Author has written 3 stories for Alvin and the chipmunks.
PREMIER STORY:
"The Songs of the Hopeful: A Chipmunk Story"
Orphaned and lost in the dangerous Australian wilderness, three unlikely
sisters must learn to use their unique talents to survive a harrowing and
exciting journey to fame and freedom, facing the dangers of life every step
of the way.
This is the incredible origin story of Brittany, Jeanette, and Eleanor Miller.
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SongsOfRaconteur
~R~
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So who am I?
My favorite name to go by is Salroah, the Raconteur, a word which means
"a person who tells small stories in really big ways." Ever since I was young
I've been reading, writing, and drawing to bring my crazy ideas to life. I was
given a 12th Grade reading level in 3rd Grade, and of all my subjects, reading
was my obsession.
Now, I've come here. A long time ago I wrote a story here, over 250,000 words
long. That was 2011, and through a series of unfortunate emotional events, I gave
up on that tale a long time ago, so you won't find it here anymore. In fact, you may
remember me by my old name, Victory's Raconteur."
I don't regret my decision but I regret giving up on my readers. I doubt any of my old
fans are still around. With that in mind, I don't plan on giving up on you. With your
help, I can push through my doubt and finish what I begin.
Let's do this all together.
Welcome to my world.
With my greatest respects,
~Salroah
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Starfish
One day an older man was walking along a bright yet dreary
strip of the beach, which had been ravaged just yesterday by
a terrible typhoon.
Now, the sun shone brightly, illuminating the destruction...but,
to the man's astonishment, he suddenly realized that the sand
was littered with starfish, all washed ashore by the ferocity of
the storm. There were thousands of them, he could see, and the
dying creatures were scattered as far as his vision could tell along
the coastline, drying up beneath the scorching sun.
But then he noticed something else: a young boy, running frantically
back and forth from the beach to the water; as the man approached,
he realized that the boy was dashing around, gathering as many
starfish as he could, and rushing to throw them back into the water.
The man watched for quite a while, the sun beating down on his skin,
but the boy paid no mind.
Run, grab, run, throw, run, grab, run, throw..
Finally, the man cleared his throat and said:
"My lad, what are you doing there?"
"Saving these starfish," the boy replied breathlessly, never slowing.
"I see, but..." the man guestured down the coastline at the thousands
of creatures strewn across the sand, "There are so many!"
"Then I will save as many as I can..." the boy replied, throwing more
starfish back into the sea.
"But...you may grow weary, out here in the sun," the man continued,
"It's my discomfort for thier lives, is it not?" the boy said, gathering up
a few of the animals from around the man's feet.
"But...you can't possibly think to save them all!" the man argued, guesturing
once again, "Does it really matter if you save a hundred out of a hundred thousand?"
At this, the boy paused, staring into the man's eyes with a wise, youthful
gleam in his own. Without a word, he took up a dying starfish from beside
the man's shoe, and stared solemly as it weakly tried to curl one arm
around his small finger.
"It matters to this one..." he said,
And he threw it into the ocean.
R
Girls
are like
apples on trees.
The best ones are
at the top of the tree. The
boys don't want to reach
for the good ones because they
are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
Instead, they just get the rotten apples
from the ground that aren't as good,
but easy. So the apples at the top think
something is wrong with them, when in
reality, they're amazing. They just
have to wait for the right boy to
come along, the one who's
brave enough to
climb all
the way
to the top
of the tree.
But sometimes,
the most beautiful
apples at the top of
the tree begin to think:
perhaps they are not as
good as the others and that is why no one
wants to pick them. So they fall, all the way to the ground,
and hurt themselves only because they feel...worthless. Unimportant.
And then, it is up to a kind-hearted man to simply reach down, and take the 'apple' from the ground
with a tender, caring hand. But alas, you must act fast; the perfection of that beautiful apple will not last forever,
lying there on the ground. You must find it, take it, care for it, before the worms of the ground can ruin it from the inside out.
And your reward: a beautiful, fresh 'apple', and the thought in mind that it was you who saved it from such a terrible demise.
Whale Wars...
"Back in July of 1975, we descended into a trough between some, whales.
And we just sat there in this boat, really, transfixed...
As a whale rolled about on the surface, I...caught his eye.
And he looked straight at us, and I saw understanding,
I saw that the whale understood what we were trying to do.
But the other thing I saw in that eye was pity.
...And not for himself, or for his kind, but for us.
And at that moment the harpoon went over out heads,
and slammed into the backside of one of the females of the pod.
And she screamed and rolled on her side...it was like a woman screaming.
And I said well here we are destroying this intelligent, socially complex, beautiful creature,
and that's when it occured to me...
We're insane.
As a species...we're insane.
So quite frankly I don't care what people think about what we do.
They can criticize me all they want but...thier opinions mean nothing to me."
-Paul Watson, Captain of the Steve Irwin battleship.
Leader of the Sea Shepherd active conservationist / whale protection group.
Post if you support thier efforts to defend these beautiful creatures of the sea.
Below you'll find all the adventures I've brought along to share with all of you.
I've put my heart and soul into each and every page, worked to produce stories
of professional quality that'll be sure to give your emotions a ride.
Choose a link and begin a journey.
As always, if you enjoy my work, please leave a review. Every single one is
dear to me, and it's those alone that keep me going.
~Salroah, the Raconteur