<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538</id><updated>2011-11-19T17:19:34.094+08:00</updated><title type='text'>....from my little heart</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>67</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8809520415663748082</id><published>2011-03-06T13:48:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T13:51:41.354+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Novel</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It’s really easy. You just put the sugar in the tea and you have the warm story in your head. That’s what I’m thinking. But somehow I couldn’t do that anymore. The sugar turned into salty salt, and the tea was coffee. It was awfully salty and not sweet and warm. My story was destroyed. So, I’m going to find a new one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;For breakfast, I had bread and Nutella. That moist chocolate spread gave me an idea. But, somehow, it can’t grind my mind into a real story. Chocolate, was the only word grinding. And that was it. I could keep it into my mind until later.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I was ready to go to work. I stepped out of my house and went into my cab. The driver, was driving peacefully. Peace. An idea already!  I grinded it together with the chocolate. But, still. No story to be found. I started getting angrier. But, I cooled it down once I had a cup of water from the water fountain. My boss called a meeting. We all had a chatty meeting. I didn’t enjoy it. Miserable and chatty popped into my head, and it was grinding almost in an instance. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;The story wasn’t found and I was really depressed. Then, when I arrived back home, took a bath, had my dinner, went to sleep, I suddenly, had my story in the morning…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It was a story about a women who was finding a story. She was eating chocolate bars in the morning, going to work in a cab, having a meeting, feeling miserable – and finding her story the next morning. It was simple. And that’s when I found out a new strategy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Make a story your life. Easy. But probably when I do it again it might turn out the wrong, way, round…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;THE END&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8809520415663748082?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8809520415663748082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8809520415663748082&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8809520415663748082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8809520415663748082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-novel.html' title='My Novel'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-147956972967930296</id><published>2011-03-06T13:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T13:51:21.570+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It’s really easy. You just put the sugar in the tea and you have the warm story in your head. That’s what I’m thinking. But somehow I couldn’t do that anymore. The sugar turned into salty salt, and the tea was coffee. It was awfully salty and not sweet and warm. My story was destroyed. So, I’m going to find a new one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;For breakfast, I had bread and Nutella. That moist chocolate spread gave me an idea. But, somehow, it can’t grind my mind into a real story. Chocolate, was the only word grinding. And that was it. I could keep it into my mind until later.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I was ready to go to work. I stepped out of my house and went into my cab. The driver, was driving peacefully. Peace. An idea already!  I grinded it together with the chocolate. But, still. No story to be found. I started getting angrier. But, I cooled it down once I had a cup of water from the water fountain. My boss called a meeting. We all had a chatty meeting. I didn’t enjoy it. Miserable and chatty popped into my head, and it was grinding almost in an instance. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;The story wasn’t found and I was really depressed. Then, when I arrived back home, took a bath, had my dinner, went to sleep, I suddenly, had my story in the morning…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It was a story about a women who was finding a story. She was eating chocolate bars in the morning, going to work in a cab, having a meeting, feeling miserable – and finding her story the next morning. It was simple. And that’s when I found out a new strategy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Make a story your life. Easy. But probably when I do it again it might turn out the wrong, way, round…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;THE END&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-147956972967930296?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/147956972967930296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=147956972967930296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/147956972967930296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/147956972967930296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/03/its-really-easy.html' title=''/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8060219631718588490</id><published>2011-02-03T14:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T15:00:56.251+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored</title><content type='html'>Yes, bored indeed. You can give me something to do, will win a -zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;good night. =( zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://michaelprescott.typepad.com/.a/6a00d83451574c69e20134858a87a2970c-800wi" /&gt;Big fat baby has the same feelings as me. Right baby? "yes!" told you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8060219631718588490?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8060219631718588490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8060219631718588490&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8060219631718588490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8060219631718588490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/02/bored.html' title='Bored'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3749244661092668648</id><published>2011-02-02T17:46:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T18:51:15.832+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Off To Shop In Ameba Pico!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkpBGQovdI/AAAAAAAAADs/WnAiGc7BFZI/s1600/mecasino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkpBGQovdI/AAAAAAAAADs/WnAiGc7BFZI/s320/mecasino.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569027513057328594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I look different! I changed my hair only. My color. Dye. So, now we're not going to rooms! We're going to real places. I have one in my mind already-Casino Blackjack! After that we can shop at the Shop Lounge. I don't have much Casino Dollars, but I'll show you the awesome place.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkpA9x_hRI/AAAAAAAAADk/zPSIgxTp5a0/s320/casino.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569027510781314322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, that guy was saying Stand Stand so many times I hated it! It totally disturbed my pics! Okay we're off to the Shop Lounge! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtRRupEI/AAAAAAAAAEM/SoSiyhVLvjw/s320/vipshop.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569030470952199234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know, that is so cool. No lie! I wish I had more than 100+ casino dollars. Don't laugh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtZ6cEVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/kPaAXlO0nqg/s1600/highclasspico.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtZ6cEVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/kPaAXlO0nqg/s320/highclasspico.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569030473270432082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Somebody, PINCH ME! That is the most amazing dress, robe, sunglasses, earrings... I've ever seen in life! Pinch me harder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtNUpUGI/AAAAAAAAAD8/k9hVeWsvVKg/s1600/gemsshop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtNUpUGI/AAAAAAAAAD8/k9hVeWsvVKg/s320/gemsshop.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569030469890691170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;Everyone! I'm the blue topaz!                                  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtDfa5xI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Q4oPY30JPLE/s1600/bathshoppico.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkrtDfa5xI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Q4oPY30JPLE/s320/bathshoppico.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569030467251529490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;Awesome. Everywhere have these stuff! Casino Dollars rule!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;Okay, now I'm off to... Vivienne's Shop, at NYC, and then the boys shop. Right next to her! And then... Rina Rina's. I hope her's is cool! Sorry guys, It couldn't upload. Anyway we're moving on. A pirate shop!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkxFfddDfI/AAAAAAAAAEU/IDvqAXLn8w4/s1600/pirate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkxFfddDfI/AAAAAAAAAEU/IDvqAXLn8w4/s320/pirate.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569036384634473970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Not bad eh? I like that maiden dress... But it doesn't really suit me...&lt;div&gt;Next, we're off to.. Orin's Shop, the Edo place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkxzqHByKI/AAAAAAAAAEc/87Fag0zsYeM/s1600/edo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkxzqHByKI/AAAAAAAAAEc/87Fag0zsYeM/s320/edo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569037177767184546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;Nice things right? I was trying out the pink dress. It really suits me!!! (:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;We're done! I can't believe it! It was really short right?! I wish I could tell you somemore but the game keeps on saying RELOAD. =( I'll tell you more tommorow. I have to take a shower and (if your mummy or ayah you know) I can't play the laptop after i take a shower. Okay ta-ta! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;PLEASE COMMENT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3749244661092668648?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3749244661092668648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3749244661092668648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3749244661092668648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3749244661092668648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-off-to-shop-in-ameba-pico.html' title='I&apos;m Off To Shop In Ameba Pico!!!'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkpBGQovdI/AAAAAAAAADs/WnAiGc7BFZI/s72-c/mecasino.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2315041354421483643</id><published>2011-02-02T14:46:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T15:00:37.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ameba Pico, My favorite game!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAr8ZoCHI/AAAAAAAAADc/eHVdYrsOC04/s1600/madhatter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAr8ZoCHI/AAAAAAAAADc/eHVdYrsOC04/s320/madhatter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568983169168312434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkArqC7alI/AAAAAAAAADU/lxVURM9n0OY/s1600/cat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkArqC7alI/AAAAAAAAADU/lxVURM9n0OY/s320/cat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568983164241275474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkArR4xXUI/AAAAAAAAADM/hg2kqkt7m7o/s1600/em.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkArR4xXUI/AAAAAAAAADM/hg2kqkt7m7o/s320/em.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568983157756222786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAJyo-PQI/AAAAAAAAADE/1zbw4vXT-4g/s1600/23512943.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAJyo-PQI/AAAAAAAAADE/1zbw4vXT-4g/s320/23512943.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568982582432775426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAJu6nnpI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Zo_G1RfBX_0/s1600/1243141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAJu6nnpI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Zo_G1RfBX_0/s320/1243141.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568982581433048722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUj_DYmn5mI/AAAAAAAAACk/-BBmCsNsu0c/s1600/amebapico.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUj_DYmn5mI/AAAAAAAAACk/-BBmCsNsu0c/s320/amebapico.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981372852758114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUj_DIlGScI/AAAAAAAAACc/XBdhyXnrkOU/s1600/amebapicome.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUj_DIlGScI/AAAAAAAAACc/XBdhyXnrkOU/s320/amebapicome.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568981368551393730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on Youtube, trying to fine many stuff on Ameba Pico, but when I found out NO LUCK, I started wimping. Then I found this, song with ameba pico! Success! I was watching it when. Awesome! Me and Hakeem were jumping up and down. Anyway the pics are me and Hakeem. Of course I'm the girl!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other one's is the picture of only ME, in the spa salon. Cool huh? People use MONEY (real money!) just for a game. Weirdos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, there's also one with me at Benry's Cafe. Those people I met at the spa thought I was stalking them. Really? Weirdos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who loves Alice In Wonderland? I do! And I went to a place where someone does too! Room 1 was the cat caterpillar and Alice, room 2 was the madhatter! \&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's it I guess... I'll tell you more If I have time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2315041354421483643?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2315041354421483643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2315041354421483643&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2315041354421483643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2315041354421483643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/02/ameba-pico-my-favorite-game.html' title='Ameba Pico, My favorite game!'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TUkAr8ZoCHI/AAAAAAAAADc/eHVdYrsOC04/s72-c/madhatter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1441313568110937453</id><published>2011-01-26T19:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T19:30:57.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Part1(The Girl Next Door).</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="language:en-US;margin-top:4.32pt;margin-bottom:0pt;margin-left:.49in; text-indent:-.42in;text-align:left;direction:ltr;unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override: none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap:hanging"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;The girl next door is stuck in my mind.! What if that girl really did cut off those roses from mum’s super original garden? Mum would be in major disappointment… apart from crying, mad violence! Even dad can’t convince her down! I looked at my window. It was far from morning. It was late afternoon, on a nice sunny day.  And in one, or maybe two clicks, my laptop went buzzing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="language:en-US;margin-top:4.32pt;margin-bottom:0pt;margin-left:.49in; text-indent:-.42in;text-align:left;direction:ltr;unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override: none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap:hanging"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Aunt Lola!” I cried. I whizzed to the laptop.  An email was sent from Aunt Lola! Now she was at UK, London and I couldn’t wait for her fantastic-o news! I read every paragraph, every sentence, every word. Boy what Aunt Lola wrote was a bunch! “Mum!” I cried. I was forgetting everything about the girl next door now… but I set my mind on it straight away when I looked out of the window. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="language:en-US;margin-top:4.32pt;margin-bottom:0pt;margin-left:.49in; text-indent:-.42in;text-align:left;direction:ltr;unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override: none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap:hanging"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;The girl was back again! “Never mind that!” I cried to mum again. I peered out of the window. The girl was now plucking mum’s ever so nicest, daisies! Oh boy is she going to get troubled. Before I could gasp or scream or anything, mum’s voice interrupted… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="language:en-US;margin-top:4.32pt;margin-bottom:0pt;margin-left:.49in; text-indent:-.42in;text-align:left;direction:ltr;unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override: none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap:hanging"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Darling is there a matter? I’ll be downstairs gardening…” Oh no! If mum was gardening, she’d know the steal! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="language:en-US;margin-top:4.32pt;margin-bottom:0pt;margin-left:.49in; text-indent:-.42in;text-align:left;direction:ltr;unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override: none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap:hanging"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; stopped mum completely! “Mum wait! Why don’t you rest? I can do it for you!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt;“Oh thank you honey… but I prefer working than resting.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“But&lt;/span&gt; mum! I want to work for you!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“To get working money I suppose…” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;“No! To just… keep your stresses out. You know, gardening includes worms, slugs, snails…”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“You’ve got a point… Maybe I suppose you can go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; outside and help water the flowers. I’ll stay in thank you!” Safe work!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;I went downstairs and took mum’s super ordinary watering can&lt;/span&gt; from the shed and went to the garden at the front of the house. “Since when are you all busy on ‘gardening’ Bell?” Angel my friend asked. I shrugged, not knowing what to say. Options, options. Tell or not? Probably yes. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Well… there’s this girl who’s been stealing flowers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; from mum’s garden.” I whispered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Oh no!” Angel cried terrified.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Mum wanted to go gardening&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; so-” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“I get it now. &lt;/span&gt;Don’t worry friends are friends… right?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Right-y right-so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; doodle.” I sighed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: large; font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;&lt;span style="vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“How ‘bout&lt;/span&gt; some action?” Angel asked, then winked delightfully. She took the watering can near the gates, (which I should’ve took earlier) and started watering the daisies. I watered the roses.&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: 'Credit Valley'; font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Oh…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: 'Credit Valley'; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: 'Credit Valley'; "&gt;Angel whispered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: 'Credit Valley'; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: 'Credit Valley'; "&gt;I looked at what she was seeing. A daisy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;being cut of from its green stem. “I… get it… now…” She stammered. I nodded agreeably and kept on working. I could see mum from the kitchen window now.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Oh no, mum alert!” I cried. We all dashed to the daisies and hid the cut-off one. Mum was heading outside for cool air until… I saw the girl again! She looked from the corner of her eye to the violets, near the gates. Then, in a blink she stole one violet and ran away. I gasped. Angel did too! Neither both of us could believe it. “What’re you hiding there girls? Money on plants?” Mum laughed. But me and Angel thought it serious. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I closed my eyes… and showed mum. I brainstormed a lie for the plant being broken.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Oh… NO!” mum burst into a soft sniff and turned into a alarming tear-bursting cry. Dad peeped out of the curtain upstairs and sighs. He knew this would happen completely. I knew too! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“No mum… I was watering the plants and accidently stepped on the daisy by mistake! So I gave the daisy to my friend across the road.” I started feel like bursting into tears again… but I held it the longest I’ve held it yet.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Get that daisy now!” She snapped. “And with your girl over there!” She pointed to Angel. Angel shyly but same feeling as me went out of the garden across the road. I went next to Angel and wanted to apologize.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Look! Look what you’ve got us into!” She burst out before I could open my mouth. “Trouble first, then DOUBLE trouble second! And third time… look! She scolded me out, let me repeat OUT of the house. Who could do that  to me? Your mother of course!” I was in the middle of saying I when she burst out talking once again. “And so you just do that? You just LIED to your own mother, terrified your own friend… how’s that for a best friend actually? How’s THAT?!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt; I rummaged through the box. I took one thing out. “Daisy photo frames? Spectacular!” Angel cried. She shuffled the frame aside so she could pay that later.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“A rotten black old daisy….”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“A…” We were pulling things out until I spotted something marvel!  A bag of fresh daisies! “I’ll buy these Shimmy!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Oaky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; dokie!” Shimmy puts all of the things in one plastic (oh my gosh she wastes nature!) bag and gives us the change. “Good luck in your ‘whatever’ scene!” She waved goodbye. Then, we went to the sewing shop. Where our best friend Tanya works with her mother! We rung the bell five times and oh my gosh she hasn’t answered! Until we knocked… she opened the door. &lt;/span&gt;“What a surprise. Halo friends, welcome to Mom &amp;amp; Daughter Sew!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;“Tanya here?” I asked.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“At&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; the back.” I looked at Angel, she shrugged. &lt;/span&gt;We knocked the STAFF ROOM area.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“Angel&lt;/span&gt; and Bella! Safe!” I opened the door.  Tanya was sitting on the couch and her mother was on an armchair sobbing. I turned red. Then blue, then my normal whit-ish –peach-ish type. Angel asked Tanya ‘bout the thing. She  showed us scissors over there at a table. I took the scissors and chopped off the stem. It looked perfect. I gave the other daisies to Tanya and ran back home. Angel was already at the gates but trying to avoid mum (how could she!). I huffed and puffed even though I wasn’t that sweaty on purpose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; "&gt;“So, where are they?!” Mum snapped bossily. I gave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt; the daisies to mum. “Thank you dear. And thank you Angel…” Mum went back indoors and I gave a the slightest, friendliest, coolest… wink!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt;Angel was on the garden swing kicking pebbles from the mini-pond mom built. Oh look! She was kicking pebbles! &lt;/span&gt;Oh bet mum would scream at her mega-extreme once more. “Angel… Pebbles, mum?” I said. Angel went to the gate. Without saying goodbye, went home.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;“Mum I’m off to the marketplace.” I shouted.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;“Be back by 7 sharp!” She shouted back.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;I took my bicycle and rode all the way to the amazing market place. I parked my bike and… &lt;span style="font-style: italic; "&gt;bump, thud crash! &lt;/span&gt; I bumped into Angel, who was carrying big bags of stuff. “Oh sor-” Angel walked away. I was a  real bummer. So instead, I went to SHIMMY’S STORE instead. I was riding my bike when I bumped in Angel (again)!  “What now you… you Bossy Bella!” She nudged me roughly and ran away. It was really obvious something wrong was going on…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;Shells! Angel loved shells so much! I entered SHIMMY’S STORE and a ‘ring’ went on. “Obv its something about flowers golly gal?” Shimmy murmured. I shook my head.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;“Shells.” Shimmy went to one very, very, dark store room. She, took out a very small box which looked obv not so interesting as the flowers’ box. I opened the box carefully, and to my surprise, shells were in there stacked until the lid! “I’ll take this box Shim. You mind?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;“No problem-o! That’ll be 3 bucks like cheap stuff!” &lt;span style="font-style: italic; "&gt;bargain girl!&lt;/span&gt; I thought. I went out with the box in my clear hands. I rode the bike, popped the box in the basket. Oh and lucky me again! We both bumped bikes. Yessss! “Angel… here.” I gave the box, hopped on my bike and cycled back home before Angel got a chance to saying ANYTHING. Tomorrow was school and that’s the hard bit! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;“Please get out Bella Pearl. I need to chat with you a moment…” Miss Shea chatted about friends, jealousness, and of course ‘shouting’.  I stayed locked until more footsteps were heard. Sally’s kiddy shoes, Alison’s baby boots… and Mr. Rockingsten's Shoes. I stayed locked more!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: normal; text-transform: none; letter-spacing: 0pt; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "&gt;More footsteps were heard. &lt;/span&gt;George’s school shoes,  Manny’s white ugly shoes…I still stayed locked. But I found out BOYS were entering the GIRLS toilets! Then with shock! Principal Stuart knocked on the toilet door. “Bella Peral, please get out!” He can’t pronounce my name! How rude is that?! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;A note was slipped underneath. I read it silently. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;Dear, Bella&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;Sorry about everything. I wish you could forgive me. I love the shells btw. Friendship is infinity! Remember? FRIENDSHIP FOREVER &amp;amp; ALWAYS. I hope you can forgive me! Eva is so weird. She goes on about math’s, and English. Ugh! I bet your better! Hope you come out.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;Angel-Cakes (best friend)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;I was starring at the note. So at the back I wrote…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 6.72pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;You know what? We can be different but we rock! Coming out in a few minutes…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;And we did rock, we always did… right?!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;I unlocked the toilet door… I saw angel carrying the box of shells. She looked really regret and miserable. From, tears, to bear hug we went! Everyone was cooing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt;font-family: &amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;aww&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt;font-family: &amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;! So sweet! But only Eva and her friends were like… ‘ugh so disgusting!’. Evil!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;We linked arms and both, Me and Angel were a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black; mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;succes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black; mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black; mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black; mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;! Thanks to Angel! Ooh. This is only part 1 anyways! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; text-align: left; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; font-size: medium; font-family: georgia; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:18.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Credit Valley&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:0;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: center; line-height: normal; margin-top: 8.64pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Part2, the stolen daisies isn't solved…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: center; line-height: normal; margin-top: 4.32pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.49in; margin-right: 0in; text-indent: -0.42in; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: black; "&gt;Find out later. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; "&gt;Cya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; "&gt;! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="language:en-US;margin-top:4.32pt;margin-bottom:0pt;margin-left:.49in; text-indent:-.42in;text-align:left;direction:ltr;unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override: none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap:hanging"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1441313568110937453?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1441313568110937453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1441313568110937453&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1441313568110937453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1441313568110937453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/01/part1the-girl-next-door.html' title='Part1(The Girl Next Door).'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-7329555357640065956</id><published>2011-01-22T16:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T16:45:34.259+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have this &lt;b style="font-size: x-large; "&gt;BIG &lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;story to tell you. It's about me. It's not a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-size: x-small; "&gt;small &lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;thing. It's just a story, written by Nur Nabila Zulkapeli. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;About Me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Hello. I am Nabila. I live in Malaysia. I love Malaysia. I have lots of cousins and sisters. I only have 1 brother. My dad works in Oman, Muscat. Mummy is staying with us (of course). I like writing, reading, and using the computer. I love everyone in my family. Their names are, Hakeem (brother), Kak Adik (Sister 1), Kak Noorul (sister 2), Kak Deea (sister 3) and Kak Long (oldest sister). And me? The youngest sister. Well, Hakeem is the youngest but who cares. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;One day it was school day. (UGH!) So me and Hakeem had to wake up x-tra early. I'm trying to achieve my personal goal (in school), which is --&gt; Wake up early and not fuss about waking up. Cool huh? But sadly, I fussed. (tan tan tan tan.... music goes on) =P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I took a shower, put on my P.E uniform since it was FRIDAY (tan tan tan tan... music goes on again) oh no! P.E is fun but the high jumping was really hard but I'm not fussing about that! (in case mummy is suspicious) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;School boring school boring school boring. I've been saying that all day when it was class until - IDEA! (happy tinkling music goes on and a light bulb appears above my head) But the light bulb went broken and I lost my idea. I was still not in a mood until Mrs. Waller said ---&gt; "Break Time everyone!" (cheer!) Everyone rushes to their tubs and takes their hats and rushed outside (only not for the basket helpers).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;                                              &lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.allfreelogo.com/images/vector-thumb/school-children-classroomai-prev1185488531pOSF3F.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finish i dont wanna tell you more bye. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-7329555357640065956?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/7329555357640065956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=7329555357640065956&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7329555357640065956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7329555357640065956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-have-this-big-story-to-tell-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1471834515817342516</id><published>2010-11-23T17:23:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T17:33:07.019+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So much fun in Kedah - (A place which i thought wasn't too fun)</title><content type='html'>Well, maybe your wondering why I just added the title quite long. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) It was a long title I wanted to write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) If I wrote the it here then it wouldn't look nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) I just wanted to do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now you know the reasons, let's go on with my story!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had so many emotions in my head and my tummy. Sad and happy. First of all, I feel sad because it's Pak Su Boy's wedding, (And my b'day,) so their anniversary will be on my b'day....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy is cos all my cousins are coming. My BEST cousins. (even though I have to communicate in MALAY...)Also another thing is... I'll tell you at the end. Putting this star so I can label. *&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since me and Ilyana (call her Yana if you want) are the Flower Girls, it was a VERY busy time of the day. It counts as all the boys... Hakeem, Dinie, Alif, Aiman... Hold the big thingi. I don't know what it's called. As we're kids... We walked really fast. Nearly leaving the bride and groom behind. (hehehhehe!) I walked slower... And I thought - This is so lame. I'm walking like a snail. I think a frog can beat me in this type of walk! Yes, we were VERY slow. I was VERY shy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay... I'm finished. I will tell you the rest of the story if your willing me to do it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BTW! The label! *IT'S MY B'DAY!*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1471834515817342516?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1471834515817342516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1471834515817342516&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1471834515817342516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1471834515817342516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/11/so-much-fun-in-kedah-place-which-i.html' title='So much fun in Kedah - (A place which i thought wasn&apos;t too fun)'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2845822261860361923</id><published>2010-11-05T10:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T10:46:51.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeepyyy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;So bored. I wish I could relax and have NO school and NO going outs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nAmQLWq7QRI/SgkACId0qhI/AAAAAAAADRM/bMyBvsIppsA/s400/sleepy03.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;If days weren't invented then we all stick to Saturday. Nothing else please! I have been helping mummy with Pak Su Boys wedding, and we worked like a machine. I was sooo sleepy. And if it wasn't for the rough burn. I scraped my knee on my schools rough floor at the playground. OUCHH! You know, if you don't think it hurts than try it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2845822261860361923?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2845822261860361923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2845822261860361923&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2845822261860361923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2845822261860361923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/11/sleeepyyy.html' title='Sleeepyyy'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nAmQLWq7QRI/SgkACId0qhI/AAAAAAAADRM/bMyBvsIppsA/s72-c/sleepy03.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8036405296014426200</id><published>2010-11-03T10:44:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T10:45:48.867+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Kids Without Care - Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Found the father&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Up in the branches of trees, the big tree house lived. It was planked with peachy wood. Inside was history all about the father and the mother. “Nic! Ruth! Remember our tree house? Our history is not gone!” Cried Caroline. The two boys dropped their things and began running towards the door. “Mum must be out for groceries! Come on!” Nic twisted the rusty knob and began climbing the rope ladder to the top. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“Mum?” Gasped Nic. Mother was rushing her work stealing all the memories. All of them. “NO! MUM!” Cried Nic with fear. “Why have you done this to us?!” Followed by Caroline and Ruth they also spotted mother carrying the heap of things. “Guess our thoughts completely empty!” Sighed Ruth. They sat on the planks for 3 hours. No one came to help them. NO ONE. Suddenly a man with combed shiny pure black hair came with a glitz jacket. Followed by, perhaps wife. A slim lady with pure black hair. “I.. Is that dad?” gasped Caroline. The boys didn’t know. They didn’t see their dad yet. Caroline ran to mum like lightning. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“MOM! Someone’s outside!” She cried. “Go on! Look! Peep! Greet!!!” The mother peered out the window. Her mouth wide open. “so?” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“C… Carle?” She shivered. Nic and Ruth came running down too. They looked at the man again. She Opened the door and saw the man on the mat smiling. “Are you Jane Brown?” He asked. “Mother to your 3 kids I s’ppose?” Nic looked at the man, then mother. “Mum??? Are you insane?” Nic blurted. The 3 ran upstairs and lay on their beds thoughtfully. “Could this be dad?” They all thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Maiandra GD', sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Maiandra GD&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8036405296014426200?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8036405296014426200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8036405296014426200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8036405296014426200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8036405296014426200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/11/three-kids-without-care-part-2.html' title='Three Kids Without Care - Part 2'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-631678975917821355</id><published>2010-11-01T20:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T18:26:54.038+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Kids Without Care - Part1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Mother Died&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;There were only remaining 3 kids as their twin sisters died. Incapable for an only mother, the father is no longer in the family since the BIG divorce. No one knew if the father snatched the twins or if they just died. Ruth, a 9 year old boy was curious about this. He wanted to know EVERYTHING about it. The divorce actually was exactly a day before Ruth was born.  So, only remained three kids I repeat.  Their names were Caroline, Nic and Ruth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;There were 2 sons and only a single daughter. Caroline was shy and was also curious about the divorce. That day Caroline was out for some groceries. She was 11 years old today, followed by Nic, 10 years old. No one saw the big divorce. The snatched or dead baby twins have gone. The mother was gratefully happy about the twins. She was so happy she ignored the 3 other kids. Now the mother is angry and sad about the twins. She never ever takes care of her loving kids. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“Mum?” mumbled Nic. Without Nic noticing that his mother was ignoring him a lot. “I was just—“He looked down his laps and placed his chin onto his knees. He bent down poking the cushions coat and began speaking again. “Oh… it’s okay.” He finally said. “Actually… You know the arrival?” He asked shyly. “Of course not. Now stop bothering me and go on eating your meal.” snapped the mother. Nic sighed sadly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;He finished his few bits of crumbs and ran to his bedroom in despair. Suddenly the regret mother began thinking loudly to herself. &lt;i&gt;What is the arrival? &lt;/i&gt;She tucked everyone to bed for an hour and a half. After that she woke everyone up for late supper. “Why do we have to have supper after good night’s sleep?” whined Ruth. “All my friends say they eat their supper after dinner!”   Caroline gasped at Ruth. “QUIET!” cried the mother. Everyone was silent.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Caroline stared at Ruth. “Sorry…” mumbled Ruth. “Really,” The mother looked away and went to tuck herself to bed. The kids looked sadly at their family photo. Even without the twins it looked wonderfully nice. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“Andale says she has a great mother!” spilled Caroline. “I wish I had a nice one too!” Without noticing she shouted the mother came down angrily. “WHO SAID THAT?” She stormed. Caroline turned red. Fire color red. They all ran upstairs for bed. They covered themselves nervously and never shouted again. Even if they had too, if they really had too, it was always a NO. Nic shot a smile to Caroline. Caroline passed it on. Until the smile passing was over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;The mother was storming in with fear and she searched everywhere. “What’re you looking for?” Asked Caroline. “Paper studies I can guess!” She giggled. “Nonsense! You took my mirror didn’t you Caroline?” She shouted. “Well… Yeah…” Caroline murmured. “THIS IS JUST FAKE! You stole the mirror without asking me?!” The mother stormed off with the mirror. The whole thing cracked. So it was 7 years bad luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-631678975917821355?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/631678975917821355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=631678975917821355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/631678975917821355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/631678975917821355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/11/three-kids-without-care-part1.html' title='Three Kids Without Care - Part1'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1366909349204137249</id><published>2010-10-18T17:59:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T18:02:36.685+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I miss it when Ayah ...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;SAT ON THE PUNGKIN&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WHEN I JUMPED ON AYAHS LEG&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WHEN I HUG HIM,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AND HE HUGS ME,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AND WE ALL ENJOY,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ALL OVER SEA...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PRAYED WITH ME&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MAKES ME LAUGH&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AND THATS WHY I LOVE AYAH...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1366909349204137249?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1366909349204137249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1366909349204137249&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1366909349204137249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1366909349204137249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-miss-it-when-ayah.html' title=''/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2502781930751040886</id><published>2010-10-18T16:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T17:12:42.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fool!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="language:en-US;line-height:normal;margin-top:6.0pt;margin-bottom: 0pt;margin-left:.4in;text-indent:-.31in;text-align:left;direction:ltr; unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override:none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap: hanging"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; color: black; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Hi… I’m Ruby Rose. Who are you?! And what on earth do you think to your doing? Are you trying to fool me?! I know you are… Cos you already DID!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="language:en-US;line-height:normal;margin-top:6.0pt;margin-bottom: 0pt;margin-left:.4in;text-indent:-.31in;text-align:left;direction:ltr; unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override:none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap: hanging"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; color: black; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;“Ruby… I don’t think you should go…” Lily stammered. I was going to the Grand Canyon Museum. I know she’s just jealous. “Your not the boss of my life.” “the boss of you friendship…” I walked ahead. Maybe slide ahead. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="language:en-US;line-height:normal;margin-top:6.0pt;margin-bottom: 0pt;margin-left:.4in;text-indent:-.31in;text-align:left;direction:ltr; unicode-bidi:embed;mso-line-break-override:none;word-break:normal;punctuation-wrap: hanging"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; color: black; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;“But Ruby… I think it’s just too scary for you!” Lily stammered again. “yeah right.” I said. She was already red with sadness. Or maybe fear. The big bell rang and I exactly knew what to do. Same old rotation. Run to the locker, put in my bag, get wet by Doves Dave’s water and enter the classroom being laughed at. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; color: black; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; color: black; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But today was different. It’s even WORST. And your fooling me! And you say no? OH YES IT IS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:20.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Rounded MT Bold&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Rounded MT Bold&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family: +mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:1;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2502781930751040886?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2502781930751040886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2502781930751040886&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2502781930751040886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2502781930751040886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/10/fool.html' title='Fool!'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3757788840641216848</id><published>2010-10-15T13:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T14:21:38.439+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello India! Bye Byes India...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TLfuKQiWj1I/AAAAAAAAACI/PENAuMo7d3Y/s1600/IMG_4936.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TLfuKQiWj1I/AAAAAAAAACI/PENAuMo7d3Y/s320/IMG_4936.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528148927625727826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the day I can cry... Happy and sad at the same time. Tell me which can be worst?! Good Bye Nasi Briyanies, and Porathas, and especially ayah... You see, 1 week in India, no Kak Deea nor Kak Karsih. Warm hot relaxing water. Ayoo... Can't put the plug in! No fair! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lemon Tree Hotel is cool... You know, not the cool cool, the cold cool. Get it? :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's just me and Hakeem , together. Not many sister talks. At least 1 is enough ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BYE!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3757788840641216848?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3757788840641216848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3757788840641216848&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3757788840641216848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3757788840641216848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/10/hello-india-bye-byes-india.html' title='Hello India! Bye Byes India...'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/TLfuKQiWj1I/AAAAAAAAACI/PENAuMo7d3Y/s72-c/IMG_4936.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2576853847852401278</id><published>2010-10-07T16:57:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T17:16:18.504+08:00</updated><title type='text'>School Council!!!</title><content type='html'>That day I was elected as School Council! I'm so happy. Oh I really am!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.cjs.derby.sch.uk/images/site/school_council.png" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2576853847852401278?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2576853847852401278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2576853847852401278&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2576853847852401278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2576853847852401278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/10/school-council.html' title='School Council!!!'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2406507106169430377</id><published>2010-09-17T13:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T14:14:06.089+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Picnic</title><content type='html'>One day, Sally Ann the doll was not too happy. "oh dear. I shall never make it to the picnic! I mean, now there's a puppy here! A rag doll is far to much hopeless." Sally Ann sighed. The family has bought a new puppy. It was going to e really hard to get to the picnic!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I shall inform this to the others. Then we shall make a plan" Thought Sally Ann. She skipped with her basket, to the little hole. She slid in. "Sally Ann! Aren't you suppose to go to the  picnic? Alfred should be waiting for you very soon by now!" Clyde said. He was a fat cheery bear. He always love cuddles. "No, i should be there by now. But a new puppy has entered! I'm too afraid of being caught by that puppy!" Sally Ann lowered her basket. she crossed her legs tightly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh dear, that must be awful! Where actually is the picnic?" Clyde stood up, and walked to the toadstool. "I think it must be at the other side of the garden, in the deep smooth bushes."Sally Ann said. "Well we're lucky then! I just found out that Bonnie has discovered a secret tunnel nearby. If you go there, you'll see him. And he says that Alfred was using that passageway too!" Clyde took a very thick book, he put on he's round spectacles, and read it very carefully. "Oh thank you Clyde! But where is it?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clyde lowered his glasses and looked at Sally Ann. "Oh it's very close to here. If you go out the front hole, and turn left you'll see Bonnie. I am very sure." Clyde put back he's spectacles in the right space, and went on reading. Sally Ann thought for a moment or two. She then went to the front hole. She turned left, and saw Bonnie standing straight, with a smart mustache. Sally Ann ran to Bonnie fast and safe. "Hallo Sally Ann! It is a pleasure to help you!" Bonnie saluted. "Oh, a pleasure. I just wanted to use this passageway. Is it okay?" Sally Ann asked very noble. "Of course! I expect you going to Alfred's picnic. You may go." Sally Ann thanked Bonnie, and went through the little narrow tunnel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A shine came. Two shines. One left, one right. "oh dear. Which way is Alfred's picnic?" Sally Ann wondered. As lucky, she found a sign saying 'Alfred's Picnic This Way!' Which meant left. Sally Ann took her basket and skipped through that narrow tunnel. A bright shine glowed. And chatter filled the air. Sally Ann skipped out. And saw a big bushy bush. Covered with flowers. "I suppose, it must be in this bush." Sally Ann went in, and the chatter went more and more louder. "Sally Ann! Oh Sally Ann! Over here!" Alfred called. Sally Ann skipped to the checkered red and white picnic mat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There, was Alfred and he's long nose, which was now short. A few other dolls and teddies were there too. Sally Ann smiled. "Oh i see you! Tho i' m really sorry of being late. A puppy just went in! I didn't know what to do! Until Clyde helped me!" Sally Ann and The others sat down and ate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That was the end. Thanks for reading! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2406507106169430377?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2406507106169430377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2406507106169430377&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2406507106169430377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2406507106169430377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/09/gigantic-lolipop.html' title='Sweet Picnic'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3700829739477031068</id><published>2010-09-17T11:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T12:02:28.892+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Lazy....</title><content type='html'>This is one fake story of how i was 'lazy'. Some of it is real i guess...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nabila! Go to your room this instants!'" Mummy said. "aww.... I'm tired..." I say. "don't talk to kakak anymore Hakeem." Kakak Deea said. "fine... whatever..." I said. "go now! or else i'll put chili in your mouth!" Mummy went to take her gloves, and took some chili out of the fridge. "OK OK! I'M SOOO SORRY!" That's what happens with panic. :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"now go." Mummy instead, puts the chili in 'her' mouth. hehe... :) (i made that one up. i thought it was funny) And i was amazed, but just went. And that's how i 'Totally Lazy...' fake story ended. Byee! =]  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3700829739477031068?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3700829739477031068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3700829739477031068&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3700829739477031068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3700829739477031068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/09/totally-lazy.html' title='Totally Lazy....'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-7783080260426272570</id><published>2010-09-16T14:06:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T14:21:21.718+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Cryout D;</title><content type='html'>"Why!? What did I say? What did I even say to insult you?"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Arifah my friend who left said in Facebook &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "&gt;&lt;span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;name&amp;quot;}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;i feel like you don't want to be my friend because u said mean things to me and talk about it in the chatting box" She said on my wall. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I felt like... So sad. I nearly wanted to tear my eyes apart. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I don't get it. What did i say. What did I? I feel so Lame. I wonder what i said, i wonder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Then the next day... I said... "Yello! It's Nabila!" And she didn't answer. I then said. "Please answer. I wanna talk to you!" I typed. I don't know what's going on! I feel regret for myself. for NO reason. U__U&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;                                                       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.fotosearch.com/bthumb/IMZ/IMZ171/tow0006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "&gt;       I'm Sad Alright. Really Sad Alright.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-7783080260426272570?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/7783080260426272570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=7783080260426272570&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7783080260426272570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7783080260426272570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-firstn-cryout-d.html' title='My First Cryout D;'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-6928530749194495728</id><published>2010-09-16T13:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T14:23:01.031+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so Happey! :)</title><content type='html'>I'm sooo happey with the blog. I feel so proud of it! I don't know why if your wondering why. -__-. I have lot's of stories I've been waiting to tell. But i never tell them. So i guess it's too late. so sad. so sad. Such as Genting Highlands. Mummy already put that. So sad. So sad. D:. And, Art Attack! I missed my chance too! D; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, i miss Ayah. My dad. But i was wondering, No. Time's not up. I can still update! huhuhu. This is quite short.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate shorts, but i don't know what else to say! ok. I'm finished. See you later! 'IM SO HAPPY!' :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.cluas.com/indie-music/Portals/0/Blog/Files/5/464/ilona2.jpg" /&gt;Happy oh happy! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-6928530749194495728?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/6928530749194495728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=6928530749194495728&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6928530749194495728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6928530749194495728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-so-happey.html' title='I&apos;m so Happey! :)'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-6039665003221179250</id><published>2010-09-16T13:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T13:58:11.576+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Thursday, September 16, 2010, Mummy edited my blog. i haven't wrote in my blog for ages! (from last year you know! 2009) So then, me and mummy opened my blog. I forgot my account username. oh no! :) then we tried, i think five times. we made it! Great mummy! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We took quite a long time looking at the designs. i don't know why. i finally clicked the icon 'family'. i saw a quite type of background! it was kiddo so people know that i'm a kid. Somehow i like it so much. I changed my profile picture, and colors. Mostly their all pink. When we were finished, we copied all my stories from my computer, to mummy's. After the copying, mummy didn't log out yet. Mummy made a new gmail account for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That was because we didn't remember the one mummy logged us in to. Happy Happy! :D Mummy told everyone about my new blog. (maybe if your reading this it's obvious you know.) Since i was 6 years old, i haven't wrote in my blog. So that meant from year2 to year3. maybe a bit after year1. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Please comment! :) I like comments. OK. Thats the end of 'My New Blog'! Thanks for reading if you read it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-6039665003221179250?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/6039665003221179250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=6039665003221179250&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6039665003221179250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6039665003221179250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-new-blog.html' title='My New Blog'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-844535150489057754</id><published>2010-09-16T12:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:32:25.189+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Giant Wall</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;“Oh dear.” Said Lucy, Carrie and Ruth’s mother Fiona. “A giant wall has covered the entire Culture Garden! It’s so huge no one ever will get to finish the expedition there!” cried mother sadly. “That’s awful! This time we’ll all see what’s behind it!” said Lucy standing up from her chair. “Well we never ever went to Culture Garden! Ever!” said Fiona washing her hands. Then a knock came from the door. “I’ll get it!” said Ruth. She ran to the door, then suddenly… “Ahhhh!!!” screamed Ruth. “What is it!” cried Fiona panicking. She ran to Ruth. A giant wall covered everything. The only thing seen was the garden and the gate. “oh my! They want to cover our cottage too!” said Fiona angrily. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Then she marched angrily to her phone she called 911. The police. “THIS WALL IS COVERING MY COTTAGE! HOW WILLI EVER GET TO GO OUT OR SEND MY KIDS TO SCHOOL THEN! HOW HUH? HOW! HOW!” screamed Fiona on the phone. “Calm down. We’re finding out too.” Said the police. “BUT HOW!!!” said Fiona. “QUICK OK! ME, FIONA, I AM SICK OF THIS! EITHER YOU QUICKLEY FIND OUT OR I LEAVE ENGLAND FOREVER!” “Please calm down. We’ll promise.” Said a smooth voice. “Tell us your number.” “014-232-5439.” Shouted Fiona.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Verdana&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then meanwhile Ruth Carrie and Lucy were saying things to each other. “ maybe we could climb across the wall and knock all the walls down!” thought Ruth. “Nahh. We might break the houses.” Said Lucy. “oh yeah…” said Ruth. “Oh I know! We could take as many books and when it is tall enough we climb up!”Said Carrie. “1 problem.” Said Ruth. “What?” said Carrie. “how do we carry all those books to another house when we are already high up the wall?” said Ruth. “ohhh…” said Carrie. “I got a perfect idea.” Said Lucy. “what!” said Ruth and Carrie. “we could pull some blocks out a bit, and climb them! We’re very good at rock-climbing right!” said Lucy. “yup.” Said Ruth. “let’s do it!” cried Carrie. All 3 of them ran outside. The pulled every block out a bit. Except some. “great! First me!” said Lucy. She climed up and up. Finally she slided down the other side. “SAFE!” she yelled. Then Ruth and Carrie began clibing together. Finally reached the top and skidded down.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-844535150489057754?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/844535150489057754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=844535150489057754&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/844535150489057754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/844535150489057754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/09/giant-wall.html' title='The Giant Wall'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-6266170514873067562</id><published>2010-08-24T12:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:46:51.341+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shop Till You Drop</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I flew of the windows, and showed off my new suit. Everyone called out ‘nice suit!’ or maybe, ‘pretty in pink!’ and maybe, ‘you go girl! I smiled. And said thanks! All the way. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“here!” Kelly pointed. I flew to the shop. And with amazement, when I stepped in, there were tons of wings ready to be bought! “welcome to Glitter Wings Store!” the cashier smiled. “Thanks for the intro Kenny!” Kelly waved. “before trying out those wings, meet the owner of the store. My brother, Kenny.” Kelly introduced. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“hi! Welcome! I’m Kenny, named after the famous winger of the year. But that year has been long time ago. Aged eleven, and married to Lawanda Lockleys.” Kenny grinned. “nice. I’m Halle. Born in Brazil, immigrated from there to U.S.A and now in Grace Land.” I grinned back. “ok now. Sorry to say Kenny, but we both have to get shopping now!” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Kelly grinned. “no need to apologize, and because your one of my special guests, it’ll cost just five gems for any pair of wings!” Kenny cried. “thank you! Very much!” Kelly thanked Kenny so much I haven't got a chance to walk yet! Then Kenny put some music on, and we both got shopping. “these wings are enough, I think this Lolita Pink/White glitter/sparkle wings are perfect!” I smiled. Of course. Take them.” Kelly said while looking at my eyes. “this and this please!” Kelly carefully placed the wings on the Glitter Wings Counter. Kelly bought plain white wings. Made from the finest thread in all planets. “five gems please,” Kenny grinned. “of course.” Kelly handed out the gems. “ok now, lets change.” Kelly leaded me to the Glitter Wings Store Changing Room. I went in there and changed my wings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-6266170514873067562?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/6266170514873067562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=6266170514873067562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6266170514873067562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6266170514873067562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/08/shop-till-you-drop.html' title='Shop Till You Drop'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8996710113519964928</id><published>2010-08-24T12:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:45:57.935+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prepare For Future</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I was scared. I was pulled of by a kind, but a weird stranger. “let me go!” I struggled. “sorry. I’m not in the mood of games.” I winked. “sigh.” the girl flew to the sky. “what? Are you kidding me? I’ll be burned up there!” I shouted. “no we won’t. wear this. And you’ll be fine.” the girl gave me a pair of wings. “why do future stuff have to be so babyish nowadays.” I sighed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“just relax. Flap your wings, and we can roam across the sky.” the girl taught me how to flap. Then I got used to it. “ I must be dreaming,” I cried. “sorry. Your not. Just get used to this everyday, and you’ll be fine. Super fine.” the girl said. When we flew five kilometers, we reached a very fine type of planet. “Welcome to Grace Planet.” the girl announced. “ and why, was it called Grace Planet?” I asked. “The Planet was named after the kindness and politeness was. As you know, mean people are banned from the city and are moved to the past, and the past, as your present time.” The girl explained. “talking about names, what’s your name?” I asked. “Sparkles. I was named after the precious animal, that was first born and was named Sparkles. But please, call me Kelly. I’ll be happier with that. And my age? I’m eleven.” Kelly introduced. “and you?” I said, “hi. I’m Halle. I’m from The Past. And I’m aged eleven too. I was born in Brazil, and immigrated to U.S.A. And now? I’m stuck with Kelly Sparkled in the future…” I sighed. I wanted to get my life usual. But now, it’s rare. More rare than my cousins adventures! “ Don’t say that! It’ll never be like that. Now come over to my House. I’ll show you around.” Kelly politely said. I and she flew, and flew, until we reached a five star mansion. “you’ve got to be kidding me. You live in there? Your sooo rich!” I extremely screamed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“only cost a few gems.” Kelly handed out a hand full of gems. “you’ll take these. You can buy your own house with it, if you want.” I now know why the planets called Grace Land. I want to live here forever! “come to my closet, I’ll give you some clothes.” Kelly kindly unlocked her mansion. “wow!” I opened jawed. “follow me,” Kelly instructed, “here is the closet. You can pick out any of these clothes here. But don’t pick the old ones.” Kelly explained. “old ones? Their my mum’s clothes!” I growled. “ against the law, must wear these nice clothes.” Kelly smiled. I was so exited. I was having all these nine hundred thousand clothes! All to myself! “ I’ll take this one. And these shoes. Ooh! And this cute hat. My choice was a silk fabric type. Lolita styled pink and white dress, with the pink glittery high heels, with the pink glitter hat, suited with my blonde locks. “wonderful! You look prettier than ever!” Kelly cried with joy.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“ I'll bring you over to the wings shop. I’ll buy you a pair of wings. Remember! It’s all your choice!” Kelly smiled. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8996710113519964928?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8996710113519964928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8996710113519964928&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8996710113519964928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8996710113519964928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/08/prepare-for-future.html' title='Prepare For Future'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-316080492013946180</id><published>2010-08-24T12:42:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:44:49.217+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Bored</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;If I could get a world on MY own, I’ll be more happier. Mum was bossing me to clean up the garden. And plant new roses. If dad could stop crying. About mum fighting with Ben. I’ll be happier. Much more happier. Because now I’m having problems of my own. I haven't finished my homework!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“And down come downstairs until you finish homework!” Mum slammed the door in my face. And I was locked in the room. I did my Bio, math, English, and art. If only I had some way to get away from mum. Somewhere where I won’t get angry at. Won’t get bossed around. My life’s like that. Homework to tears. ‘knock, knock’ the door! Somebody most be saving me! NOT. “don’t come in.” I answered. “It’s Ben!” Ben called from outside. “I’m locked in the room,” I sighed. “again? You’ve got to do your homework.” Ben replied. “just go away.” I demanded. “fine.” Ben finally said. I heard footsteps fading. And I wish I hadn't said to Ben to go away. If only I could escape…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I thought. chewing my pencil. I looked around the room. “hmm…” I thought. “aha! The windows!” I cried. I peered down. “gosh… that’s far down. I don’t feel in the mood of jumping.” I sighed. “rope. I need rope.” I thought. I searched and searched. “found it! Mum’s old belt! It’s as long!” I was lucky! I threw the rope out the window. I tied the rope on the window handle. “hope it’s strong enough.” I thought. I imagined me falling. Oh Mum’s going to ground me! I climbed slowly and steadily down the rope. “I didn’t know it was strong!” I thought happily. I looked down. “oh no! it’s Ben!” I was so shocked I nearly fell. I climbed back up the rope. And when I saw the rope was getting loose, I was so scared. But I managed to climb up the rope just in time. I never did that again.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I opened my drawers and searched for something to unlock the door. “pencil! My pencil!” I cried. When I reached the door, a voice said something to me. “do not escape. Escape is not there. Escape is here.” the voice said softly. “huh? Who was that?” I puzzled. “ Queen of lands. Said that. Please turn around.” The Queen Of Lands said more softly. “umm… ok…” I thought about turning around. And I saw a pretty girl in a pretty gown. Floating on wings. “who’re you?” I demanded. “didn’t I already tell you? Come my dear. Follow me to The Future.” The girl softly said, “but I’m not prepared for future. I’m needing to go do my homework, and I,” I was about to say another word when she spoke. “yes. I know. And now if you want to be prepared this past will freeze. And you’ll be fine.” the girl softly took my hand. Where was I going now&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-316080492013946180?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/316080492013946180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=316080492013946180&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/316080492013946180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/316080492013946180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/08/getting-bored.html' title='Getting Bored'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4521804618288335603</id><published>2010-08-16T12:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:40:16.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living At The West</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 7pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.35in; text-indent: -0.35in; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:1;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;Me and my Sister Kate, were going to see old grandfather at the west. We never been there. Until today… “pack your bags girls! We’re going there after your done packing!” Mum used her friendly tone again. We got sick of her. We liked it when she’s all funny and fierce. She’s now weird, boring and kind. After 5 minutes we both were finished packing. “you don’t need all those pretty clothes girls! We’re going to…” Dad said in a cowboy voice. “the west!” Mum and Dad said together. They danced a silly type of cowboy dance too. “what? The west?” Kate puzzled. “yup! Today’s the day of my dream!” I cried. I was filled with joy and packed more casual clothes. “what? What? The west? I thought we were…” Kate was real puzzled. “we changed our minds about the New York thing.” Mum said. “and so, we decided to the west!” Dad jumped in. “yee haw!” I singed! I pretended there was rope in my hand and I swung the rope and danced. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 7pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.35in; text-indent: -0.35in; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:1;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;“yee haw? Not. Your so joking.” Kate smiled. “if you insist!” I cried. We ran to the car. “what’s that? WHAT’S THAT?!!” Kate screamed. “a cowboy limo. We’re not taking the taxi to the airport! Plus we’re not even going to the airport! We’re going to the…” Dad was saying. “the west!” Dad, mum and me chanted. “ha-ha. Good one. Now lets throw that car away and use MY limo.” Kate smiled. “ alright. If you insist.” Dad sighed. Kate snapped her fingers, and her car unlocked. “cool.” I yawned. “get in gentlemen's and ladies.” Kate smiled. “so where we going?” Dad asked. “Airport.” Kate cried. “ok. Sure.” Dad sighed. When it was actually time to turn to the right, where the airport was, Dad turned the stirring wheel to the left. And there we have it. “yee haw!” we three cried. “thanks honey. For your improvement. 100 bucks for that!” Mum smiled. “ oh thanks. Just a little help from dad! Kate Smiled. When we reached to Cowboy Street, we had no place to park the car. “over there!” Mum pointed. “there? Its muddy there!” Kate laughed. “just do it for another 100 bucks.” Dad demanded. “ooh! Ok!” Kate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black; mso-color-index:1;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;said.when&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:+mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black; mso-color-index:1;mso-font-kerning:12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt; everyone got out the car they saw Grandfather walking with his wooden stick smiling. “daddy!” Mum cried. Running with joy. “Rubella dear!” Grandfather smiled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 7pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0.35in; text-indent: -0.35in; direction: ltr; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-ascii-font-family:&amp;quot;Arial Narrow&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: +mn-ea;mso-bidi-font-family:+mn-cs;color:black;mso-color-index:1;mso-font-kerning: 12.0pt;language:en-US"&gt;“welcome to Cowboy Street girls! You’ll be sleeping in the V.I.P hotel!” Grandfather cried. “thanks. And now I wouldn’t be sleeping on cardboard.” Kate insulted. “lets go girls. To the motel.” Dad walked away. When they reached the motel they peeped inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4521804618288335603?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4521804618288335603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4521804618288335603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4521804618288335603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4521804618288335603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/08/living-at-west.html' title='Living At The West'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-5909601123723609104</id><published>2010-07-14T12:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:50:43.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life And Relationship</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mary the fairy was cooking green eggs and ham when suddenly, POOF! I cloud of pixie smoke appeared. “Ben! You scared me!” laughed Mary. Ben was a pixie friend of Mary. “Achoo! Achoo! Should’ve done the spell right… achoo! ACHOO!!!!” Sneezed Ben. “He he! Have a rest now. Your cold might get worst.” Said Mary tidying the sofa with cushions. “Aaaachooooo!!!!” sneezed Ben. “Poor you… oh! The eggs are burning!” Mary quickly ran to the stove.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“if you’re bored Ben, you could turn on the TV. Cooking elves is on now!” cooking elves were Ben’s favorite show. “the time! Oh dear me! My shifts nearly over! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Come on Ben! Or I’ll be late!” Mary was terrified to see the time. And her shift was making new types of fairy dust. “Jackets on now! It’s going to be really chilly!” Mary ran to get her fluffy coat. “But… achoo! i… achoo! Amm sickkk!” sneezed Ben. But before another word Mary left the house. “Come on Ben! Mary ran to the car. Then she stopped and looked back. She left Ben in the house! “Oops! My fault!” poor Ben. Sneezing and sneezing. Dust was everywhere! “BEN! COME ON!” shouted Mary. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ben was still relaxing on the couch. “Oops!” cried Ben. He took his coat and flew to the car with Mary. “Slow down&lt;span style="font-size: 20.0pt;line-height:115%"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mary! Im having a cold!” Mary was ignoring Ben real bad. Ben then got hurt. Then he decided to never be friend Mary AGAIN. “I’M OUT OF HERE!” shouted Ben. “Mary then soon got hurt. She felt regret for ignoring Ben. But she was still in traffic. She thought all over again. And thought. Was life more important than relationship? She thought hard. Then she finally said LIFE. Poor Ben. After Mary has said Life was more important, god of relations got mad. She then gave Mary a lesson. No one to like her as she thought life was more important. Then Mary quickly ran to the workshop. But no one wanted to talk to her.&lt;span style="font-size:20.0pt;line-height:115%"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-5909601123723609104?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/5909601123723609104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=5909601123723609104&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/5909601123723609104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/5909601123723609104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/09/life-and-relationship.html' title='Life And Relationship'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-503116244309094969</id><published>2010-05-11T12:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:48:34.739+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Magic Rocking Chair</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Grace, six years old, lives in a pretty cottage called Primrose Cottage. But Grace doesn’t live with her mum or dad anymore. Her dad was in the hospital, having a bad cold. Her mum? LODES of work. Papers, novels, sign, checks, wrong, right, and everything else. So Grace lived with her granny. “Granny! Can you read me a story?” Grace loved Granny reading stories. She likes it so much that she sleeps on Granny’s lap! “oh, come here my lovely dear. Now once upon a time, in the western desert was a cowgirl…” Granny said followed on. When the story finished Grace went to bed. In early sunrise, while Granny was cooking breakfast, Grace decided sitting on Granny’s rocking chair. “He he! This is fun!” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Grace couldn’t stop laughing. Until a swirl and a pop! A roll and a plop! Grace was rocking so fast it began to have pink dust all around her. She was carried away in a large pink hole and KABOOSH! She arrived at the Western Desert. “Ooh! This is in Granny’s story!” Grace said looking around. Until ‘BUMP!’ “Oh I’m sorry! Mind my steps!” a voice said. The voice was a pretty looking cowgirl. “wow! Nice cowgirl suit!” said the girl. “thanks, a WHAT! I was wearing my night gown just now. Um.. sorry. What’s your name?” Grace was feeling red. “Hannah. Yours?” Grace didn’t know what to say. “Grace.” “come to my place! You’ll be more comfortable there!” Hannah seemed very nice. “drink this.” Hannah said. They became smaller and smaller. Until they reached a tiny door.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“come in!” Hannah said. “OMG!” Grace wrote in the air. The floor had a nice brown pale wood color, red shiny disco walls, cool tunnel doors and a FANTASTIC dressing room and living room. “WOW!” whispered Grace. Hannah giggled. “here, have some hot coca. And have a rest, if you like.” Hannah said so politely Grace nearly fainted.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-503116244309094969?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/503116244309094969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=503116244309094969&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/503116244309094969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/503116244309094969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/05/magic-rocking-chair.html' title='The Magic Rocking Chair'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4531346587425464393</id><published>2010-05-09T13:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T13:19:17.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Magical Stone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lisa lived in a cottage called Primrose. Lisa had long curly golden hair. Not even one tip was dirty. One day Lisa decided to go out and play with Ben the elf. But when Lisa couldn’t see Ben she was really sad. But until she had a green cloud of big jealousy. Ben was playing with Mary the ballerina. They were having a dancing game. “They’re not including me? Fine then. I’ll pick some roses for Ben and he’ll see how kind and grateful I am. So Lisa did. While she picked her last rose, she saw a rather rare looking stone. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“It’s Ben’s favorite color! Maybe I should take it.” And Lisa did. She skipped herself to the Daisy Park where Mary and Ben were playing. Lisa hid behind a rose bush. “Ha-ha! Mary catch!” “Ben! Here catch too!” Lisa was really sad. She dropped her roses but held on tight for the stone. Lisa couldn’t believe it. She ran home, tears dropping down her rose cheeks. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And she fell in bed. “I’ll keep you safe!” she sobbed, putting away the stone. The door bell ringed. “LISA! BEN’S HERE!” said mum. Lisa didn’t want to answer. She locked the door and shut the windows. She never wanted to see Ben Again. Soon the stone began to swirl. Lisa watched. And the stone pictured all the things Lisa did with Ben. The stone talked. “Lisa, even though you are jealous doesn’t mean you can’t play with Ben.” A tear dropped on the stone and everything disappeared. Lisa thought. Then agreed. She then said.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“EVEN THOUGH I AM JEALOUS DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T PLAY WITH THEM ANYMORE!” she said bravely. But she still didn’t open the door. “Even though I am…” the stone swirled and the stone pictured Ben and Mary playing outside. “Sorry. Too late. Ben and Mary gave up and played in the park. You know you’ll have much more fun there.” Lisa didn’t have a chance to answer. The stone picture disappeared.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And Lisa Never EVER, EVER talked to Ben again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4531346587425464393?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4531346587425464393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4531346587425464393&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4531346587425464393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4531346587425464393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/05/magical-stone.html' title='The Magical Stone'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3525442355391164442</id><published>2010-04-24T12:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:42:05.810+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holiday</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Do you like trips? I do. But the worst thing about it is ‘packing’. My mum says “packing is great! Because you feel grand!” I don’t even get it. The only thing I find grand is in ‘packing’. See? Pack‘king’ my mum opened the door and gave me my pink sparkly bag. Oh great. I sighed. This is dumb. “MUM! I don’t want this bag! It doesn’t fit my 7 slippers!” not to mention ‘sequin slippers’. “Coleen! What in the world are you- 7 slippers? 7? Coleen! Think!” dad said as he gave me my new big pink shiny bag. Parents don’t get what fashion means. Sigh. I flipped open my bag. I arranged my 7 slippers in order, my white and pink with a matching hat swimsuit, a hoodie with snickers, trousers and undies. My little 5 year old sister Em came in and jumped on my bed. “neat!” she said. Like yes! I always keep stuff neat. Not like her. “EM! What are you doing here! Have you packed your stuff up yet?!” I yelled. “done!” she jumped up and down like a frog. “your magazines?” I asked. “oops! Better put them in!” I was so tired. Not to mention that Em LOVES volleyball. Like she has a pal called ‘THE BALL’ she always wins the game. We booked a shiny hotel! And… ooooops! “COLEEN! COME HERE NOW! YOUR TOO SLOW! WE’LL MISS THE FLIGHT!” mum shouted. Oh no! we were in the airport waiting for the plane. Did I say it yet? No. we’re going to Buddy Beach! The plane buzzed loud when we came walking up the steps. I shivered. I hated planes. They make me be very sick. We reached the hotel and me and Em just stared. The hotel had grand steps, a big pool and a gym! It was heaven! I flipped open my guide book. “we’re at the &lt;i&gt;Bronze De Hotel!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;While me and Emma waited for mum and dad to finish checking up there was a great shock. The manager was called Firenze. Their wife is Trisha and son is Jack. We were at my bedroom. Emma’s bedroom too.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My bedroom was pink with cool pinkie stuff. Emma’s was blue. With all volleyball stuff. I went to the toilet… even the toilet was pink! Heavens! I opened my suitcase and unpacked my stuff. I wore my black and pink shorts with my pink singlet. And my pink and white snickers. Emma was wearing her volleyball logo shirt and green shorts. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“hi!” said Jack. Hmm? Peeping in rooms? Not so kind. “oh hi!” I replied. “like your bedroom?” he asked. “yeah.” I mumbled. What am I doing? He’s way cute! And I’m dumb? “can I see Emma?” he asked again. “next door.” I said. He closed the door and went to see Emma. I jumped on bed. He was dreamy. Jack wanted to meet me again. “um… can we go to the pool tonight?” he asked. “sure!” I said. “ 10 sharp. Tonight. Bye.” he said. YESSS! I picked my pink cozy dress and wore it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3525442355391164442?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3525442355391164442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3525442355391164442&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3525442355391164442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3525442355391164442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/04/holiday.html' title='The Holiday'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2750778765692943673</id><published>2010-04-17T12:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:53:16.959+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Angel's Diary - Breakup</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size:20.0pt;line-height:115%"&gt;Hi! Welcome to the BFC! There’s Jude, Alicia, Ella, Roxie and me! Angel. You better see my sister. She’s 1 big fan of the Beat Boyz. All I care about is pets. I have about 5 and my mum says I could buy another pet just to make a balance. And the BFC which stands for Best Friends Club has been a… ok. 5 members. Sounds pretty fair for me. I just got the internet working when Roxie my sister slammed it closed. “you better know what your doing!” she said shaking my shoulders. I was suppose to get tickets online but I was checking out the pet store website. “ok... I just don’t feel confident. Why not you do it?” I said. Before Roxie could even answer the bell ringed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size:20.0pt;line-height:115%"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then our bedroom door flew open. “found the tickets?” asked Ella. She was wearing her formal attire and so was the rest. “this little angel here didn’t do her homework.” Roxie said. “WHAT?!” cried Jude. She hated wearing a dress. “I should’ve not wore this red dress then! Oh c’mon!”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I shrugged my shoulders. I just hated it when someone complains to me. “sorry guys. It’s my sister. You can go home. We’ll be on the internet.” said Roxie. When she mentioned ‘SISTER’ she pointed at me. “argh!” said Jude. She was trying to run but she couldn’t she was on heels. Soon the internet browser started. And we talked. And talked. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size:20.0pt;line-height:115%"&gt;I mean we did had a long talk. And please. This time Ella has tickets and she wants to go to the concert. There was only 3 tickets though. “Roxie! Tickets! I decide you me and Jude to the concert!” cried Ella. Me and Alicia stared. Their like kicking US out. And after the concert Roxie started making the fight at NIGHT. On the website.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size:20.0pt;line-height:115%"&gt;Ok… we SHOULD say sorry. It was rude to go offline not even talking, and Roxie said she DIDN’T want to sleep with me tonight. So she slept at Ella’s house. The next day was school. Now Roxie, Ella and Jude did NOT sit at the patch of grass where we always sit. Then me and Alicia were alone. We saw the others playing and talking, this time the internet blurted. It was fast. I went on mail and e-mailed Ella. Yes. This is THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2750778765692943673?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2750778765692943673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2750778765692943673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2750778765692943673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2750778765692943673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/04/angels-diary-breakup.html' title='Angel&apos;s Diary - Breakup'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8763732013435928049</id><published>2010-02-13T12:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:35:06.051+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Betsy-May Goes For A Picnic</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Betsy-May was walking in the garden when she heard laughter next door. Without nanny and mother seeing she took a wooden stool out from the shed and stood on it. She could see next doors fun picnic! It was Sam’s family. He had oranges, sandwiches and cupcakes! Betsy-May drooled. Then she crept in her back gate and took out a table. “Perfect for a picnic!”She thought. She then ran in the house and took her dollies and her china tea set. After that she went in the shed and took five stools for sitting on. “Oops! Forgot the cushions!!” she whispered. She ran in her living room and took five cushions to sit on and relax. She went in the kitchen. Then she saw cupcakes. “Great! Then I could get the lemonade too!!” she said quietly and delightedly. She then crawled and took all she could find. She got a table cloth in the shed and found pepper, salt and cream. She then took her two dolls and sat them down on the cushions. Then she called mother and nanny. They went outside and said “wow!! Betsy-May you are splendid!” then they all sat down and ate. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8763732013435928049?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8763732013435928049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8763732013435928049&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8763732013435928049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8763732013435928049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2010/02/betsy-may-goes-for-picnic.html' title='Betsy-May Goes For A Picnic'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-310567681409571345</id><published>2009-12-15T18:51:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T18:59:36.958+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Angelina’s Chance To The Market</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once there lived a mouse called Angelina. She lived in Mouse City. Her friend called Alice was Angelina’s friend until Kindergarten to Grade 3. “Angel!” “Cried Alice for a short form.” “Yeah! “ Cried Angelina back. “I found great news!!” shouted Alice running in wiggles on the path to Angelina. “What is it? What is it!” said Angelina excitedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Angelina like hearing fun news. “Well, there’s a sale market selling all girls stuff! Plus they have toys, dolls, games and fun noisy drummer clowns and rattles for babies and for little girls like us!” shouted Alice waving the newspaper around Angelina’s eyes. “Wow! Let me see the newspaper!” said Angelina jumping up and down. “Yes!!!” said Alice and Angelina Jumping up and down and kept on saying yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“I can’t believe it! A day in a market without boys!!” said Angelina happily. “I know! Its fun!” said Alice in a jubilant and a gusto way. “Mother! I have got the greatest news for girls!” said Angelina while Alice was running with her to Angelina’s house. “What is it dear?” said Angelina’s mother Fiona. “Well we have a market in the middle of the city selling girl stuff only!” said Angelina. “Wow!” said Fiona. “Can I see if you’re making it true?” said Fiona tapping her table with her cooking spoon. “Here Auntie Fiona!” said Alice politely. “I guess so I will let you both go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But Alice dear, ask your mum too before hitting the market. And kids use your bikes!” said Fiona. “I wonder if my mum will say yes?” asked Alice to Angelina. “I hope so!” said Angelina. The same thing happened to Alice’s mother. Her mother said yes so the two girls ran to their bikes at Alice’s gate and rode as fast as they could to the market. “Wow!” said Alice’s voice through the crowd of girls chattering. I remembered my mum giving me and you money.” Said Angelina happily. “Half a crown right?!” said Alice jumping round and round. “Yup I guess!” said Angelina. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“We should buy something for our mothers. “Said Alice. “Yeah!” said Angelina. “I am going to buy her a purse!” said Alice. “I am going to buy her a necklace and bracelet!” said Angelina. “Want to buy our stuff first? I want to buy my mother’s. Or than if I spend too much on my toy, I won’t have enough coins to buy my mother’s purse!” said Alice. “Your right! I will buy my mother’s stuff first.” Angelina agreed. Then they scattered to the shops to buy their stuff. Next they had quarter a crown now. “I should spend my whole coins on my toy!” said Angelina while she was walking with Alice down the road to the toy shop. “Maybe I would too!” said Alice happily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then they reached the toy shop. “That ballerina doll is so pretty!” said Alice. It was five coins. Alice had enough coins. “I would love to buy it!” said Alice as she took out from her purple purse five coins. She gave them to the shopkeeper. “I would love that princess music box! Said Angelina joy fully. It was five coins too. Angelina handed out five coins to the shopkeeper and the two girls held their toys and presents for their mothers in a pink plastic bag. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then the both got to their bike and carefully handed down their plastic bags in their front basket. They did it carefully because they didn’t want their charming presents for their mothers to be broken. Then rode all the way home. Their mothers were so surprised and were really happy that they got their presents. Their mothers were also very happy they didn’t come late. “Well done dear!” said Alice’s and Angelina’s parents. Well, do you think they were good? If you did they are! How generous they are!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-310567681409571345?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/310567681409571345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=310567681409571345&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/310567681409571345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/310567681409571345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/12/angelinas-chance-to-market.html' title='Angelina’s Chance To The Market'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3366869519404676605</id><published>2009-11-08T18:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:25:19.357+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sparkling Forest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1 : The Country&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once there lived three happy children. Mary, Ben and Cortina. They actually lived in a big noisy town but their Dad had got a new job in the country. “kids you may find the country a little boring for a while. I expect you might want to pack some great toys and nice clothes with you.” said Dad. “what? No way I will get to plant some flowers and have a garden!” said Mary. “And I shall’ have a new autumn vegetable salad. by planting vegetables in Mary's garden… if she minds.” said Cortina shyly. “well I’ll get a wonderful walk in the garden. It would be splendid!” said Ben merrily. “we will see then!” said Dad. “well Cortina I shall’ say you may be invited in my garden!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I really meant all of you! Blasted Mary to Cortina. “why thank you…” said Cortina quietly. A big van came and four big men helped Mum and Dad carry the luggage. "how long are we going to stay in the country?”said Ben to Mum. “about nearly forever until Dad has finished his work if you don’t mind.” answered mum to Ben’s question. “oh…” said Ben a bit sadly. “don’t worry my dear Ben, I thought you said you would have a splendid fun time!” said Mum to Ben. “yeah I will!” Ben just remembered and said to Mum. “ get in kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We would not like to be late!” said dad to Mary, Cortina and Ben. Broom pomp! Dad started the engine of his car and drove away. “I wonder if it will be long?”said Mary happily. “Dear Mary it won’t be that long because our house is near the country.” answered Mum back to Mary’s question. “Great and Splendid!” shouted Mary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“Here we go to the country I shall’ have a garden! We shall’ get a penny in a day because we all work faster!” sang Mary in the car. “please stop singing Mary. It’s quite annoying.” said Cortina in a loud whisper. “sorry!” whispered Mary back to Cortina. “Here we are! The quiet Country.” said Dad happily. A man came and introduced itself and led the way to their new home. “wow!” said Cortina when everyone arrived to the house. “ Here’s your key sir.” said the man to Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After that the man took a funny car and drove himself back to the station. “ Hey! Ben! Cortina! Look at our bedroom!” Called Mary to Cortina and Ben. “Wow!” said the three kids. “a big bed fitting three of us! A cupboard and splendid lamps!” shouted Ben excitedly. “yeah it is nice.” said Cortina smiling. “Kids! Time for breakfast! You don’t want it to be cold!” called Mum to Cortina Ben and Mary. “Coming Mum!” called back Ben. “Wow! Sausages and potatoes and scrambled egg!” Said Cortina hungrily. “where did you get these food Mum?” said Mary hungrily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I quickly went out and I saw a food market. I bought lots of food and I still have ten pence.” explained Mum to the three hungry kids. “now have a nice breakfast or you’ll have a shorter time playing outside.” said mum in a hurry. “ Mum where are you going?” said Ben. “No dear no where. I’m just preparing a little snack for that you are going to have a little snack outside if you want.” said mum. “Splendid!” shouted Mary. “ can we go in to a faraway place?” said Cortina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As you are all old enough. Ben’s nine, Mary’s eight and your seven.” said Mum to Cortina. Ding dong! “ oh gracious who could be here in this moment?” asked Mum to her kids. “I’ll open the door!” shouted Ben to Mum. “hello there!” came a sweet voice. She had curly black locks and green eyes.”Hi! I’m Lily. I live right next door. Now I know I’m going to be your next door friend!” Lily said in a sweet water wavy voice. “well hello there. I expect you must be six. You may play with my kids. Please wait outside.” said Mum kindly to Lily. “Well I am really six!” Said Lily in a wavy voice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3366869519404676605?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3366869519404676605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3366869519404676605&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3366869519404676605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3366869519404676605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/11/sparkling-forest.html' title='The Sparkling Forest'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3579203858781516238</id><published>2009-11-07T19:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:25:41.997+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sparkling Forest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 2: Next Door Lily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“Hi! I’m Cortina!” said Cortina happily. “nice to meet you! I’m Mary!” said Mary cheerfully. “Hey there want to be friends? Name’s Ben.” Said Ben merrily. “Konichiwa!” Said Lily. “ so your Japanese?” said Cortina Shyly. “Yup!” said Lily back. “Come to my house and meet my family. You may get to try out Japanese food.” Said Lily in her rushing water voice. “We’ll see and ask our Mum” said Cortina happily. Bang! Went the door a bit loudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“Mum! Can we go to Lily’s house?” Called Cortina to Mum. “Sure but be back by afternoon ok!” called back mother. “Ok!” said the kids excitedly. “ did your Mum let you?” asked Lily. “ yup! She said we could be back until afternoon.” said Cortina. “Great!” said Lily in her loud wavy voice. “follow me to this path. If you see flowers please do not touch them. As the flowers are really sad today.” explained Lily to Cortina, Ben and Mary. Stomp Stomp!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Their footsteps became louder. “Here we are!” said Lily. “Please put your shoes on the rack and walk up the steps.” said Lily softly. “can I ring the bell?” said Mary. “A bell we don’t have a ball the hand bells are inside.” said Lily confused. “Oh…” said Mary in a giggly sort of voice. Knock knock! Lily knocked the door two times. “Hello there. You must be lily’s new friends. Come in.” said Lily’s mum sweetly. “wow!” said the three children Cortina, Mary and Ben. “Is it nice?” said Lily’s Dad and Mum nicely. “It’s… amazing!” said Cortina, Mary and Ben amazingly. “Please have a seat on the red or green cushions.” said a terribly cute voice. “ this is my little sister Snowey.” said Lily. “she’s so cute!” said Ben Kindly. “Oh No!” it’s afternoon already see you later guys!” said Cortina. “See you!” said Lily back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Quickly! Get our shoes and let’s go!” said Ben hurrying down the steps and nearly fell down. “ be careful Ben! Mind your step!” said Mary in a rush too. Then they ran past the lake and quickly ringed the bell on their house door and scattered in. “Kids what's the hurry?” said Mum. “we rushed…” said Cortina quietly. “Ok now kids have dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I bought roast beef and mash potatoes.” said Mum relaxed. “Yum!” said Cortina, Ben and Mary hungrily. Munch Crunch! They ate until they were all full! Ding dong! The bell went on the door. “that’s Dad.” “Hello sweetie!” said Dad to Mum. “ hello Cortina ,Mary and Ben!”said Dad hugging them. “ here’s dinner sweetie.” said Mum to Dad. “Yum!” said Dad. “Good Kids. You are able to watch TV tonight” said Mum. “Yay!” said the three children happily. “Lets watch Danni And Sarah show!” said Mary. “Sure!” said Cortina and Ben. After the show the three kids were very sleepy. Three of them slipped in their pajama's and got into bed. Cortina was the youngest so she slept in the middle. Joe read a bedtime story and Mary told Cortina a story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After that they were all sleeping in the magical dream of nights. Next day mother got another yummy meal for breakfast and Cortina, Mary and Ben went out to the Forest and explored having a picnic outside. “Great! A picnic outside!” shouted the three children happily. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3579203858781516238?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3579203858781516238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3579203858781516238&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3579203858781516238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3579203858781516238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/11/sparkling-forest-chapter-2.html' title='The Sparkling Forest'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4466765130629883789</id><published>2009-11-06T19:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:26:08.024+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sparkling Forest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 3: Picnic Outside&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;“let’s explore in the forest!” said Cortina shyly. “sure!” said Ben and Mary. The three ran and ran until they reached the forest. “it’s just like the tree’s are telling secrets to each other!” said Mary. wisha wisha wisha. Then they spread their picnic mat and ate sandwiches and lemonade. “yummy yummy!” said Ben in a hungry voice. “what's that noise? It’s in the bushes!” said Mary quietly. “hide behind this tree trunk!” whispered Cortina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The three kids scrambled behind the tree trunk, and watched and watched… then stared. Then ten toadstools popped out and grew so fast. “Look!” said Ben in a loud whisper. Then ten elves went and had a meeting. “wow!” said Mary in a whisper. Suddenly, an elf got out some silver dust from his pocket and spread it all over a little spot of grass. Then a enormous toadstool grew and one by one the elves rode a funny lift up to the topmost of the toadstool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Each elf went in a curved door and had a rest in their couches. “wow! You saw that guys?” said Ben excitedly. “yes!” said the two girls Cortina and Mary. Ben whistled five times. Then out of a rabbit hole came a rabbit. “excuse me?” said the rabbit in a low sort of voice. Then the three children ran out took their picnic basket and said hi to the rabbit. “what do you want. I’m Mr. Whiskers. And if you whistle five times your calling me.” he said grumpily. “sorry… we didn’t mean too. I didn’t know that and I whistled five times. I’m so sorry.” said Ben. “I take your apology. Thank you and bye.” said the rabbit in his low voice again. “ I guess I was being a bit nosey…” said Ben sadly. “ don’t worry Ben. His just a rabbit.” said Cortina kindly. “Your right.” said Ben a bit happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after that problem, Mary said a bit nosily, “lets climb the giant toadstool!” “let’s try it!” said Ben “ok then” said Cortina quietly. They rode the funny lift up and knocked a pretty pink door. Then the door opened and a pretty Fair fairy said “nice to meet you! My name is Silky!” said the fairy. “hi!” said the three kids. “my name’s Ben that’s Cortina and this is Mary.” said Ben.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“ why is your name called silky?” asked Mary to Silky. “ well my hair is long and silky that’s why my name was silky. Another reason is because I love sowing clothes made of silk.” explained Silky to Mary. “Cool!” said Mary. “I could give you a tour if you want?” said Silky shyly. “sure!” said Ben. “follow me and I’ll introduce you to my best friend Fred.” said Silky leading the way. Then silky knocked a blue door. Then out came an elf. “hi Fred! Here are my new friends! Mary, Ben and Cortina.” said Silky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“Hey there guys! Come in and have some Roll Pops.” said Fred in a west sort of voice. “What are Roll Pops?” asked Cortina to Fred. “have one and see!” said Fred. “then Cortina tasted one and POP! Went in her mouth and barbeque sauce got out and spread all over in Cortina’s mouth! “WOW!” said Cortina amazed. “Found out why it name’s like that and what it means?” said Fred. “yeah!” said Cortina talking with her mouth full. “Bye Fred!” said Silky and the others. “my next best friend is called Perry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She is a fairy like me to!” said Silky getting on the funny lift. Cortina, Ben and Mary followed in the lift and Silky said down second floor. The lift went down second floor and Silky knocked on a white door. And out came a pretty fair lady with cherry colored hair and white frosting highlights. “ hi there! Perry let me introduce you to my three new friends called Ben, Cortina and Mary.” said Silky. “Come in and have some cherry pies.” said Perry. “the four went in and oh it was wonderful! The cherry pies were splendid! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4466765130629883789?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4466765130629883789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4466765130629883789&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4466765130629883789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4466765130629883789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/11/sparkling-forest_03.html' title='The Sparkling Forest'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-6838435204463260667</id><published>2009-11-05T19:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:26:39.162+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sparkling Forest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 4: Such a lovely day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ben, Mary and Cortina, do you want to see my friend?” said Perry. “Sure!” said the three kids. “follow me and I lead you.” said Perry merrily. Then Perry led them to a yellow door. It had a sign that said ring doorbell don’t knock. “please don’t knock. The knocker will never let go of you because he thinks all girls are all pretty.” said Perry warning everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“gosh! That’s a loving knocker!” said Ben giggling. Perry ringed the doorbell and waited. “hello there! My Perry, you look gorgeous today! Come in with your friends.” said Perry’s friend the boy fairy. “why thank you Peter.” said Perry thankfully. “have some Tea.” said Peter kindly to everyone. “why is the tea blue?” said Cortina puzzled. “why you see the tea contains blue milk from a bluchin cow. It is a mysterious name but soon you’ll get used to it.” explained Peter to everyone. “why Peter here are my friends. Silky, Mary, Cortina and Ben.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;These four are new to you but Silky is my best friend and Ben, Mary and Cortina are new to this place. Silky is giving them a big tour around.” said Perry chatting a lot. “I am so sorry, Silky Perry and Peter, we have to go back to our home in our little cottage. We really enjoyed the tour Silky. Can you help us lead the way down the giant toadstool?” asked Cortina a bit sadly that she enjoyed everything very much. “sure! Bye Perry and Peter!” said Silky. Then down they went on the first floor of the toadstool. “here we are. I am just to say goodbye here’s a map to show you everywhere. Now bye!” said Silky as the three kids walked away. Then the three told their mother everything. “well Dad called and said he heard about a forest and it was called The Sparkling Forest. You must have been through it then!” said mother surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ding Dong! Went the bell. “yay! It’s Dad!” said Mary. “hello dear! And hello Ben Cortina and Mary.” said Dad to everyone. Ding Dong! Went the bell again. “now this must be Lily.” said Mum. “I’ll open the door!” said Mary. “hello!” said Lily waving. “hi Lily!” said Mary. “come in.” said Cortina happily. Lily’s the name. hello! Is this your Dad and Mum?” asked Lily. “yeah.” said Ben. “nice to meet you.” said Dad in Japanese. “you know Japanese?” said Lily surprised. “yes” said Dad smiling. “cool I am Cortina, Mary and Ben’s friend next door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I wanted to bring my little sister Snowey, but my mum said no I couldn’t she was still young. She was five years old.” said Lily in Japanese. “oh” said Dad. “Mum what’s for dinner?” said Ben. “broccoli with sauce and spaghetti. “Yum!” said Cortina, Mary, Ben and Lily. “you may have some tonight. Your our guest!” said Dad to Lily. “Yum yum yum!” said Lily hungrily. Then the four kids ate until their Mum said stop. “Excuse me Ben’s Mum my Mum said I’m sleeping with you tonight.” said Lily shyly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“Ben! You’re the oldest please give space for Lily on the bed okay?” said Mum to Ben. “yeah!” said Ben having a broccoli full in his mouth. “here is my stuff. I’ll be staying here for two days I suppose.” said Lily. “okay.” said Mum. “Bedtime kids!” said Mum. “follow me Lily, to our room.” said Cortina leading the way. “leave your bag here.” said Mary. The four managed to take a bath one by one. They slipped in their pajamas and went to bed. “the bed is actually fit for five people but anyway hop in the bed.” said Ben. Ben told Lily a story and Mary told Cortina a story. At eight o’clock everyone was fast asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-6838435204463260667?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/6838435204463260667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=6838435204463260667&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6838435204463260667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6838435204463260667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/11/sparkling-forest_02.html' title='The Sparkling Forest'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2920991625442587267</id><published>2009-11-04T19:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:27:01.435+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sparkling Forest</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 5: Lily got a shock&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very next day everyone woke up early. Cortina even though she was the youngest she always woke up early. Cortina woke up the earliest. Then Ben after that Lily and last Mary. “kids! Time for breakfast! Quickly change or the breakfast will be cold!” called mum to Lily, Cortina, Mary and Ben. “coming!” called Mary back. “wow! Cortina’s Mum where did you get these food!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I should tell my mother where!” said Lily hungrily and amazed. “well… I went out on last Thursday and I saw a little market past the train station. And it might be quite far but I managed it and it was a food market and food was just under five pence! So I bought many things in the morning at three o’clock.” explained Mum to Lily. “wow!” please give me your phone number please?” asked Lily politely. “sure here I’ll write it down and you copy it on this note. Scribble! Went Lily’s pencil really fast. Crunch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The four kids ate and ate. “Mum can all of us including Lily go to the Sparkling Forest and have a picnic?” asked Cortina. “sure but be careful girls and Ben.” said Mum warning them. “Lily is a new guest so Lily might get lost! So be good three of you. Lily make sure they don’t lose you okay? And just call me auntie Fiona. Okay kids see you and here is your basket. Be careful!” said Mum calling them and waving goodbye. “sure!” said the four kids and ran down the path. Cortina explained all about the forest and told her that no one should no. Except Cortina, Ben and Mary, and our Mum and Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;[Sorry! It will be continue in The Strange Visitor Part 2!] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2920991625442587267?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2920991625442587267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2920991625442587267&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2920991625442587267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2920991625442587267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/11/sparkling-forest_01.html' title='The Sparkling Forest'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1657993091896179784</id><published>2009-11-03T13:32:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T13:36:59.483+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Juice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mum, how about now? Not now hon. She doesn’t care about the juice…. HMPH! I guess &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will do one myself…. MUM!!!! Yes sweetie I am busy in the kitchen. Please can you be a bit quiet? But mum!! OK! For the last moment yes? Can I have your A4 sheets of paper and your A5 sheets of paper? Well… hon I will let you, but if I see lodes of them in the bin which you are ment to be wasting, NO MORE! Ok mum! CIAO! Lets write to Caitlyn. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Caitlyn, I have a note that at my backyard garden there will be a juice. I have to tell you, toys, books and extra food are allowed. But only for special moments. Please remember to bring back your stuff if not, things will be sent to the owner on school days. If owner isn’t here then put in cubby. Sincerely noted by Jessie McCarthy.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I will do this to the rest. About 28 people altogether. MUM! Yes hon for the last TIMME!! Can you prepare a barbecue in the backyard garden? Ok jess. But I and dad will allow you that by you cleaning the backyard garden and garage. If you past this test we will help if you tell us all about it. DEAL MUM! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES! A Juice of my own!! I cannot wait! JES! YES MUM! IF THE PARTY WANTS TO START SOON CLEAN THE BACK GARDEN AND THE GARAGE! YES MUM! Prepare the clothes and food…. I will think about that, by the way time to start my cleaning! [AFTER SCHOOL ALREADY] Mum the party’s starting tomorrow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear hon I and mum want to know what is this all about? Well… I want to make a JUICE of my own…. Yeah and then hon? Wellll… a juice needs food and music and lodes of fun and I….. yes sweetie yes? I WANT TO HAVE A PARTY AND PEOPLE ALTOGETHER IS 28!! [CRYING] oh sweetie, is it because I didn’t care about it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah….hawhaw… L oh sweetie no no… we just pretended look at the front garden and you will see. Have you sent the invitations? No… ok good. Now come hon let me show you. Tap tap….. The doors knocking! I will get it! Wow!!! My friends my granny pappy! Thank you soooo much mum and dad!!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1657993091896179784?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1657993091896179784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1657993091896179784&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1657993091896179784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1657993091896179784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/11/juice.html' title='The Juice'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-5288165239690122040</id><published>2009-08-01T07:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T07:40:34.687+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mystery Of The Broken Treasure Box</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was really happy until something bad happened. If you can help me solve it it’s a real pleasure!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to my story. If you solve it please tell me on yahoo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking with my brother playing spies. Until I saw something really strange and I went down to see what the problem was. I went really confused chat with my brother… and, golly cheese! My favourite history treasure box was broken! If I could get a picture of it, you will see it’s into pieces! Oh it is just stuck in my head and it hurts! I wish I could fix it! Well… I found a spot for it to stay. My mini robot bedroom! It is happy but when someone comes I will take the broken treasure box and show them and say “can you fix this? Do you know anyone who can fix it?” it’s so embarrassing when I say that though… I feel in my head out of control buzzing out the pieces of my treasure box. I am real frustrated…&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-5288165239690122040?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/5288165239690122040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=5288165239690122040&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/5288165239690122040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/5288165239690122040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/08/mystery-of-broken-treasure-box.html' title='The Mystery Of The Broken Treasure Box'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1246196300085293676</id><published>2009-07-18T13:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T13:16:54.991+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mum Is Best</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SmFaSaGHfuI/AAAAAAAAABo/XMMvIO1yinw/s1600-h/mommy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359664303836724962" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SmFaSaGHfuI/AAAAAAAAABo/XMMvIO1yinw/s320/mommy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My mum’s best&lt;br /&gt;My mum’s best!&lt;br /&gt;I love my mum&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder&lt;br /&gt;If she likes a plum?&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but my mum!&lt;br /&gt;I love no one but my mum!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to me&lt;br /&gt;You have to see…..&lt;br /&gt;I want you to be with me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are gone&lt;br /&gt;I think of you&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;Never go away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I swear I say&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You are fun&lt;br /&gt;You are neat and tidy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You are my mum&lt;br /&gt;And you are&lt;br /&gt;Cuddly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I love my mum!&lt;br /&gt;I love my mum!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Nabila to Mommy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1246196300085293676?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1246196300085293676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1246196300085293676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1246196300085293676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1246196300085293676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-mum-is-best.html' title='My Mum Is Best'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SmFaSaGHfuI/AAAAAAAAABo/XMMvIO1yinw/s72-c/mommy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2120746157667165908</id><published>2009-07-16T19:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T20:01:59.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad News 'N' Good News Of This Week</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was an exciting week this year. but there is a problem. but on the bright side i got great news today! the bad news is saturday-yesterday it was fire bad! but the good news is i had great time playing the monopoly and i was really happy going to the libary. i borrowed three books. three weeks i can have them! but i got to remember to return it back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am also amazed that hakeem could read so my mom let my brother Hakeem get three books too! he got these non-fiction books. but i got fiction books only. i mean first i wanted non-fiction, but i think storys will help me best. i also get to be a member in the libary! me and Hakeem got our cards. when we have been already at the libary, i was tired... my books was kind of heavy. i went in the car and check out the libary member card i got!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359026572848858210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/Sl8WRlCJBGI/AAAAAAAAABg/404KjPGRVPA/s320/nabila+library+card.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;i am happy enjoying days but sometimes people they make my nearly best day become even worst............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2120746157667165908?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2120746157667165908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2120746157667165908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2120746157667165908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2120746157667165908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/07/bad-news-n-good-news-of-this-week.html' title='Bad News &apos;N&apos; Good News Of This Week'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/Sl8WRlCJBGI/AAAAAAAAABg/404KjPGRVPA/s72-c/nabila+library+card.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-6406482164211417594</id><published>2009-07-14T14:45:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T14:47:41.294+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are going to London</title><content type='html'>The Bratz just organized a cool party before leaving Hollywood. So this is the story how they went to London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yasmin: guys maybe we could do a little party before we go tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cloe: yeah maybe… but its so exiting going to London, I want to scream out loud!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: calm down angel. Pretty princess is right. We should say bye to Hollywood here tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade: yeah that’s right. Angel believe it! Your gonna love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cloe: yeah your right guys… well lets plan the party and I will get the room ready!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade: that’s more like it angel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: so I now need to know the date the day and…&lt;br /&gt;Cloe: the party?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade: I can’t wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[The very next day]&lt;br /&gt;Cloe: hey Sasha can I invite the tweevils?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: well… it’s their choice. If they want to, come bring them and I will organize a pink dress for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade: Sasha, could I invite Jackson?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: who’s Jackson?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade: well… he’s this very cute guy and he…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: he can do sports well and he has the same colour hair as you? Is it correct?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jade: h… oh I was about to say that Sasha…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yasmin: I am so in sight! I went to the airport this morning and look what I found! I found 5 tickets going to London and that’s enough for all of us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL: yeah the Bratz team rocks!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cloe: howbout the party guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasha: well… angel, you turned out so in going to London… could we cancel the party?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cloe: bbbut… well ok! I’ll do it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Part 2 is going to be done next week. sorry!]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-6406482164211417594?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/6406482164211417594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=6406482164211417594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6406482164211417594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6406482164211417594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/07/we-are-going-to-london.html' title='We are going to London'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8572134164480617167</id><published>2009-07-12T12:48:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T14:52:49.999+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fathers poem</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/Sllud3druyI/AAAAAAAAABY/9sN1QvK0W2s/s1600-h/zul100.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357434691117628194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/Sllud3druyI/AAAAAAAAABY/9sN1QvK0W2s/s320/zul100.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you come back&lt;br /&gt;I want you to pack&lt;br /&gt;Pack it all up&lt;br /&gt;Please don’t buy a pup!&lt;br /&gt;What did you eat?&lt;br /&gt;Is your handwriting neat?&lt;br /&gt;Please have a seat&lt;br /&gt;And some tea and peas&lt;br /&gt;Are you okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the caring&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the sharing&lt;br /&gt;I care&lt;br /&gt;I swear&lt;br /&gt;I love you so much&lt;br /&gt;Have a crunch a munch too&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;I miss you&lt;br /&gt;To Ayah From Nabila&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8572134164480617167?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8572134164480617167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8572134164480617167&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8572134164480617167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8572134164480617167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/07/fathers-poem.html' title='Fathers poem'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/Sllud3druyI/AAAAAAAAABY/9sN1QvK0W2s/s72-c/zul100.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-7768817934305251896</id><published>2009-03-25T20:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T20:03:43.231+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are going to Khazakstan</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We are packing, getting tickets to go to Kazakhstan. I am so happy I could nearly feel a dream. It was often right. I had a dream I am getting ready to go to Kazakhstan but unfortunately I opened my eyes I’m in bed. So when I just did this blog I felt my heart sink. I felt I really am excited! I am thinking that will it be fun in the aeroplane? Is it just like in tioman island berjaya air airplane? I am so happy! The best thing of all is journeys on airplanes. They give me great sight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when sometimes I sit at the window I could view my home and look and try to find Kuala Lumpur! We don’t know if its spring or winter, but we really hope its snow snow snow! And I wish that I could travel to Oman again. And I am not only going there but this is this is the most better and greatest! I AM GOING TO SEE MY DAD!!!!! This was shock in my tummy, I typed my blog really fast.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-7768817934305251896?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/7768817934305251896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=7768817934305251896&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7768817934305251896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7768817934305251896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-are-going-to-khazakstan.html' title='We are going to Khazakstan'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3131559536700324114</id><published>2009-03-21T10:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T10:47:39.302+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lazy Snake</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once upon a time, there lived a busy land which was named as Never Lands. The reason why Never was in the name, is that the animals never stop working or doing it. But… a really lazy snake swizzes around happily, while the busy hard working animals work. The snake was really LAZY! So one day a little rabbit found crystals. The snake was ashamed. He shouted to the rabbit, Hey you! Give the crystals to me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll should take them!! The rabbit was scared, and landed the crystals away. The lion and the tiger went to the lazy snake and the snake cried, TIGERS! LIONS! The two lion and tiger roared so loudly, everybody came running to see what happened. The lion and the tiger thanked the rabbit for asking about the snake. It was night to morning all the animals kept asking this bad things from the lazy snake and the snake got scolded day to night he can’t even sleep! So that was the story about the lazy snake and NEVER LANDS! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3131559536700324114?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3131559536700324114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3131559536700324114&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3131559536700324114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3131559536700324114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/03/lazy-snake.html' title='The Lazy Snake'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-2022390322345857019</id><published>2009-03-20T10:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T10:51:23.304+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Disappearing Carrots</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There was an orange rabbit. And it lived near a farm. The farmer’s wife cooked lots and lots of carrots. When the rabbit hears the wife says carrots for dinner! The rabbit hops to the window when the carrots wanted to cool down he took each carrot and did little soft munching, while the noisy wife tries to wake the farmer from his nap. When the wife marched to find the carrots there were no where?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said thanks for the food. Then went to he’s nap at the couch. The angry wife stormed of and went to have a cup of tea upstairs. She saw that the farmer had chocolate everyday that he became weaker. So one night he went to the wife’s little table and took her book and read it and saw why she needed a pot of gold and how the magic disappearing carrots have gone. Then the wife was about to yawn and open her eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer hide back to his couch and covered his blanket over him. He got the pencil and a piece of paper and scribbled what his mission was about. When the time has come, it was his birthday, bah! The present was an old rusty story book. He liked it but the wife didn’t. So one day, the wife cooked old rusty sweet hay. The rabbit heard he’s yummiest food .Hay! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He shouted. He went hopping to the farm where the window was and the wife hide to see what the it was. Then pop! There was a net that shoot the poor little orange rabbit. So the rabbit was eaten and they never ever had magic gone carrots again!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-2022390322345857019?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/2022390322345857019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=2022390322345857019&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2022390322345857019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/2022390322345857019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/03/disappearing-carrots.html' title='The Disappearing Carrots'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-7077221569402179335</id><published>2009-03-19T17:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T17:44:36.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poem</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The grumpy old boy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I like to run with my shoes undone in front of a rusty toad.&lt;br /&gt;I squat at him and the toad squats back,&lt;br /&gt;Go away un sensible toad!&lt;br /&gt;I went back home with my shoes undone but I am real sweat.&lt;br /&gt;I call my mum for some money and slept with a dirty net!&lt;br /&gt;I went to wake up!&lt;br /&gt;And found more money and bye bye dirty net! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guitar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad plays guitars,&lt;br /&gt;1, 2, 3,&lt;br /&gt;The guitars are:&lt;br /&gt;Big!&lt;br /&gt;The guitars are:&lt;br /&gt;Small&lt;br /&gt;They are loud and they are quiet.&lt;br /&gt;They swing sooo soft&lt;br /&gt;I always sneak and play it softly.&lt;br /&gt;Till my dads fast asleep!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-7077221569402179335?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/7077221569402179335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=7077221569402179335&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7077221569402179335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7077221569402179335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/03/poem.html' title='Poem'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-6395714823954224682</id><published>2009-03-08T15:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T15:03:52.695+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Man on the moon</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once upon a time there was a little boy who was five years old. He sent he’s dog everyday for an afternoon walk. When at one night, the little boy heard someone calling help. He went to he’s window and looked down. no one was there? But when he looked up he saw a man on a moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He when out and crept to the door and went out. He looked up again. He saw the man on the moon and woke up he’s dog and went a bit forward to talk. The little boy said I am five years old whats the matter? The man on the moon said that he was eight years old and can’t believe a young five years old boy could help. He told him the way to go up to the moon and said abra sadabra. And a giant bird fetch him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy ran to the big man and the man on the moon said he’s name was syashi. Syashi was telling that he’s home would be exploded. So he said to the boy to get the giant bird again and whould find magic crazy planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So when they got there syashi said that the boy needs to wear shoes. So he borrowed syashi’s little shoes. When he got to it they pick up a bucket and scoopd lots of dust and came back to the moon and Syashi was safe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the boy wanted to go back home syashi gave the boy one packet of dust for a huge thank you. And the boy would wish any thing he want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-6395714823954224682?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/6395714823954224682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=6395714823954224682&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6395714823954224682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/6395714823954224682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/03/man-on-moon.html' title='Man on the moon'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-367314094457909267</id><published>2009-02-21T11:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T11:10:05.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ben's Secret Book</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once there was a little boy called Ben. It was nearly he’s birthday and he was really hoping he will get a toy. After school, mum said to Ben: Ben you need to have a diary. Then Ben said to mum I don’t…….. what? Said mum. I….. ok. I will but something secret. So mum laughed! Well mister. You sure are acting us richer! then she continued laughing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then Ben got up angry. He shouted to mum: I WANT SOMETHING SECRET! Then mum stop giggling and freeze. Sometimes Ben can just rule the Family. Everyone of the family went up at him and Ben ran to he’s room and said to he’s toy train: I was mean! Then he heard someone opening and tapping the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ben banged it closed. He locked it so no one will come in. he even shut the windows closed and made a loud bang that it nearly broke. When it was he’s birthday already, he was exited! He open the present from mum and dad first then the rest. He’s eye’s were wide and shouted he had a secret book!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He open the rest and when it was done the whole party, he went to he’s room made a lock put it on he’s new book and started typing a really secret gossip. When mum called it was nearly dinner time, he quickly locked he’s secret book and went downstairs. He was with a real hurry and rush. Mum said why Ben was in quite In a real rush he said I got a really new book and…………&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum and dad said, then Ben said thank you so much! Dad said better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-367314094457909267?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/367314094457909267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=367314094457909267&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/367314094457909267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/367314094457909267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/02/bens-secret-book.html' title='Ben&apos;s Secret Book'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4764763206375669387</id><published>2009-02-09T12:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T12:51:10.552+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My dad is coming home!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SY-1dGbuF1I/AAAAAAAAABA/lxavPNlCEJs/s1600-h/nabila%2Bhakeem%2BAyah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300654797986076498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SY-1dGbuF1I/AAAAAAAAABA/lxavPNlCEJs/s320/nabila%2Bhakeem%2BAyah.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well its like been far time for my Dad to come back to Malaysia. He has a lot of work in Kasakstan but I hope he will have a great arrive! I think or not that It is he’s last journey not going or maybe he will go and tell he’s boss if he could find a job here in Malaysia. And we are really exited! But there is I little sad or problem with my self, I am going to give Snowe to my cousin for her to take care for awhile and…… forget about it! It’s more fun seeing the airport and getting my Dad back! Yuuhuu! So I have a toy bunny and I am going to bring it so I won’t forget Snowe my pet bunny. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s another sad thing stuck in my head my biggest sister which I think now she is twenty , is going to Australia and I felt sad. I had the thing that my sister is going to study there for five years! And that’s when she will look an see me huge and big like her! and at that time my little brother will be ten and I will be eleven or twelve! And about my bunny, Snowe she will be gone for one week but don’t hear that it makes me and Snowe apart forever! Well I was a bit not caring but I do! My big sister does not want to so I do all the work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4764763206375669387?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4764763206375669387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4764763206375669387&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4764763206375669387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4764763206375669387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-dad-is-coming-home.html' title='My dad is coming home!'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SY-1dGbuF1I/AAAAAAAAABA/lxavPNlCEJs/s72-c/nabila%2Bhakeem%2BAyah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4738912753436245904</id><published>2009-02-01T18:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T18:51:13.828+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Camp Rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SYV-JYytfhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/aBKqBqWsKCM/s1600-h/camprock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297779236410326546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SYV-JYytfhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/aBKqBqWsKCM/s320/camprock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So in kedah we went out I just saw a CD shop. I said to my mum if I could go and my mum said yes.  When we went in I saw high school musical, bolt and camp rock! My mum said I had to choose one. I chose camp rock cause I didn’t know the story yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I took the camp rock, my mom took high school musical 2 also! COOL! Before we wanted to pay, my mum look at me and said maybe we should buy a korea one for my biggest sister but, there was only dramas. Then we looked for hot N cold in the CDS when we got in the car it dint work but camp rock did so that’s the way rises come! I love bolt too! So… cute! Can’t forget that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4738912753436245904?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4738912753436245904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4738912753436245904&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4738912753436245904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4738912753436245904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/02/camp-rock.html' title='Camp Rock'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pkTAWbCrhGg/SYV-JYytfhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/aBKqBqWsKCM/s72-c/camprock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4293946286244873649</id><published>2009-01-31T00:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T00:10:31.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rapunzel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Long ago, there was a women who longed to have a baby of her own. She thought so much about the baby until she became ill. She saw some juicy lettuce growing in the neighbour’s garden. She loved to eat them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she sent her husband to get them. That night, he went over to steal some lettuce. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t you dare to steal from me?” shrieked the neighbour who was a witch. “I’ll let you go if you promise to give me your first child!” said the witch. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man agreed, thinking that his wife would not have any children. But a few months later, his wife birth to a baby girl. The man kept his promise. He took the baby to the witch. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby grew up to to be a beautiful girl. The witch called her her Rapunzel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The witch was jealous of her. she locked her up in a high tower. When she wanted to visit Rapunzel, she would call out, Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair. Then she climed up Rapunzel’s braided hair. One day, a handsome young prince happened. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He waited until the witch called out, Rapuzel, Rapunzel let down your hair. Rapunzel did what she was asked. The prince climed up the tower using Rapunzel’s hair. Rapunzel was surprised to see the handsome prince climbing into Rapunzel’s room. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They began to talk and know each other. Soon they fell in love. Somehow, the witch found out that she cut it up to make the prince fall. The thorns her his eyes. He was blind. Rapunzel was so sad that she thought she will never see him again but…… the prince became good again and asked Rapunzel to come to he’s palace. And they married. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4293946286244873649?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4293946286244873649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4293946286244873649&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4293946286244873649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4293946286244873649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2009/01/rapunzel.html' title='Rapunzel'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8696064295809001793</id><published>2008-12-20T13:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T12:27:52.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ghost</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When I went to bed I always dream of ghosts. I always wanted my mummy And daddy. And every midnight I saw a real ghost. And my name is Benny. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my parents, they do not trust me. So when I told my friend, Robbie, he said: that’s not true. It’s dreams flying in your head. Robbie, trust me please?! What?!! Every midnight, I see real ghosts. Benny I’m sleeping with you tonight. Why??? Cause u like to tell me stories at school everyday. I’m telling ms Gushy, you tell me stories. Fine tell rude! Yeah fine baby. Call me baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I’m telling The principal. What’s going on you 2? Said our master teacher. Umm… I told you 2 yesterday to stay in class 2 wait until I come in! because u Have important news! So tell it now!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I shouted. You 2 r great master boys! So I wondered if u 2 would like to come to a fighting contest. Ok we said But whenever u have fight’s like This, can’t you 2 fight? instead of Calling names?!! Yes master we Said together. Then when Robbie Walked away I punched he’s back And, I ran away. so Robbie came to Benny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8696064295809001793?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8696064295809001793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8696064295809001793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8696064295809001793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8696064295809001793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/12/ghost.html' title='The Ghost'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-207673386730120768</id><published>2008-12-19T12:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T12:27:12.914+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Simply Gone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I hate Jacky when he hits me with the ball. That’s why we always call him Jocky Jacky. He hates it when we say that. so he told he’s dad but, did not trust Jocky Jacky. But he’s sister, Lucy said she trusts him. Then I said the next morning, at school: I’M SIMPLY GONE. That was good no one heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So I kept walking until……. Jacky the bully stands right in front of me. I was really scared and screamed. [I was like a baby doing that] I went to the office and told the principal what happened, and why I screamed. After that I thought I was a freak. So when I walked back home, I said on the way I’m simply gone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I told my parents that I want to simply be gone. Then my mom and dad said why??! I was a bit scared when they said why very loudly. Because I hate this school, and I hate Jacky! A u sure u want to quit ABC MAZIMAL? Do u know 10 plus 10 = what mmm……….. 15? There u don’t know! Now go to school TOMORROW!!!!!!! Then I cried. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-207673386730120768?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/207673386730120768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=207673386730120768&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/207673386730120768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/207673386730120768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-simply-gone.html' title='I&apos;m Simply Gone'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3437992382380042603</id><published>2008-12-17T00:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T12:23:13.508+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My World</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This is my world. I love it so much.and its my home.thank u Allah soooooo much.and my family thank u too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I stay on it. And its sooo lovley.so I miss Ayah and Mummy when there gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my World.&lt;br /&gt;Myyyyyyyy      WORLD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love You WORLD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3437992382380042603?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3437992382380042603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3437992382380042603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3437992382380042603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3437992382380042603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-world.html' title='My World'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-7697072048127285466</id><published>2008-11-11T23:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:33:08.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>She's Always Playing Computer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One day there was a girl who likes to play computer.  Her name was Com. she never stops. One day when a girl came to ask Com to come over to play golf, Com said out very loud: NO IM BUSY! The girl’s name was shara. Then shara got to play herself, poor shara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;then a professor came to talk to Com. Then simply Com shouted: NO IM BUSY! So professor stared at her very strange. then a racing car came .  he said: want a ride? NO! SAID COM. Then Com thought that if she is, like this she might make her friends feelings sad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Com invited all her friends who met her. to come to a party. Then there were so delighted, they forgived Com for all the things she had done.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-7697072048127285466?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/7697072048127285466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=7697072048127285466&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7697072048127285466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7697072048127285466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/11/shes-always-playing-computer.html' title='She&apos;s Always Playing Computer'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4475925287433963014</id><published>2008-11-08T23:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:32:13.787+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Malay</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Saya ada kucing dalam rumah ahhhhhhh! Berhenti! Berhenti! Saya cakap. Saya Furlisa nama saya tu. Saya tahu saya boleh main mainan mainan . tapi takboleh cakap English. Saya boleh menari macam penari. Boleh u? kajap k saya nak masak nanti tidur. Selamat pagi! Nama apa u? Nabila? ya! Nama saya Nabila!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U tahu! Ya saya boleh! Selamat tengah hari ! saya masak nasi lemak!mmmmm sedap neah! Saya masak baru hari ni. U boleh masak? Tak tahu …. Kenapa! Iyyyyyyyahhh! Maaf. K kajap ada anjing dalam rrrrumahhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!iya tu kucing saya. Maafkan k. sorry. Saya nak tidur. Selamat malam!hihooooo hihooooo hihooooo![snoring].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Habisss! Saya cakap to adik saya dan abang,ayah. Saya masak kari laksa. Sedap niaaaa u masak mak. Cakap ayah dan abang. Malam saya masak pizza k adik . nabila u lapar?huh? ta ta ta. K……. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4475925287433963014?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4475925287433963014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4475925287433963014&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4475925287433963014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4475925287433963014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/11/malay.html' title='Malay'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-5955282880714667470</id><published>2008-10-26T10:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:19:04.839+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Brother Wants Jeans!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My brother: Hakeem wants a pair of jeans. He started it in the morning. But mommy chose Hakeem a 3 quarter pants. He wanted to take a shower because,my maid said :mandi mandi saya ada jean. Then Hakeem thought that was true my maid don’t know how to speak in English so often Hakeem said to mommy: can you find jeans? Then mommy said: ok I’ll find one.so after having a warm fun bath,Hakeem said to mommy again:mommy where’s the jeans?why din’t u take it out?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well mommy said that she is going to ask my maid to get it.then when he was done ,I ended up as a surprise !Hakeem was wearing jeans already!i said nothing I just stared.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-5955282880714667470?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/5955282880714667470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=5955282880714667470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/5955282880714667470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/5955282880714667470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-brother-wants-jeans.html' title='My Brother Wants Jeans!'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1207218180868724988</id><published>2008-10-25T10:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:20:24.935+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cat That Wants To Catch A Bird</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There was once a cat who longed to catch the bird that flew about the garden. But the birds knew tinker very well, and whenever he appeared, they always flew away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It didn’t matter when the cat don’t get one, he will keep saying this word: I can do it I can do it. Then when he came home he asked his mother for help, by saying: mom I need your help! Could you help me? Ok dear I’ll help. So what is the problem? I want to catch a bird but they know me very well……..how about you next time be friendly. I’ll try said Tinker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU THINK ONE DAY TINKER WILL CATCH A BIRD?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1207218180868724988?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1207218180868724988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1207218180868724988&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1207218180868724988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1207218180868724988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/cat-that-wants-to-catch-bird.html' title='The Cat That Wants To Catch A Bird'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3232659354802686815</id><published>2008-10-19T10:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:21:17.776+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Palace Under The Sea</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One day a turtle king under a palace was very old. So he knew he was going to die. The turtle queen was very sad when she heard all about it. Because she had ten children coming out of her tummy. And if she didn’t have a father she will have them forever! The turtle queen prayed and prayed to the turtle king. As you know, the turtle king already was dead. You might not know where sea creatures die, or do you? They die in north pole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody carried the king turtle to the place that sea creatures die. Nobody knows all about that. So the turtle queen got to go out hunting in the sea to find another king. 1 day a mermaid came to visit the palace. The turtle queen got very surprised when she heard all about it. She was invited to a get a new king! Now she could hardly feel it! But it was almost soon time to leave this country. So everybody said to the turtle queen: u must get marryed before we leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3232659354802686815?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3232659354802686815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3232659354802686815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3232659354802686815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3232659354802686815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/palace-under-sea.html' title='The Palace Under The Sea'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1118198835794194183</id><published>2008-10-12T00:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:21:58.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lost Teddy Bear</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Once there was a girl. And she has a teddy bear , it is her best toy, that she wont want to lost it. But when the wind came the wind blew the teddy bear away. She was sad.then mother tried to cheer up her up but no use . she kept on crying.then she saw her teddy bear flying in the sky.so she spoke too her mom to ask dad if we could borrow his super fly car to go on a trip today and see if we could catch the teddy bear.dad said yes but the most important thing is that be careful.she went in the fly-car softly and stedy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She prepared for blast – off.she said bye too her parents and baby.then she found it was just a teddy kite.she was very sad indeed.then mom said maybe we could go to the lost propety.then when she arrived, there she found her teddy.her teddy missed her she missed her .what a surprise !&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1118198835794194183?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1118198835794194183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1118198835794194183&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1118198835794194183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1118198835794194183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/lost-teddy-bear.html' title='The Lost Teddy Bear'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4643094986975828591</id><published>2008-10-05T00:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:22:49.383+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Greedy Bunny</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I want this one mommy. Could I have it . Ok . I’ll let you buy a bunny. But promise you will take good care of it. Ok. So she injoyed having her pet , then she always call’s her friends to see it. And they said: wow cool it’s cute. Then she felt happy for that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day her friend Lulu came to see Morla’s pet bunny. This time his a greedy one. Then Lulu said to Morla : why is your bunny too greedy. Lulu you made your 1st ryghme. Really. Bunny and greedy is a ryghme . wow so I am a fantastic girl . Well you helped me do some of my hard work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no! Morla! Your greedy bunny is eating the new food. Did you take a good care of it. Mummy I’m really sorry . Well I wanted to put your pet bunny in a cage, but…….mommy your right I’ll need to buy a cage. Ok, I’ll give you money to buy a cage near by. Ok,ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4643094986975828591?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4643094986975828591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4643094986975828591&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4643094986975828591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4643094986975828591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-greedy-bunny.html' title='My Greedy Bunny'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-1283369565944190427</id><published>2008-10-04T01:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:23:33.126+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hari Raya Everybody</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yay its hari raya. Its October. And yesterday we went to danny’s house, and today were going to mak yan’s house. A hari raya day is always like this. Especially Melaka, we got to go house to house. I was run out of power when I got home, then we finally now we can go on car , then when it is time to go to Kedah mommy and ayah carried us to the car in the morning. I was like awake you know, then I waked up early in the morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we stoped by to get ready, when I wore my dress Hakeem thinks I look like a fairy. Then I said say that to your GIRLFRIEND. Because……I had those white things attached to my shoulders dress, I felt silly. I didin’t really liked it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-1283369565944190427?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/1283369565944190427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=1283369565944190427&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1283369565944190427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/1283369565944190427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/hari-raya-everybody.html' title='Hari Raya Everybody'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-3386688256544807297</id><published>2008-10-04T01:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:24:30.123+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love My Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hakeem is my brother. Mommy is my mother. Ayah is my father. Kak Deea is one of my sisters. And I Nabila , I love myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 4 sisters.1 brother. And mummy with ayah . I love them a lot much. And I feel happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-3386688256544807297?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/3386688256544807297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=3386688256544807297&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3386688256544807297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/3386688256544807297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-love-my-family.html' title='I Love My Family'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-7694254453666493586</id><published>2008-10-03T23:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:25:13.304+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Flowers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;GIRL=ROSEY&lt;br /&gt;MUM=MOTHER&lt;br /&gt;DAD=FATHER&lt;br /&gt;FRIEND=MOSY&lt;br /&gt;BAD BOY=BAD BAD&lt;br /&gt;KIND BOY=KINDY&lt;br /&gt;PET RABBIT=LINDY&lt;br /&gt;OLD MAN=LOCHAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother I want flowers, I want them .but rosey we do not have money,why because we spend it to buy you toys.sorry I bought those toys,never mind that was fathers money.well do you have money no why?because I want some now.rosey please do what I say ok now please stop it.mother how dare you say that.thats not true . I really want flowers right now.or I will kill you ok so stop it do what I say say say .ok then I’ll give you a little money to buy pretty ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay mother thank you . father father could I have a little money from you pleassssse ok I’ll give you 50 and 70 and a little 60.thanks father you’re my best.of course I am, I’m your father.then her friend mosy came to say hi then she ran of to her home.then a bad boy came to still my money.i was sckared.ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I was really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a old man called lochan and a kind boy called kindy wanted to sckare the bad boy away . then she could buy some flowers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-7694254453666493586?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/7694254453666493586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=7694254453666493586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7694254453666493586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/7694254453666493586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-love-flowers.html' title='I Love Flowers'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-8130735090532050538</id><published>2008-10-03T11:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:25:56.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Wish I Could Marry A Princess</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Princess = Alyana&lt;br /&gt;Prince = Adam&lt;br /&gt;Wicked Witch = SpotWitch&lt;br /&gt;Fairygodmother = Fairy God Plump&lt;br /&gt;Witches Crow = Kwanky&lt;br /&gt;Poor Boy = Charlie&lt;br /&gt;Poor Child’s Mother = Laneey&lt;br /&gt;Friends =&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1) Sarra&lt;br /&gt;2) Lorna&lt;br /&gt;3) Lindsay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, there was a kingdom called Aliyanto. And a baby Prince called Adam. After a few years, Prince Adam grew up in two a handsome Prince.and a Princess called Alyana.both of them wanted to get marryed but the Queen and King said go and seek Fairy God Plump. Sp they went to seek Fairy God Plump. SpotWitch, who is jealous of Princess Alyana’s beauty, turned intp Fairy God Plump and said NO to Prince Adam and Princess Alyana. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then they grew bigger then they were brave enoghf .so they gone to seek Fairy God Plump.when they went to the woods,it was dark and spooky,that alyana hugged adam.then they saw a poor boy and a lady,they were tied up with a rope.alyana thought for a minute.????? Then she asked adam could we help those people over there.then adam said ok , but wait,I spy spotwich.hide quick the witch is coming.so they both hided behind the wood bushes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then they knew why the witch wanted to find fairy god plump .so the witch tied the rich people, to mothers name is lannee and my name is Charlie.motionless the money from them.now its time for me to get your money,so you’l be poor.HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I’m going to do this to all the rich people ,so they will be poor.you a now called poor people then some friends came to help,the 1st one is sarra 2nd lorna 3rd Lindsay. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then they killed the witch and un tie the poor poeple.then adam said is the lady your mother? Yes.whats your name?m and at last they could get marryed.but oh no another witch with a crow called kwanky is making other people poor . could you help them? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-8130735090532050538?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/8130735090532050538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=8130735090532050538&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8130735090532050538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/8130735090532050538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-wish-i-could-marry-princess.html' title='I Wish I Could Marry A Princess'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179470445785660538.post-4487287949092832041</id><published>2008-10-02T10:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T23:26:38.451+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going To The Funfair</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yes mother I’m coming. A we going to the funfair. Oh sweetie. One day we’ll go there.ok . I promise. I hope so we will mother.and she was waiting.and still .not yet. She was sad.Than she told daddy and he said the same thing. She was sad. She is veryyyyyyyyyyyyyy sad.the next morning she went to school.it was Monday.and it was her best day ever.she will be learning the Funfair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Her best place.bye mother I will tell you what I learnd.and the bus shooted off.indeed everybody had there photos when they were at the Funfair.she had one to.so she was happy.when she was done.she told mommy and daddy everything.they were proud of her.than she took a bath.then she went to bed.she dreamd of some Funfair time.in the in the morning there was no school,because it was holiday.she really missed school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Than played boring boy games that she’s brother liked.the next day it was the 1st longest holiday ever.it was 60 weeks .then mother called downstairs;tomorrow night sister is going to the Funfair, ok brother.you will stay at home.ok mum.normaly most boys call there mother mum.sister was SHOCKT to hear what mother had said.then she jumped up and down.then she answard back why. And mother said back because your teacher sended a note at the mail box.and she said ,to parents please let your child go to the Funfair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;because were going to see who has the most spotted things .thank you.ms dift.do you want to come yes or no?YES she said.this is my 1st time then she ran in circirles.and jumped up and down.she was annoying her brother.then her brother shouted veryyyyyy loud,STOP then everybody in his house did what he said.then he was fine-ok.everybody was angry in his house.because everybody was busy-working. Sister was eating, daddy was cooking,mother was getting reddy to go shopping,but brother was LAZY.most of the time his like that.so now his called Lazy guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;at school his friends call him lazy.but his teacher seem to not like it at all.when it was time to go to the Funfair sister was exited.she spotted 100 things.she was good at this.time ran out.it was school day alreddy.and everybody had less then 100.she was a happy girl.then she won a prize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/179470445785660538-4487287949092832041?l=voguenabila.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/feeds/4487287949092832041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=179470445785660538&amp;postID=4487287949092832041&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4487287949092832041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/179470445785660538/posts/default/4487287949092832041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voguenabila.blogspot.com/2008/10/going-to-funfair.html' title='Going To The Funfair'/><author><name>Nur Nabila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04459946850805811068</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
