Affiliate Marketing Secrets

This isn’t the beginning. i was just seeing if it was okay.
“David, we need to go NOW!” She exclaimed, and pulled me up. In the air a large aeris-copter was slowly descending to the ground. The sharp blades threatened to sliced us into bacon bits.I grasped my dagger and followed her back into the forest.
We didn’t make it far before Amber collapsed, unconscious.Blood was now slowly falling from her leg. I could still feel the wind on my back as I lifted her into the air. She wouldn’t make it if we didn’t speed our pace.My muscles tensed as I took on her full weight. Quickly I began to run. Branches and leaves were slapping in my face. Heavy sweat poured down my face as I gradually got slower. Amber slowly got heavier. I was as blind as a mouse when I half ran half fell out of the forest.
I was home. More importantly I was alive.
They called it Summermount. The name was given because the sun shone for most of the day. It was always warm here. Winter was just another useless word without any importance. I loved it here. After all it was my one and only home. The market, homes, and port made it one of the business cities around. I knew the place like the back of my hand for occasions just like this.
I threw our weapons into a bush and walked slowly into the city. If I was caught by an Overseer it was probably worth 20 lashes or worse. We weren’t supposed to hunt. It was against everything they stood for. There goal was to crush ever ambition. Ever dream we ever had and replace it with their poisonous vision.
It wasn’t easy getting Amber in. I had to slip around buildings and duck in to alleyways. Once I even had to throw her into a stack of hay. I turned the corner where Amber’s parents small restaurant was. I ducked into the doorway and ran into her mother who was serving a drink to some patrons.
“Hello Mrs Quartz.” I whispered.
“Good morning David dear,” she said,occupied serving the honey mead. “ I have some food around back.” I muttered my thanks. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her about Amber’s injury. Last time she was hurt from a simple thorn her mother smashed a hot skillet into my face. This time I expected worse. I wasn’t going to risk that so I quickly went through the kitchen,snatched some soup, and jogged up to their apartment.
Everything in their home had an exact place. It was like the library at school but bigger in different places. Firstly it was circular. Everything was based in their small little main room. Doors lead into closets and bedrooms. Everything had a theme. White curtains to block sunlight from the small window with red rugs and couches to make it look more elegant. A walk in room had an office where Mr. Quartz was scribbling away. I could sleep in and out unnoticed with my soft leather shoes.
Silent as a mouse I slipped into Amber’s room and layed her down on her purple bed. I locked her door, ignoring all of the posters of teenage heartthrobs then tucked under her sheets. Her peaceful face stirred as I made her sip the rest of my water. I slung by pack over my shoulder and pushed open her window to climb on a small balcony.
“Goodbye.” I muttered and climbed away.
After I carefully climbed from the building I walked slowly toward the sea. Citizens pushed past as the yellow sun set. Soon the curfew would begin and wanderers would be shot on sight. As I was pushing against the crowd I felt a hand brush against my pocket. A thief! Instinct took over as I grabbed the robber by his hand. He pushed me into an alley and took out a polished iron dagger.The razor-sharp blade was barely on my skin yet small droplets of thick red blood dripped down into the dirt.
“What do you want?” I managed to croak. The man’s sweat covered matted hair smelled like mud and blood. His beard made him look wiser.
“ I want to warn you,” he answered. “Stay secret stay safe.”
Before I could ask him what was going on he slipped a brown package in my pocket and charged into the dense swarm. I jumped into the crowd.
I know its not the best I have to finish it and edit. I need to know some skills I need to work on.

He thought Trayvon Martin was going to break in to someone’s home or was going to sell organs on the black market or going to give United States secrets to the Iranians. Or something. Point is, Zimmerman went with his gut, and that is what real Americans do. FACT.

Currently, I am a freshman at the University of Missouri majoring in Journalism. That’s what I want to do, journalism, no question about it. I am primarily interested in sports, and I am a really hard worker and will do whatever it takes to make it in the business.
I am considering transferring to the University of Texas at Austin because one, it is closer to home, and two, I am just not having fun at Mizzou. However, I have a very good GPA at Mizzou (3.94), I have made some friends (not many – but some), I have made great connections (I work with the student radio station and the local NBC-affiliate TV station called KOMU), and I am basically settled in. The only problem is, really, is that I miss home and I am not enjoying it as much as I thought I would.
I always wanted to go to Texas growing up, and I know it provides an excellent education in journalism. I also realize that Mizzou does as well.
In journalism, I know it is all about connections. UT seems to have a lot of connections there (the Dean of Communications told me about how they have ESPN, TV stations, Radio stations, etc.). Mizzou does too, though. However, I don’t know which will be better for my future. I also have to take into consideration that leaving Mizzou will be starting all over again and I would be taking a risk at making new connections in a new location when I already have some at Mizzou.
I really just need some advice on what direction to take. Should I go to Mizzou or should I go to Texas? If you can’t answer that, can you please give me advice on this whole situation? Thank you all!

I’m trying to write a book. I’m very interested with the Renaissance period. Please only people in the Italian Renaissance. I’m basing my story in Italy.
Last time I asked this question, people gave me events/people like Christopher Colombus and stuff.
I might be doing William Shakespear but I’m pretty sure he lived in England.
I HAVE played Assassin’s Creed 2 before. That is a wonderful game. I literaly love that game with all my heart. As you can tell, Assassin’s Creed 2 has inspired me. Plus, even before I knew about Assassin’s Creed, I have LOVED Italy.
You can list People and Events. If you can, can you tell me what happened. Just a quick summary. Sorry, I’m only 12. I do actually write well, I guess.
Here’s a quick story I wrote a long time ago, and then I trashed it.
CHAPTER ONE
VENICE, ITALY 1463
The moon glistened in the sky like silver treasure and the wind rustled through the trees. It was so beautiful at night. Sounds of crickets filled the air. Thieves worked outside constructing ashlars onto corrupted buildings for their punishment before their execution.
I could hear a few archers arguing on the roof above me. I had to stay quiet to remain inosservato.
I hated the new process. The Pope demanded safety to Venice for a secret reason. Archers were these guards with bow and arrows. Whoever climbed the rooftops were going to get shot. It was mostly for thieves or pickpockets that tried to flee.
Something from the sky fell on the ground. I was startled and cursed under my breath. It was very un-lady like to do such a thing.
“Che cosa è questo?” I whispered. I couldn’t take any chances of being caught by the archers.
I bent over to examine what had fallen from the sky. It was too dim outside to see anything in a far distance. Maybe it was hurt pigeon. My hands felt the object in every inch. It was made of rough leather with a few metal designs on it. I knew what it was strait away. It was a bracer; one of the archers must have dropped it.
Who was foolish enough to drop armor like this?
“Chell, my darling come back to the house before the guards capture you.” My mother whispered holding a crimson candle in her hand. I looked at the bracer and then back at her. She grabbed me by the arm and ran back to our home. My legs were weak and tired and I couldn’t go any further. I was out of breath. I stood there like a fool choking for air.
“Basta. We must go back home now.” My mother yelled. She ran ahead of me. Her body disappeared in the dark. I could still see the flame of the candle, though. I had no choice but to run after her. If a guard sees me outside this late with a stolen item, I must pray for my safety.
I managed to get my legs to start running again. I would be able to run faster if I weren’t bare footed and had a gown on. The flame bounced side to side. I laughed because I thought of how funny my mother was running.
The pebbles and hay on the ground irritated my feet, but I still kept going. My mother pushed the door open and yanked me inside.
She set the candle back on the herce. I stood there silent with the bracer still in my hands. “Where did you get this? Chell, do you know how much trouble you can get in? Do you want to be like the thieves outside sweeping the streets?” she asked peaking through the window.
In Venice, if you are ever caught stealing you can be put to a death sentence. My father, he was executed for stealing a sack of apples at the market. The guards cornered him on a boat and killed him on the spot. I was only six when this had happened. That was eleven years ago. My mother and I have been very cautious about taking stuff that was not ours. We often paid for everything. We never argued when the people demanded more money for such “fine” vegetables, fruits, and clothing.
My mother had always told me to not steal anything from anybody. We were wealthy enough to buy anything we want. That made me question the reason why father had stolen the sack of apples.
Imagine if you TOOK a guard’s or an archer’s armor. Small armor cost about 1800 Florins. They will assume you stole the armor for money and you will be put for a death sentence. Even if you try to explain that you did not know, you will be accused of finding lost property and not returning it to the church.
Once the Archer finds out his bracer isn’t there anymore, he will know somebody had stolen it. Luckily, I was in the community courtyard. It was a good distance away from my home. The archer will suspect people who live close by.

It was a story about a man who arrived in a kingdom where everyone that work in the street, in the market and even in their houses were all male because all the women, young and old, were in the castle where a Queen and her daughter lives. The women went home only every Sunday to see their family.
The man will meet the King who lives in a quite big house outside the palace.
The set up of the kingdom puzzled the man so he tried to investigate. Then he found a woman that make him fall in love.
Still curious about what’s happening in the kingdom, he found out about the king’s secret mission to turn everything back to normal.
Okay, I don’t want to spoil the whole story. Let me know if you got something from the short information I wrote.
It’s a fictional love story involving the man, the woman whom the man fall in love and the (cursed) princess.

I’m writing about a London girl moving to the Philippines, trying to solve the mysteries of her family’s past in the country. I’m an amateur Filipino writer, and I stayed in England for quite some time, so you can trust me on this one! I just need opinions, perhaps constructive criticism, but not mean remarks. If you didn’t like it, just say it simply. Don’t add harsh words. Some Tagalog words are translated in the story as well, so no worries! As for the title, I don’t have something in mind yet 🙂
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Untitled
Chapter One: Kaylan
She didn’t know how long she had been sleeping, but when she opened her eyes, everything was clear. A brilliant shade of blue patched with fluffy white clouds in the sky and a line of emerald green trees met her eyes, as the warm summer sun kissed her skin through the untainted car window.
She glanced at her watch, and it said 8:42 – probably 12 midnight or so back home. No, wait. This place with this fine sky, endless row of tranquil trees, and hot weather is also her home. It just makes sense, because her father was born in this country, and it was also here where he grew up and found the love of his life, her mother, whom he barely talks about after the tragic accident that befell their family when she was just a baby.
There was very little she knew about her mother. It was not her favourite colour, or her favourite book. It was not even how she looked. She never saw a single picture of her. It was her handwriting.
Before she left, she stumbled upon a mildew-spotted parcel in the basement. She had never seen it before, and out of curiosity, she undid the dusty ribbon that fastened it, and lifted its lid. Inside were a few letters, old and crisp, carefully folded, and another one inside was a necklace with a framed preserved white aster for a pendant.
She didn’t show her find to anybody. She didn’t want anybody to know that a piece of her life has come into light. Nobody spoke of her mum, or at least, not around her. It was like a long-buried secret, who her mother was. Her name was never uttered. Pictures were never shown. She didn’t even know if her mother was still alive. All she had were a few letters and a necklace. Are they even enough to get to know her? She felt like a lost child once again, constantly longing for her mum.
The taxi turned to a sharp curve, and little by little, the line of trees was gone as houses and local businesses came into view. They stop for a while to pay the toll fee, and accelerated again, though more slowly this time, getting caught in a Saturday morning traffic jam.
Her heart leapt when a woman in rags with a half-clothed baby sleeping in a blanket slung on her shoulder tapped on her window, asking for some change. Her hand motioned to her pockets to fish a few coins, but before she was able to reach out to the beggars, the driver shooed them away. She felt sorry for them. Then, just in time, the red light turned green, and with a left turn, they escaped the congested national road.
They drove past a market, rice fields, and a public school; empty and lonely due to the much-awaited summer break. Children living in tin houses by the road ran carefree, worn out slippers slightly protecting their tiny feet from the hot rocky ground. Mothers were nearby, tending to their daughters’ hair. She suddenly felt jealous of them, and started to wonder what it felt like to have her hair brushed by her own mum.
Shaking the thoughts out of her head, the driver makes a turn once more, entering a subdivision. The houses around were far different from the place she grew up in, they were rather small and pretty tight, but they all looked home-y, compared to her house which seemed more like a whole town itself than a home.
The taxi came to a stop before a bungalow with well-tended flower beds; a flush of periwinkle, grew by the steps that led to the gate, orange cosmos ringed the blue mailbox, and a bush of tiny red flowers lined with the fence.
‘We’re here, ma’am.’ the taxi driver declared.
‘You sure?’
‘Yes, ma’am, 7 Sampaguita street.’
‘OK,’
The driver stepped out of the car, and unloaded her luggage from the trunk. She stepped out as well, and paid the driver, adding a few quid for the tip.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Thank you too, ma’am,’ he tipped his cap, got back into the car, and left.
She took the steps to the gate, and with a deep breath, she gave the tiny bell a ring and waited.
‘Sandali lang!’ Just a moment, a familiar voice from inside said.
Before long she heard the shuffling of slippers, and the front door opening.