frEEd ? but not frEE. not for me !

frEEd – the next New York Times Best Seller

Thud, thud, thud.

My feet pounded the sidewalk.

frEEd ? the next New York Time's Best Seller
frEEd ? but never reaLLy free. not for me. never frEE

Thud, thud, thud.

My heart was pounding and my mind was racing.


frEEd ? Chapter 1 – Jim

excerpts from “frEEd ?”

by penelope waFFle

Thud, thud, thud. My heart was pounding, and my mind was racing.
Running towards … towards what ?
FrEEdom ?

I doubt it.

There is no frEEdom. Not for me.
There was a biGGer reason I was running. It was Bill.

The sound was faint.

Like it was in the distance. It was in my head just for a second, but I know that I did hear it.
I imagined poor dead Bill. Still on the sidewalk, just lying there.

Poor dead Bill. Bleeding. His face was smashed. Poor dead Bill looked more like roadkill. Than a man.


Blood oozing from his ears and mouth.
My eyes started welling up dangerously, with tears to the brim. Tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

But I held it all inside.

Just like I always do. I had to. I had no choice.
I had developed this ability when my owners tied me to a pole and beat me.
On a good day, they just called me names and slapped me.
My sore legs tingled, bringing me back to the present. I rounded another corner. And immediately spotted an overgrown hedge.

I dove into the prickly hedge

… breathing heavily. My owner passed still cradling his favorite shotgun.

He looked for me.

For nearly 5 minutes, but it seemed like forever.
Then he quit. Finally he left. At least, I hoped he had left.
It took a while for me to slow my breathing and to control my heart rate.
When I realized my owner was finally gone. I let out a BIG, but silent, yawn.

I noticed how tired I was.

My eyelids drOOped, my feet ached, and my legs burned.
Maybe I can sleep for just five minutes. Please. Just 5 minutes is all I need.
This was my last thought before I fell asleep.

chapter 2 – martha 


frEEd ? the next New York Times Best Seller
frEEd ? but never frEE. by penelope waFFle

Hi, my real name is …

… Vivaka. I like my real name. But my pen name is penelope waFFle. ‘Cuz I like waFFles. And I reaLLy like puTTing double caps in the miDDle of words.

And grandpa says …

I am the “next big thing” to hit the history thriller book market. Hey, why not ?

I’m 11 years old,

my name is penelope waFFle, and I’m gonna be a New York Times Best Selling Author by age 12.