Hi! Can't wait to read it! Don't worry, nobody will copy you! I am editing my rules in the beginning and making that a rule, Thanks!

Can't wait!
Sorry I didn't reply. I have written a few stories, but none as good as this one right here.
To Anyone interested in copying this: beware! I will catch you if I think you have plagiarized my story, and you won't like the consequences.
The Curse of The Pin
By Hannah Wallace
Chapter One: Creepy New Home
Jack sat, depressed, in the backseat of the Land Rover. He was moving away from his friends, and everything he knew, back in Oklahoma, and moving into a house in Deetenville, Kansas. He looked at the landscape: prairie, prairie, more prairie. Was there anything aside from prairie in this cursed state?!
“Here we are!” his mother, Martha Miller, cheerfully called. “Yay...” Jack said, in a very unexcited voice. His mother turned around in her seat, and her brown dark brown bangs drooped over her freckled, tan skinned face. “Hey, Mr.” she said, addressing Jack. “I know you're upset about moving away from your friends, and leaving everything you know, but this is gonna be fun. Think of it as an adventure.” she said, offering sympathy through an understanding smile.
She squeezed Jack's shoulder and said, “Now remember: no smiling.” Jack grinned. This never failed to make him smile. “No! No smiling!” his mother said, a broad smile of her own on her face. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Now, let's get our bags and get settled!” she said cheerfully.
Jack decided to try to be cheery, and he put a smile on his face. Then he got out of the car and walked around to the rear of the car, where his parents had the trunk open. He grabbed his suitcase, which was covered in his graffiti, and began lugging it to the house. The house didn't look like the most homey place: it would have been white, but years of rain, sun, and dirty water splashing onto it from the muddy ground below made it look quite grimy.
Aside from the filth, huge vines grew in tangled knots all over the house, giving it a spooky, abandoned look.
Jack began imagining the plot for a creepy murder story, with the house as the main setting. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear his father, Allen Miller, coming up behind him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and jumped, whirling around like a top.
“Hey, take it easy, champ!” his father said, surprised by Jack's reaction. “Sorry, Dad,” Jack mumbled. “I was just thinking, and you startled me.”
“Kind of creepy, isn't it?” Allen said, gesturing to the house. Jack shrugged. “Not really,” he said, not wanting to look like a little kid. Allen looked at Jack with a curious face, then shook his head and continued walking to the house. He walked up to the door, and jiggled the handle. It stayed firmly in place. “Well, good to know the house is, at least, sturdy.” he said, jokingly.
Jack grinned. “Good to know.” he said. Allen pulled the key to the house from his pocket and unlocked the door. It opened with an eery creak, and Allen and Jack peered inside. Jack had half expected to see cobwebs, dust bunnies, and bats in the old home, but he was surprised by the pristine condition the house was in: the golden wood floor was polished, and well swept, and had a beautiful, glossy sheen. The mantel above the fireplace was dusted, and the cobwebs that might have been sitting in the corners of the windows weren't there.
“Well, it's a nice place...” Jack said, stepping inside. Allen walked back down the path that led to the porch. “Martha!” he yelled to his wife, “You're gonna love the place: it's really nice!” Martha was struggling with some suitcases and bags. Allen ran up and grabbed two suitcases, leaving his wife with one suitcase and a bag of assorted junk.
Jack curiously explored the house. He opened every single door, and looked in every single room. The house was really quite nice, Much nicer than the small, three-room house that had served as the Miller's first house. Jack heard the creaky door open and knew his parents were coming in. “Mom! Dad!” he yelled, running to them, his sneaker-clad feet slamming down on the polished wood floor, making a loud, stomping sound. “The place is amazing!” he said, beaming. “It has a living room, a kitchen, a dining room, and four bedrooms! Oh, and it has two bathrooms!”
His mom reached down and fondled his hair. “See? I told you you'd like it if you'd just give it a chance.” she said. “Tell you what, son,” Allen said, “Why don't you go pick out which room you want?” Jack grinned. “Really?” he gasped. “Thanks, Dad!” he said, hugging Allen. Then he loped off down the hallway to pick out his room.
“Do you think he'll make any friends?” Martha said to Allen, as the two began to open the suitcases. “I don't know.” Allen said. “I hope the excitement doesn't wear off, where he'd rather be back home.” “Yeah.” Martha said. Suddenly, a loud honk from outside let the family know that the moving van, containing their furniture and more luggage, had arrived.
“Ugh! More work...” Martha groaned. “I feel you on that one!” Allen laughed. “C'mon, let's go. The sooner we get done, the better!” Allen and Martha walked out and closed the creaky door behind them.
Jack had found the room he wanted: it was a medium sized room, with a closet on the far right wall, and a large window with a red velvet window seat. He began picking the place for his bed, his desk, and for his guinea pig, Daisy's, cage. “Daisy!” he yelled, suddenly. He ran down the hall, through the living room, and out the door, back to the car. He had left Daisy in her little cage in the car. “Sorry, girl.” he said, apologetically. “I certainly won't to that again!”
He picked Daisy's cage up and walked back to the house. His parents were still moving the furniture in. Jack walked back to his room, put Daisy's cage down, and went back outside to help his parents move the furniture and luggage.