well no, thats not gonna be the title... i just havent thought of one yet.

anyway, my story revolves around four races - elves (who were made out of air), dwarves (who were made out of stone, dragons (who were made out of fire), and mermaids (who were made out of water), and the race they created which embodied all four elements - the Human race... and how that race is going to write its history and affect the races which created it. There is a curse upon the human race, and one boy named Peter will break that curse.

Yeah judging by the presence of dwarves, elves and dragons, you can see the paolini influence here...

here's part of the first chapter...

CHAPTER !: THE LITTLE BOY FROM GRAY LANE

Not so long ago, there lived a poor boy in the narrow alley called Gray Lane. Gray Lane was your typical flea infested slum area, with trash on every corner of the street. The ill-fated people who are unfortunate enough to pass by this place would find their bags being slashed or snatched. Young kids were often found by the garbage cans, hunting for scraps that might half-fill their bellies. Older boys were either busy robbing some poor fellow or else cheering on their friends engaged in fistfights. The girls preferred a more peaceful pastime, such as sewing the patches in their brother’s clothes. Overall, it would not be a place anyone in his right mind would want to visit.

The little boy from Gray Lane was called Peter. Peter looked like all his neighbors – dressed in shabby, filthy rags all tattered and torn. He was rather skinny and short. His true hair color was blond, but blackened by the accumulated grime twelve years since his birth. He had a fair complexion, which was sooty with industrial fumes. But behind all the muck in his hair and face lay a pair of the brightest, bluest, clearest, and friendliest eyes you would ever see. Roger, the man who worked for Saunders & Smith, the nearby textile factory, also had the same blue eyes – but they were not at all cheerful and friendly. Perhaps it had something to do with the state of poverty there that most people looked gaunt and grim. With all the trouble in that area, you could hardly find anybody with a cheerful face – unless you met Peter.

Perhaps that is what separated Peter from the rest of them. He never thought of his life as a curse unto him. He always had an optimistic outlook, and was always looking forward to the following day. Many people described him as a kid who was waiting for Christmas, when he would receive dozens of presents. Of course, no such thing ever happened to Peter. He had no parents and never received gifts. But he still seemed to consider every day that passed as a gift, while the rest thought of life as a burden. It was another day of labor, another day of hunger, another day of misery.

Sometimes, people just had to ask Peter, “What is it that makes you smile all the time? You have no money and no home.” Peter would simply reply, “You can’t miss what you never had.” Of course, it was an inadequate response, but people never bothered to inquire further. After all, nobody was really interested in skinny little Peter, whose head was up on some cloud. The only one interested in him was Roger, the man who worked at Smith & Saunders.

Roger had no wife and no kids. He seemed like an odd old man, and nobody ever paid attention to him, except for Peter. Peter was always eager to hear Roger’s stories about The Empire Far Beyond. He was fascinated by the elves, the dwarves, the ogres, and the dragons. But more than that, he loved the stories of the heroes. He imagined himself in the shoes of Arvin the Archer and Elvira the Elf. He saw himself slaying ogres, hunting werewolves, and beheading giants. Oh, what he would give to be in their place, in their world. Sometimes he just wished that he could open a door and find himself entering a new world, where the rainbows never leave the sky. Unfortunately, the sky in his world was dark, gray, rainy, and with hardly any rainbows.

Our story begins on that fateful night when he sat with Roger, waiting for a new story. He was seated on the stone floor of Roger’s house, eating stale bread (for that was all Roger could afford) and moldy cheese.

“Roger, could you tell me what happened to Peter the Possessed?” Peter seemed interested in the guy who shared his name. “How did he avenge Queen Alexandra? Did he kill King Isidor the First?

“Oh no boy, much worse than that. Sold his soul to the devil in exchange fer revenge. Cursed King Isidor that his kingdom shall be lost from him.”

Peter frowned. “But killing Isidor would be worse! I’d rather lose my kingdom than my life.”

“Maybe you. Yer not greedy. But King Isidor was a greedy old King, who could never get ‘nough land, money, glory, wine, women, and slaves. King Isidor, while he’d ne’er give up ‘is life, would lose ‘is mind if ya strip away ‘is kingdom from ‘im.”

“Alright,” said Peter, still puzzled that someone would give up his life for power. “So how did the king lose his land?”

“A rebellion from the east of his kingdom stirred up. Nobody wanted teh be under the king. He exhausted poor villagers’ income by s’torting huge ‘mounts o’ taxes from them. All tha’ money he used to expand eastward. Wanted ter have the bigges’ empire the world has ever seen.

“The people ‘long the eastern border invaded the palace of the King and threw him outta the window into the jeering crowd, who threw eggs an’ t’matoes at him. Stripped off his fine garments and forced ter parade the streets in only his underpants, with egg yolk dripping from his face. Palace guards couldn’ do nothing, fer the mob was much greater in number.”

“I can imagine the humiliation,” said Peter. “But all the same he deserves it, after stealing Princess Alexandra from Peter the Possessed. Nobody should be forced to marry another one, much less a very kind and wise Queen like Alexandra.”

“I ’gree with you there. Peter had his revenge, indeed, but it came at a very high price. He lived a curs-ed life, for an eternity.”

“How is that?”

“He ne’er died,” Roger said simply. “But he was enslaved, enslaved by the demons he summoned. Demons controlled his soul. At first, thought t’was a reasonable price teh pay fer tak’n revenge upon tha’ man who caused ‘lexandra such grief. But as time went by, he was starting teh regret the deal he entered into. Came to a point when he wanted it all teh end. Tried taking away his own life, but found he couldn’t. Grew less like himself everyday, ‘til he was no more but a mere body doin’ the biddin’ of a devil. Tried to get himself killed, but nobody could kill ’im. He was immortal. There was nothin’ he could do.”

“But if he…”

The clock struck ten.

“Oh dear, ‘fraid it’s getting too late. Gotta get up early mornin’. Yeh best be off, catch up on sleep, and we continue ‘morrow.”

“Oh couldn’t we finish the story now?” Peter pleaded.

“Sorry lad, me muscle’s achin’, and got a lot of work ‘morrow. Sleep, young lad. Tha’s what yeh need. S’no wonder yer a skinny little boy.”

“Alright. I’ll sleep. But we finish the story tomorrow night.”

“Aye.”

“Good night, Roger.”

“Night.”

And as soon as Peter closed the door, he heard a loud snore.

gud man

just thinkin bout writin a book myself
if u change the mermaids to merrow(humaniods you take the form of blue/greenish elves on land but are half fish in water) u can really progress peters encounters wid them

as for a title i'll mess around wid sum words(might be awhile) and i'll pass sum ideas at u

That's a pretty good story. Keep it up.

That was prity good you should keep writing

one of my friends wrote a book and it was realy good keep it up