The Shadowy Past
Gabriella Watson suffers excruciating nightmares and countless heart breaks as she struggles to live down her embarrassing suicide attempt. When things don't shape up for her, despite Travis's help, she realizes that the depression isn't just ordinary, and it starts to grow worse. What is the meaning of a glass that sits in the middle of a white room? The water is murky and dull. Sometimes crystal clear. But only when one decision from another goes completely right, or completely awry.
The water was just how I picture it. Murky, unclear, and dull. Figuratively speaking; the glass is half empty. The sorority house was tangled mess of blood-thirsty, flesh-eating, beastly excuses for girls with over priced makeup and stuffed bras. Life on the streets weren't much better. Snarling zombies and smoky smelling outsiders littered the crusty alleys in that belonging way. Revolting road kill shuffled to the side in a quick sweep to clean the streets was the meal of the day there. The sweet smell of homemade bread floats through the opened windows of the tutor home. Making its outward appearance innocent and alluring. What they don't tell you about is the shrieking brat that spill juice and draw on walls inside. A mother's deep, dark secret. Blatant violet walls line the shores in their natural, rough way. Moist, sulfurous air was sucked deep into the respiratory the longer you sleep on the pocked floors of the wide cavern. Nothing desirable.
So where was I to go? Where do I belong? For years I had been alone, with nowhere to go, nothing to do. No one was interested in me, my family gone. So now I sit, staring off at the majestic ocean in front of me. The glass next to me vibrates from my unwilling choice to desire good or evil. I must choose now. But what should I choose? Will I soar to the end and await my fate like they wish me to do? Or will I choose rebellion, and fight for my life so I can find my true home?
What I realize now is only just the beginning. The dusty water in the glass next to me starts to seem vehement and excited. The dust swirls, creating twists inside. Suddenly the water clears and I stare at the crystal like smoothness. My mind is decided.
I take my clothes off and fix my infrared bikini top as I stare out at the ocean once more. The pier was far enough in that I still have to fight the currents to keep my life; the life I want to end so badly. So, as if all the depression in the world is weighing me down, I step off and close my eyes. The woosh of the wind is comforting to my ears, the only thing I can really hear, except for the excitement coming from my scream.
I feel a slap of tingly cold goodness against my left leg as I plunge deep. The water caresses me like a silky blanket as I let my breath out and sink further in. I see blackness around me; my lungs start to burn for that needs to taste air. Most of what I feel isn't the lapping, twirling, or twisting of the waves, but the cold numbness as my emotional pain started to ebb. I don't know which way is up. I don't know which way is down. All I know is that I'm dancing in water, my feet no longer needing the earth to support me. As I dance, I think back to happier times, but the only happier times I ever knew.
The calliope music jingled around me as my best friend and I skipped about, watching the back-bending majesty of the twirling acrobats in red. I knew in that instant, that I wanted to be just like them when I'm older. Christie offered me a chunk of cotton candy as we giggled and skipped our way to the house of mirrors. Each mirror had its own perspective of how we looked. Christie had a big head at times or fat legs. I would be as skinny as a stick, or look like a pear. We laughed and skipped our way through the house, straight to the end. When it was over, we both complained and ran to the start of the house again. Over and over we ran through the funhouse of wonder, our own minds cranking and imagining. It was the last time I ever saw Christie, right before maddening nightmares caused her to take her life.
I smile to myself as I continue to float. My emotions feel high and dazed as I open my eyes to murky goodness. I was on my way to freedom. I was on my way to Christie. I feel a firmness press against my back and suddenly I am being dragged upwards, towards sudden light. The edges around my vision blur, and the blue-gray ocean fades to white as I finally take my turn to see heaven.
Stars Don't Fall (Complete-ish)
A man named Syrusses decides that he wants to end world starvation, government issues, and social status ladders in hopes to create a bigger, better world where everyone can be equal. The cost, however, is a little more than just. The loss of billions of lives are at stake, and only Syrusses's brother, Cyran can stop him from getting a powerful sword that will allow him to create this world. Syrusses's goal has become so completely obsessive, that he grows too powerful to control his psychotic rampage. He believes heavily in what he is doing, and no one can stop him now. Cyran and a couple of ruffians have decided to put a stop to this, before it is too late.
His knees were shaking violently and his breath was coming out in hot puffs. He tried to look away from his friend's dead body, crumpled in a heap against the cave wall. He held up his sword and pointed it straight at his enemy's neck. In that instant, Cyran wanted nothing more than to brutally sever Syrusses's head from the rest of his body. He wanted this villain to fall dead and never wake again. His brother would never speak another word, would never see daylight again. He'd forever be trapped in the dark, gloomy cave with nothing but the silver artifact giving off its last bit of light. Syrusses had gotten this far, but he was going to put a stop to this cruel adventure. He had a plan, ever since he heard about her suffering.
Ever since he found out about the house and about her family, he had always had a plan. His plan seemed small when he heard about Syrusses's want to destroy Wvern, but nevertheless, he still had a plan. Cyran wasn't afraid to tell Syrusses how he felt now. He wanted him to know about all the pain Syrusses had put Cyran through. About how all those childhood memories were clouded with a veil of darkness that repelled Cyran from even looking back.
Syrusses knew what he was thinking about, and his black eyes flashed malevolently. He swept his black cloak aside and took a step towards Cyran, slowly pushing the extended sword away from his neck. His gait was long and purposeful, he was obviously very confident in his survival. "I put you through that pain so that you would learn something," His voice was a hiss, echoing through the empty caverns. "And what you have learned disappoints me. You are convinced that you should hate your big brother more, even though he is creating a newer, better world for his family to live in."
Cyran's top teeth dug deep into his bottom lip to keep a sarcastic remark from exiting his mouth. For whatever reason, he knew this was not a good time to be a smart ass. He knew that if he let something slip out, Syrusses's patience will be gone, and he will be a pile of dust. Oh how badly he wanted to verbally insult this man in front of him. The man had everything work for him, so why shouldn't he get what he wants at the very end? Cyran took a slow step backwards.
"I will get it, just as I had gotten every book and every soldier to finish the job; just as I had killed anyone who stood in my way. I destroyed obstacles in my path, and after I had tried and tried again, I finally recovered my prize." He extended his hand towards the cave entrance and smiled at the woman who stepped inside. She was here, after all his labor in protecting her, after every step he persuaded her to take, she was here. How could he have been so surprised? Syrusses always gets what he wants.
It was time to make a last stand. So Cyran lifted his sword while Syrusses was turned and swung at his brother.
A Search for the King
It's only a matter of time before Nero, head of a powerful organization, tears Celeste's country apart. Under cover for Nero, Celeste meets the opposing side, but instead, meets a man who changes her mind and has her turn against her own fiance: Nero himself.
As a little girl, I had always dreamed of touching Jupiter’s flaming orange colors or soaring through the grey-tinted sky above my home. My mother, Isla, always told me stories of a time hundreds of years ago, when the people would cross mountains on foot and drink from wicker baskets. They had rags for clothes and farmed by hand, but their months and days were always the same as ours. My father, who has since passed away, told me stories about wars from the past. He told me about long battles that lasted for long years between angry nations. Between these stories, my parents always claimed that the old times were better than my time here. They never lived in those eras; first the prehistoric, then the ancient, then the medieval, then the industrial, and then the rise of technology. From the looks of it, history never quite repeated itself. Now, a thousand years later, our earth has grown and aged with its lasting human population. We have passed many eras, including a newly finished era. The time of the Paxmaia was a peaceful time, just after a great war that affected more than the innocent. My grandfather, Jilharar, served his time in the Battle of the Missiles, but most of him was lost within the grasp of the war. It was genocide that killed him. Not quite literally, but figuratively. He was a good man, someone who wouldn’t wish to bring such harm upon a race of people who so innocently wanted the war to end. It was this period of war that spurred my parent’s thinking. They said the Paxmaia will end and I will never have peace again. They believed superstitiously, but I didn’t. Isla was an architect, and designed her projects according to natural disasters and the fear of another war breaking out. Her designs worried her superiors, and because she was such a well-trained designer, they took her away from the buildings and put her in Home Designing, hoping her fear of war would brush off with lovely designs of octagonal condominiums. She made money, quite a bit of it, and I was a spoiled little rich girl. But being rich didn’t stop her from being fired. She looked towards my father for help financially, and all he had to do was create plans for our wealth, until he died. My father wasn’t a very cautious man. He took risks, despite the thought of war deep in his mind. However, he wasn’t risky enough. He was the right hand man to our nation’s Monarch. King Idail Aveto was dearly loved by a lot of his people. He was the right king for our growing Callahana. Callahana sprouted from the tip of a forgotten country called Canada. It is now called Bulmini, from the Bulminites that invaded, and it was broken down into several providences. Callahana broke away from the barbaric people of Bulmini for greedy reasons, like money and estate. However, it transformed into a beautiful country with a powerful King. Kind Idail Aveto, however, was disliked by many, including the Bulminites. My father was killed in an uprising of barbarians who had crossed Callahana’s borders. They meant for the king, but got my father instead. Isla talked to me that night. She told me my father was gone, and that we were on our own. What I hadn’t realized though, was that the very night, Idail Aveto was killed in his sleep, and his long royal line was brutally severed. I knew for a fact that it wasn’t the Bulminites that did it.
The Dreamer's Amulet
Talia Thay learns she is in a reality that seems more cartoonish than realistic. When she meets a man named Carter, she quickly falls in love with him. Now, after her aunt is killed she is caught in a raging battle to get an Amulet before an evil Wizard does.
The old woman, in her tattered pink robe and slippers, slowly sat down in the special rocking chair. The day had been long and rough. Capturing forbidden creatures was a long, laborious project that could take days. She had finally trapped the demons into the most horrible form she could think of.
Just as she hoped, a member of the DCA should appear tomorrow and take them away. She was done with this horrible world. No longer being a part of it, she could actually do things she had always wanted to do.
Outside thunder rolled across the sky, rain dumping like a bucket, but despite the loud noise, she could hear something else. Almost like a cry. From a child.
The woman stood, grabbing a flashlight from the shelf and her umbrella, then made her way outside. The crying was louder now. It was definitely a child.
She found the little girl hiding against the porch, shielding herself from the rain. The poor girl looked lost and alone, with no one to claim her.
She knelt down next to the child and said, “Child, where are your parents?”
The poor creature looked up and at the woman, contemplating on whether to speak or not. She made her choice quickly. “I don’t know.”
She frowned and put a hand on the child’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”
The girl looked up at her with wide, brown eyes. “I don’t….remember.