Young Author: Sophie Huang
Hi, I’m Sophie Huang and I am 11 years (April 2019) old. I enjoy reading but when I am not, I like to play the piano (I am in grade 8 ABRSM level). I love to paint, draw and sketch. I’ve designed T-shirts and dresses (for fun). I like sports, such as football, running, netball, basketball, swimming, aquathlon
I also like to go out and help charities that are trying to make a difference in our world. I’ve been to impact HK that helps homeless people, HK dog rescue, Sai Kung stray friends and LAP that helps stray dogs. We made donations to help some charities. Another thing I really like is baking and cooking, so I might make breakfasts for my parents and
I always liked to write and why not writing a novella! So, in January 2019, I started a strange but exciting journey. Creating, making and putting “alive” characters in an amazing adventure was by far what I imagined at first. However, this was how « The Holy Blood » became a dream come true. With more than 27,000 words, this story took several months to write. It was hard to build the characters and the world where they were put. However, I am proud of the result.
Note from YB. After spending several weekends away due to holidays, including summer 2019, Sophie moved to another city in August and went to a new school, becoming extremely busy. It is useless to say these events made some difficulties to finish her story. However, we can say her novella is now
Novella: The Holy Blood
Words: 27,360 words
Date of publication: October 2019
Production time: Approx +45 Hrs
“The Holy Blood” is made of challenges involving the mystery of life and death. Should we die? What if there was a secret to become immortal? Without knowing what they were about to discover, the three heroes dived in an investigation in which they risked their lives.
« The Holy Blood » is far to be like a fairytale. « It is not too late, but I’m warning you. This book contains serious
The attic was very dark. I couldn’t see my own fingers. It was scary. I hesitated before taking a step.
“I’ll get you soon, mouse!” I said angrily.
I had to manage this little mess. I bent over the letters, old letters, yellowish, with old stamps I have never seen. My curiosity was suddenly aroused. I always have been fanatic about
“20 January 1943… 10 December 1941… Thursday 20 August 1942…”
The people who sent grandpa these letters were probably involved in World War II. All the letters were addressed to my grandfather. I carefully took the other letters stayed in the box. Most of the words, addresses, writing, were fading away. I sat on a box and read each and every letter that was still readable. I don’t know how much time passed. Stories and memories from what I thought, World War II, were horrible. All these guys suffered much more I may in a hundred years. I was able to feel their pain, sadness, terrible journey. After two hours, I took the last letter. It wasn’t open.
“How come? Why? Should I open it?” I murmured.
I was suddenly attracted to this mysterious letter. I had the strange feeling to dig into someone’s private life. I opened it carefully. The letter was strangely written. The sentences made sense, but they were not linked to each other, separated. ‘It is a poem… It’s really good! But… Why write such a poem in
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