mrs. Prim’s house, an old lady who was thought to have billions up in her attic. Dad believed in the stacks of money up there and tonight, he wanted it. All of it. The street was quiet. The moon was gone and me and dad shared a torch that we had stolen from another house a long time ago.
Dad had suspected that the old woman would be sound asleep by midnight, so we’d decided on that time. My dad, in his brown, tattered boots and oversized blue shirt, threw a rope up to the window that had no windowpane. Somehow, the rope got caught on a notch and held fast. I didn’t know where exactly the money was supposed to be, but dad obviously thought I did because the next minute, I was shimmying up the rope, my knuckles white with effort. I got through the small window that only I could fit through.
“See anythin’?” dad asked from down below. My heart was pounding in my ears. The attic was dark and musty. I listened to the quietness of it all, fear creeping up on me again like fingers of ice. I searched the walls for a switch until I found one and the attic lit up. My stomach growled. We needed this money; more than Mrs. Prim. That’s what I had always told myself when dad had come home from heists. That we were doing it almost – innocently.
I spotted a safe in the wall, behind a mountain of boxes. This was it. Pushing back the boxes as well as my fear I started on the code. I didn’t know it of course but had to try. Me and dad both knew this was a very haphazard idea. We had no idea if there was money in here anyway. Just as I heard a clang form the safe and I heard dad gasp, there was a thump at the door. My heart jolted as I looked behind me in horror to see Mrs. Prim in her nightie standing there with a wooden spoon her hand. Busted.


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  • May 30, 2019 - 8:28pm (Now Viewing)

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