So I guess...

This blog is pretty boring right now! LOL
I've been meaning to type some of my story up on here, but I've been super busy with birthday parties, sick husband, work and now sickness myself.

I've typed up a little of my story... It's not much. I actually have a much longer draft on my laptop, but being sick I've too tired to be bothered getting it.
I would appreciate helpful comments.

1. DESTINY

The pathway, worn smooth over the centuries by the feet of the villagers, seemed to wind endlessly though the trees. The enchanted rocks which formed the pathway, glistened in the sunlight by day but now glowed brightly as the moon beams reached through the canopy of leaves overhead.
This was the beginning.
At least that was what all the adults had told her.
This journey was a rite of passage that must be made by all eventually.
For as long as she could remember, She had been told that this day would come.
Every girl and boy, when they reached the age of 16, needed to complete their own jouney to receive their name and be declared an adult.
Without a true name, one could not know their purpose, their destiny. And without the status of an adult one would not be allowed to fulfil that destiny. It was the way of her people. The way it had been for centuries, and the way it would be in the future.
The village elders stopped all who tried to guess their purpose, all who attempted to master any one task in particular before receiving their true name. They did not want anyone to follow the wrong path and cause any disruption to the balance of the world. Everyone must take their place in society.
The girl had heard the stories, the legends of the ancestors.
Stories of a time when parents gave their children names at birth.
A most disturbing time when children lived up to their birth names rather than their true name with disastrous consequences. One such legend was Hearthalt. Named so because her parents thought her so beautiful that they believed she would make all men stop to wonder at her beauty. They never dreamed that she would live up to her name literally. Their unfortunate mistake led to their exceedingly beautiful daughter into the ways of a seductress. Her first two victims once she reached adulthood were middle aged men. They thought themselves lucky that she would even consider an affair with them. They went to their graves still counting their lucky stars. Their hearts gave way amidst their throes of passion and at first the people believed that they were victims of a disease of the heart, not a young woman. Each man following, whether young or old met with the same demise. Fear gripped the villagers. What could the do about an unseen murderer? The women feared to let their husbands out of sight for the murderer seemed to only target them. Hearthalt had complete control over the men. They stopped their work whenever she drew near and now she could decide which of them died and when. She found the experience particularly exhilarating. At least that is what Inquisitor told all the people after he had investigated the string of strange murders and condemned her to death. Most of the people soon after decided that is was too dangerous to name their children before their destinies were revealed that they stopped the practise. Relying on completely harmless pet names and “daughter”, “son” or “child” to suffice for the first 16 years of their children’s lives.
Rosy, nicknamed for the colour her face would turn when any amount of attention was forced upon her, was apprehensive about her journey. Placing one foot in front of the other was proving difficult and she had barely made it a few dozen yards into the grove. No one, not even her mother, would tell her what to expect on this pivotal journey. All she was told was that everyone’s journey was different. After she had finished they would share what they wanted with one another, but not before. Her mother said she would know her name when the time came. Talk about vague!
Rosy dared to hope that she would be given the destiny of a weaver like her mother, Brightweave.
Brightweave certainly fulfilled her destiny. The dyes she coloured the wool and cotton for weaving were the brightest anyone had seen in decades, that combined with the intricate designs she managed to weave into the cloth she created made hers the most sought after among the Seekers by Bluesky Plains dwellers and traders alike. The sheepherders whom she gathered her wool from gave it willingly in exchange for a new set of clothes or a blanket each season.
Rosy truly enjoyed the times she was allowed to help her mother. Rare times indeed when the village elders were constantly on the lookout for children who spent too much time at, or seemed to enjoy a particular task. Whenever that happened the child was quickly moved onto another task. They said it was to stop the children from following a destiny that was not theirs. Rosy sometimes wondered if that was just a excuse to make life seem dull and boring enough that when you were given a purpose you would cling to it because it was something they couldn’t take you away from.