I write when I feel like it so their will be giant gaps in my time here. One of my biggest dreams is writing a novel so if any of you have any writing tips I’d really really love to hear them!
I write when I feel like it so their will be giant gaps in my time here. One of my biggest dreams is writing a novel so if any of you have any writing tips I’d really really love to hear them!
I’ve lived underground for most of my life. 12 years, two months, and 5 and a half days, If you want to be exact.
Leaving my hole in the ground was bittersweet. Sure, I’d wished to feel what my mother had called sunlight or hear the wind through the tall green trees every hour of the 4448.41 days I’ve been in here. But that had been my life, and I’ve gotten used to it. And when you can only remember one thing, it’s scary when all of a sudden that one thing that you know so well is gone. So maybe bittersweet is the wrong word for it, maybe the word I’m looking for is fear. Fear of new things, fear of unfamiliar things, fear of real things and real people, not just the drawings I would trace over and over into the dirt on the floor. Maybe my heart was yelling “yes! Sunlight! Water! Trees! Food!” But my brain was yelling “no! Danger! Danger!” But I knew that I couldn’t stay in the ground forever. Or else I’d end up like my Mother, Buried in the very dirt that was her downfall. When my mother was still alive she would tell me stories about the outside world, so, so many stories. By now I knew them all by heart, for that was the only entertainment we had. And when my mother died I still remembered those stories, and I told them to the walls surrounding me so I should never forget. But we’re the things she told me about still real? Was there still endless seas of water? Was there still foxes and geese and cats? Did other humans still exist? I had no way of knowing. And that scared me most of all. That I’d come out of my hole and I’d still be alone.
I sit in a tree. the wind is blowing around me, cool on my burning cheeks. I lean my head against the branch, my body feels heavy, like its made of metal. And it’s trying to trap me to the earth, trying to stop me from flying. The wind is getting colder and colder, and I have the feeling that my bones are freezing inside me, slowly chipping away, in tiny frozen pieces… My eyes are now the only thing that is not frozen. I look up and see the moon, is this who is doing this to me? Why are you freezing me moon? A looming shadow comes up beside the moon, it has a snout like a wolf, and teeth like one two. It swallows the moon whole, draining the world of light. Ha. Serves you right for freezing me inside out. Do you think the sun will be nicer? I sure hope so. I’m not really in the mood for being burned alive. And besides, I’d like to find it before I die. Find what? Oh, just my pet named sanity.
A whisper in the night. A shadow in the darkness. My eyes are like an eagles, I can see them in the dark. My ears are like a bats, I can hear them through the traffic. “Where is Eugene?” “I know as little as you, Joan.” “Sigh. Why is he always late?” “It must be for a good reason”, “Oh it better be… well did you at least get the layout?” “Of course I did Joan, you don’t have very much confidence in me do you?” “Oh just give me the parchment already.” “Of course.” The man takes a sheet of parchment out of his pocket and hands it to the woman-Joan is her name I think?-it’s of-white colour is a stark against the blacks and grays of their clothing, she takes the paper and puts it in her pocket. A tall man walks up to them, he is carrying some kind of basket, “Joan? Caleb?” He says, his voice is nervous and weak. “We’re right here.” Says the man standing next to Joan. “Sorry I’m l-“ he doesn’t have time to respond. I jump down from the rooftop, silent as a spider, and in seconds there dead. I leave them slumped on the road, blood pooling around them. And then, just like a shadow, I disappear with the rising sun.
I walk into are old, local bookstore. a smell of books both old and new meet my nose, new books have a sharp tang to them, while old books smell slightly musty, both are warm and comforting. The old bookstore has always been my escape, but today it felt different, almost magical…. I dismiss the thought though, it’s probably just because theirs more people in here then usual, why are their that many people anyway? And, is that a police officer? What’s she doing in here? I open the inside door and everyone’s faces whip towards me, this seems to break everyone out of their silent circle. An old lady starts to cry hysterically, the police officer makes a phone call, and a young girl pushes past me, silent tears streaming down her face. I glimpse something on the floor behind them, I squeeze my way through everyone. But what i see is not expected. the owner of the bookstore, an old man, is lying on the ground, eyes wide open, colourless. I gasp. I kneel to the ground, though I already know what I will feel when I lay my hand on his chest. nothing. No rise or fall, no beating heart. Empty. How? Why? I voice these questions to the person beside me, not fully expecting an answer at all, but she shakes her head and says: “no one knows, he was the first one who saw him” she jerks her head to a man around 20 in age “he came out screaming for someone to call 911, officer Jane came running, but theirs no witnesses, nobody knows what happened.” She finishes shrugging. I can’t believe it, the kind old man downtown who runs my favourite book shop is…gone?! Who did this? What did this? was it some kind of sickness? People around me seem to be coming to the same conclusion. Officer Jane calls everyone to go home, she says it was probably just a heart attack. But then someone yells at her, I turn around, it’s a woman, I’ve met her before, she comes to the bookstore a lot and sometimes takes shifts there, her name is Marie if I remember right. “Just a heart attack!? How can you say that?! My father is dead!! Shouldn’t you investigate!!? Shouldn’t you be running tests!? And even if it is a heart attack, your saying it like he just had a cold! He’s lying on the floor dead for Christ’s sake!!” People are staring at her but she doesn’t seem to care, she just keeps yelling. I would too of course if my father was dead, but that doesn’t keep me from taking a step back. “Okay, okay.” Says officer Jane trying to calm the hysterical woman down “I’m sorry that my tone offended you. your right, I should have been more considerate. I’m so sorry. But we really need to have a level head about this or we won’t figure it out.” But this just makes Marie more angry. taking one more sad look at the old bookkeeper, I turn to leave, I push the door open with my shoulder. Inhaling as I step outside, I breath in and out. Clean air, untouched by the stench of death. I start towards the direction of my house, but I freeze when I hear the sound of something in the back alleyway behind the bookstore. I take a step closer, it sounds like someone is rooting through the old dumpster out back. Unable to resist, I walk into the alleyway. Theirs a big… dog? Pawing through the garbage. But, no. That can’t be a dog, for it looks like it’s made of writhing smoky black tentacles. I turn to run but before I get two steps, it turns around and leaps.
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Hi everyone! Hope you liked my story! It’s been sitting in my drafts for a long time so I thought it might be fun to finally finish it. hope everyone is doing all right, and please tell me if you like this and if it’s good enough to do a second chapter.
Everyone knew the travelling medicine man. But nobody ever wanted to see him, for that Meant someone was very sick indeed. The medicine man only came out if someone was on their deathbed, Plagued with the ghosts of the underworld. Some said the medicine man was a ghost himself, dead from sickness and come back to the living to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Others said he was not from the under world but he was a god, banished from the clouds because of some awful deed, doomed forever to help sick mortals on earth. I knew better though, I knew he wasn’t some god trying to write his wrongs, And he wasn’t a ghost either, come to help mankind. No, he’s just a man, a man trying to make the world better.
I try to steady my hands as I walk, distracting myself by memorizing the ups and downs of this place, mentally visualizing a map in my head. I look up as we pass through a side door into a grand hall, white marble pillars climb to the ceiling then arch inward swooping into giant arcs. It’s the biggest room I’ve ever seen in my life, it must have taken years and years to build it, not to mention the money it must have cost. My guide, a middle aged man with gray hair and a slight limp beckons me forward. I walk across the smooth white floor, nerves tugging at my stomach. I reach the end of the hall, two black iron doors loom over me, daring me to open them. “In you go.” Says my guide, his voice sounds gravely and rough, like his voice is suffering from disuse. I reach up to open the doors but before I even touch the handles the door swings open.
I step into the room my eyes adjusting as I make out the two thrones and the people all around them. The only light in the room is coming from the windows lining the walls. The light is silver, moonlight. “Come girl, we don’t have much time.” The voice comes from a figure standing in the middle of the room, she’s covered in a veil and the only thing visible is her wrinkled hands, protruding from the cloth. Everyone knows who she is, everyone respects her. She is our leader. She is the queens advisor. But right now, she is only focused on me. And it’s terrifying. I step forward and kneel to the ground before her. “My name is Hazel Ravenscroft.” I say, willing my voice to sound calm. She reaches her withered hand toward me and lifts my chin up, I find myself looking into eyes I’ve never seen before, there a dark brown, they almost look normal except for the sharpness, sharpness that says: I see you Hazel, I see who you are, and I know what you will become. I can cut straight through you if I wish, and fish out all your secrets. She starts to speak. “Kneeling before me you are a girl. But if the gods look kindly on you then you will leave this hall a witch. If not, you will stay with the gods and serve them until the end of time. Rise Hazel Ravenscroft! And seek your fate!”
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I kinda got the idea from the book I just finished, about a witch named Voya who lives in Toronto I think around the year 2050? So very cool because it’s about witches, which is a very old idea that’s been around for a while, but she lives in the future. So Definitely check it out if you can. the first one is called blood like magic by Liselle Sambury. Please tell me if you like this story!
This was taking way to long, thought Mira. Someone should have opened that door by now. She was just about to give up when she heard the door creak open, her whole body tensed up, she slowly peeked around the wall, please let it not be Elijah. It wasn’t, Thank god. Instead it was the girl with the fair hair again, she was arguing with someone behind the door, her voice rising in octaves. “Come on Joseph, you know I’m careful, besides! I’m the only one who can do it anyway! You can’t do it! Neither can Olive or Elijah!” Mira’s breath caught at the sound of her brothers name, the other person replied, the voice was quite so she couldn’t hear it, Mira turned her head trying to catch what they were saying, she still couldn’t hear! Though she did realize that the person on the other side was a man, his voice deep and rich. Their arguing finally stopped, and the door swung closed. The girl started to turn, Mira quickly withdrew her head, and readied herself with the brick. Mira could hear the girl approaching, her long skirts swishing. Mira took a deep breath, and… she leaped out from behind the wall swinging the brick at the girls head, the girl let out a small yelp of surprise, then crumpled to the ground. Mira stood looking down at the girl, horror blossoming inside her at what she had done. She quickly knelt to the ground checking that the girl was breathing, she was, thank the angels. Mira dragged the girl to a dark corner, careful not to hit her head in the process. She fished around in the girls pockets, finally finding an old rusty key. She stood up and made her way to the door, she fitted the key in the lock, turned. For a second Mira was scared that this was the wrong key, but then she heard the satisfying “click!” And the door swung open
(Chapter two is lost and found)
I walk back to the small flat that we have spent many years toiling for, switching from job to job from city to city. I make sure that I memorize the way to the secret door in the alleyway, so that I can come back tomorrow. I finally reach the flat, I flop down on to the small mattress that I used to share with Camila (Elijah would sleep on the floor because he said that the mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable and that he liked to be able to feel solid ground beneath him). My brain was buzzing, trying to figure out what I had just seen. What was Elijah doing? And who was the girl? Did Elijah have a secret lover? But no, it couldn’t be that. He would have just told me. Was he doing something illegal? No, that’s even less likely, he was usually the one keeping me out of trouble not the other way around. If neither of those, then what was he doing? And why was he hiding?
Mirabella made her way through the the streets making sure to not draw any attention, though there weren’t many people on the street at this hour anyway. a heavy brick was concealed under her coat, pressing into her stomach. She new there was probably an easier way to open the door that also didn’t involve getting anyone hurt , but she didn’t have enough time to make another plan. Every minute that she wasted was one more minute that Elijah could be in trouble. she arrived at the alleyway breathing hard, She hadn’t noticed that she had started to run until she had reached her destination, Mira skidded to a stop, worried that someone inside the door had heard her pounding feet. “Dang!” She said under her breath, the trash can she was going to hide behind was gone, now when someone opened the door they would see her right away, and her chance would be ruined. She instead pressed herself against the corner wall, it wasn’t an ideal hiding place but at least she wasn’t out in the open. She was grateful that it was night though, for if it had been day there would surely be people still out, and it’s hard to escape attention when you just hit someone in the head with a brick.
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Hiya everyone! Hope you all are liking my little set of short stories(sorry for the very unimaginative titles), please comment tips or whether you liked it or not! Or just tell me how your doing, I would love to hear from you in general. Thanks! -Queenof❤️s