Writing Prompt

**_(For a quick thing before I go back to the main story. I will warn you it has a raping of a minor for Adon’s backstory…soooo.)

ADON_**

Shattering glass and yelling plagues my dreams, even though I’m far from that place. Even though I live a better life with people who actually love me, they still linger.

The night is dark, the stars in the sky shunning me from their shine. As though I don’t deserve it, as though I deserve to be alone. That’s what my father always said.

Holland agreed earlier today that I could sleep with him. Jack is angry at me for some unknown reason, and I’m still upset at Thomas for knawing on my newest doll’s arm. It took a long time to sew her back together and perseve her body again.

Holland’s back is towards me; so warm and welcoming. My doll, Trinity, is motionless on my chest as I squeeze her closer. That tingling feeling is happening again. Somethings going to go wrong. Someday. Some year.

We’re all going to fall apart soon.

Tears prick my eyes, and I stuff my face onto Holland’s back. I don’t want to be lonely anymore; it’s been amazing so far. My parents aren’t right. They aren’t and never will be.

I won’t be lonely. I won’t.

I won’t I won’t I won’t I won’t—

——

“Adon….”

I groan at the voice, my eyes rolling around in my closed eyelids as something warm flares onto them, causing them to turn a firey orange.

Someone strokes my cheek, my nose, then my brows. I sigh, relaxing back into that sleepy state, hoping to return to my dreams of bliss.

“You’re not helping, Holland,” a voice oddly sounding like my dear Jack says lowly, “That’s just going to make him fall asleep again.”

“Well,” Holland’s voice is that sweet nectar tone when he’s trying to persuade someone, “Won’t it be better if we do this without him? I mean, I love the man, but Adon will cling to us and the job will go slower.”

“I agree with Holland,” Thomas’ gruff voice enters the conversation.

I frown, eyes still closed but arms stretching. My throat is dry, so my voice comes out hoarse. “I wanna help….”

Holland—I think—pushes me down and tucks me back in. He tucks Trinity back in as well. “How about you two,” I assume he’s talking to Jack and Thomas, “go get the groceries. Go in and go out. We don’t need anyone on our trail.”

Jack huffs. “Who gave you the right to make orders?”

“Shut up, Jack. Just do what you have to do.”

It’s quiet for a moment, allowing me to settle deeper into unconsciousness. Thomas clears his throat. “I’m hungry—“

“THEN LEAVE!” Jack and Holland yell at the same time.

“Jeez,” Thomas walks away with heavy steps.

I don’t want to deal with this either, so I snuggle beside Trinity and hope they can figure this out soon.

——

My step-father stood before me, no weapon in his hand but dangerous all the same. He had hog tied me to the bed, leaving me defenseless against his wrath. I still had my clothes on, but knowing of what happened many times before, they were soon to leave me.

My mother knew of this, but she stood silent. She loved my step-father more than she loved me. She was at the park with my little sister, probably telling her that I deserved this—that this was my punishment for being born.

“Such an ugly boy,” he slurred above me, watching as I sniffled and cried, “Such a tiny one too. You’re daddy must have been a shit for your mother.”

I flinched away as his sweaty hand grabbed my chin. “Please….”

**Step-father’s hand came to my throat, and I choked as his hand tightened. “You bitch, you’ll always be alone, you know that. You’re so ugly that people will hate you; you’re so black that people will run away from you.” My step-father was pure white on the other hand. He was right. His was pure and I was a blemish on his pureness. **

Mother was light, my sister was too. Was my color the reason for this? That I deserved so much pain and suffering?

I gasped as he let go, drowning on air. Tears clouded my eyes as I coughed hard. Step-father, on the other hand, was smirking. His hands went to his buckle.

“The only thing you’re good for is your mouth. Now be quiet this time, we don’t want the neighbors to be nosy again, do we?”

——

(Bleh. No, I did NOT have a good time writing that btw, but it was necessary. Sorry I haven’t posted in two days, been busy reading books of RomCom and Omegaverse shit. 👍🏾 Bro, Wolfsong is the best book I’ve ever read, even after I finished reading and realized that it was for adults…. JOE! I WANT A JOE! Still waiting for Ravensong, so I can figure out the witch (forgot his name.) and Mark’s full backstory.

Anyways, thanks for reading and tell me what you think about Adon, the Sweet Thing. Love ya’ll and stay safe in this fucked up world! ❤️❤️)

Corbin Alt surveyed the scene in the Gil Creek diner with the precision that applied to cleaning his living room. “To catch a killer, you have to get in their mind,” he always said when asked why his floors and furniture looked pristine when he hosted parties. But this place was nothing like his living room. Snapped pieces of chairs and tables littered the diner’s floor. Bullet holes and casings could be found scattered over the mix of soon to be trash or evidence.

He adjusted his glasses over and over as he inspected every inch of the area. He stopped every now and again to take pictures with his cell phone.

After he was done, he met Detective Spacer outside in the parking lot. A crowd had gathered on the other side of the yellow tape.

“Anything?” said Spacer.

“I’m not sure yet, but the casings suggest a gun much larger than what we normally see on civilians. I’ve fired one once during my training. The gun itself weighs about 20 pounds,” said Corbin.

Spacer looked out at the crowd. “This is a mess. Can the media darling do something about this?”

Corbin smirked and said, “I’ll take care of them.” He wrote an address on a sticky note he got from his pocket. “Only one place in town sells them. The bullets are hard to come by, too. I suggest you leave immediately. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He walked to the tape and held up one hand to the crowd and put a handkerchief to his mouth. The crowd settled.

“At this time, we have no answers for this travesty. Just know it’s best if you go home. The media will keep you informed of our progress.”

A lady with a black raincoat and pony tail broke through the mess of people and called out, “C.I. Corbin, is it true that military grade weaponry has been released into the streets of Luminous?”

Corbin frowned and stayed silent. “Just know we have it handled.” As the crowd began to disperse, he turned to leave as she called after him.

Later in his Mustang, he leaned back in his seat, put his glasses in the dash and rubbed his eyes with his hands.

He heard a knocking on his window. Looking up, he saw the same reporter from earlier.

Rolling down his window, he said, “I still have no comment.”

“I’m not looking for a comment. I’m looking for a chance. Hail Frigate.” She lifted a gun from under her raincoat and blew his brains out.

And that’s how they found Corbin Alt, brains blown out in his car, glasses in the dash. His contributions to the case would be used to stop the Frigate, but he would never host a dinner party again.

Kyle arrived back from school and the first thing he had to pick up from the floor was his jaw.

He did not expect to find half of contents of his living room scattered all over the living room floor.

It was a distressing and frightening sight to come home to.

He wanted to ask his mother what had happened today in the living room, whether his mother was okay and that she wasn’t hurt.

But he was scared he might fall to pieces if he asked.. he was already struggling to keep it together himself.

“What the…” Isolde breathed, kneeling down and waving her hand over the glass. “Oh God, you don’t think…?”

“No way,” Rae said decisively. “Aldith said this was linked to Liadain, it’s got to be some sort of nightmare.”

Yes, yes, Aislinn knew plenty of people who were so scared of white paint they’d have nightmares where their entire houses were covered with it.

“This isn’t a nightmare, idiot,” Isolde groaned.

“Yeah, I agree,” Aislinn said.

“Oh, you’re only saying that because it’s your twin we’re talking about,” Rae spat.

“Neivraith bleed white.”

They’d still not been taught about the demons that managed to be worse than any nightmare — even when Liadain was involved — and Aislinn had spent far more time than was probably healthy doing research of her own. Through it, she’d learnt that neivraith bled white, which was definitely an interesting feature, and that they were extremely difficult to kill. The idea that someone who had no formal training could slaughter several of them (it had to be several, for this amount of blood) was crazy to think about, but it was the only idea that was even slightly plausible.

And sure, a part of her, a very small part, wanted to prove that Liadain was good, the truth wasn’t looking to be to her liking. The rumours that Liadain was working alongside the neivraith as a sort of ‘frenemy’ of the monsters startled her more than she liked to admit — particularly because they were spread by Aldith herself and Aislinn knew that they were a total fabrication because there were visible signs of an alliance with neivraith — but Aislinn couldn’t help but admit that some of the things she’d heard were truthful, and the power to exacerbate nightmares definitely wasn’t a good one…

“Rae, Aislinn has every right to be on her twin’s side,” Isolde said, straightening up. “Now, where to next, Ash?”

“Don’t call me that… uh…” She sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Of all the useless things!” Rae snapped, kicking a broken chair leg. It was sent skidding across the floor and hit the wall with a too-loud thud.

A floorboard creaked upstairs.

My favorite time of the day was being in school. Surrounded with my friends, my mind on nothing but my assignments and making it on time to the next class. All the nightmares are at home, and I don’t want to go there. When the bell rings signaling the end of the school day … I have 30 minutes to get home or there will be questions why I didn’t come on time. Without a good explanation, not that any of my explanations were heard, the sound of the belt would always follow. The bruises were always hidden. No one ever saw them, no one ever knew. I learned to smile through it all and say “I’m fine” long ago. My lips would tremble but I’d stop them by putting a smile on my face that way no one would see. The anguish and the pain my life brought to me. That day I walked in the door, it was quiet. It usually wasn’t. Arguments or clanking dishes or loud music were always my welcome when I came home, but not today. Today was quiet. Something turned in my stomach and I started breathing harder. The smell was different too. It seemed familiar but I couldn’t place it. As I entered the living room, I knew I was too late. The argument already finished, and I was left with the clean up. My mothers favorite dishes were broken, in tiny pieces on the floor. Bloody footprints followed through the living room where my books were thrown all over the floor. Most were ripped, but all were damaged. The couch and the sofa were turned upside down, the tv was broken. Then I heard the sob. I followed the blood drops to the corner and found my brother curled up on the floor. His feet were bloody from waking in the glass. He looked so defeated, and broken. He looked at me and said “I was late.” As I went to pick my brother up and take him to clean up, he stood in the doorway with the belt, sinister look in his eyes. As I started to say “Please don’t” I felt the pain in my head and I fell. I don’t remember anything else.

Amy doubled over and fell to her knees. This was not supposed to happen.

Her eyes scanned the room. Shattered glass and crystal littered the floor, cracked plates and bowls strewn among them. Broken furniture was scattered everywhere; the dining table had been destroyed, and most of the chairs had one or two legs ripped off.

Amy panted heavily. She had no idea how she was going to clean this all up before her sister came home. All of it bad been extremely unexpected. Sure, her powers had been growing more volatile recently, and usually fluctuated with her emotions, but never… THIS bad.

She moved shakily to her feet, but then fell again as she heard the keys clicking in the lock on the door.

“Amy?” Calista’s voice called as she walked down the hall towards the dining room. Amy’s heart doubled in speed. No no no no…

“What are you—“ Calista froze in the doorway.

“I-I know it looks bad,” Amy stammered, attempting to get to her feet again. And failing. “But I promise, I have everything under control!”

Her sister moved towards her and wordlessly extended a hand. Amy took it, then pulled herself and leaned on her sister’s shoulder, still not having enough energy to stand.

“This is bad, Amy,” Calista whispered as she took in the mess. “This is really bad.”

“But hey, it’s okay! Because we have brooms and… and glue, right? We can fix it, right?” Amy looked into Calista’s eyes, practically begging her to say yes.

Calista dropped her gaze. “Amy, no. You have to tell them.”

Amy squirmed in her sister’s hold. “That’s crazy talk. We don’t need to tell anybody!” She waved a nervous hand. “No, no. It’s not a big deal. Look, we’ll just go to the cleaning closet, grab a broom and some buckets and—“

“Amy.”

Amy squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to.”

Calista sighed and helped her tiptoe around the broken glass and out of the dining room to the hall, then into the living room, where both girls sank into the sofa beside one another.

A beat.

Calista spoke first. “Amy. This is only going to get worse. You can’t keep hiding your powers from our moms like this. You need training.”

“I can handle my powers,” Amy protested. She crossed her arms. “I’ve been fine up until today!”

“And what about what you did to my closet last week after Mama yelled at you? Or two days ago, when you ripped out two trees from the backyard on accident?”

Amy huffed. “We fixed your closet in ten minutes. And the trees were judging me. They deserved it.”

Her sister exhaled. “Look, I know how badly you don’t want to go to the Academy. I know you don’t want to leave home, but clearly, you need to. It’s the best thing for you. You need help, Ame.”

Tears suddenly sprung to Amy’s eyes.

Calista sighed and gently rubbed Amy’s back. “I’m not saying you’re not strong enough or anything. But I think we both know what you are.”

A silent pause.

“I’m a Windmaster,” Amy whispered, the reality of that statement sinking in. “Aren’t I?”

She looked at Calista, who nodded. “Definitely. But in order to maximize those powers and use them for good, you have to go to the Academy. Otherwise, how will we ever know what you’re fully capable of? If you can tear our entire dining room apart,” she said, cracking a smile, “Then imagine what you could do to a dragon or a rogue troll! You have to go, Ame.” She took her sister’s hands in hers. “Don’t you think?”

Amy wiped away some of her tears. She blew out a breath. “How am I going to tell Mama and Mum? What will they say? What if they…” she cleared her throat. “What if they say no?”

Calista smiled. So her sister’s hesitance about telling their moms of her powers wasn’t just because she was scared of leaving home— she was scared of them keeping her from leaving home.

Calista’s smile broadened. “And what if they say yes?”

Amy threw her arms around her sister, squeezing her tight. She cried a little more, letting her tears sink into Calista’s shirt and dampen it. “I’m nervous, Cal.”

“Don’t worry. They’ll let you go. I promise.”

Just then, both girls looked up as they heard the familiar sounds of keys clicking in a lock.

Calista squeezed her sister’s hands. “It’s time.”

They had worked so very hard for many years. To build the perfect home that was far from the city. The Brandon family, had spent years building there empire. One afternoon while out feeding the animals they heard a loud explosion. They ran out of the barn to see there home engulfed, flames had taken over the sound of glass shattering, the rumbling of the roof collapsing. The feeling of being helpless as everything was turning into ashes right before there eyes. There dream gone in no time at all. As the tears ran down there cheeks they felt helpless nothing they could do the nearest fire station was 20 minutes away. There dream home was gone within minutes the years of hard work, there belongings there pictures all the memories shattered dreams. Neighbors, friends from all around came to try to comfort and help, but the damage was done. Mr. Brandon, hugged his wife and said, you know we didn’t lose everything. Mrs Brandon said how can you say that. Well you see we built this place together and we are still here, and we still have hope and health. I know I have your support we will reconstruct right here on our land. Mrs. Brandon, hugged her husband and held him tight. Thank God for you! Thank God we survived! Material things can be replaced and they went off to the barn where mr Brandon, had his man cave and decided to get some rest and plan for the future.

       Mr. Brandon said, strange how what took years and years to build was gone in a few hours, but I believe everything has a reason. You remember how after we had finished building we would discuss about things we should of done different and now we will have the chance to do just that. All the ideals we had thought about over the years, we will now be able to put together in our new project. They say our work is never done until it’s over and they both laughed. You know you always have a great sense of humor and your a great husband. We are a team!  Love will keep us together. 

                                  Written By:
                                  Ghostrider 
                                   7-22-2021

John, The Grandkid’s Version I remembered it happening like this. Some friends and mine were wondering around the mansion, when we heard this terrible racket. Being the young teenagers we are, we ran towards the area we heard the sound from. Standing in the middle of the room was this horrifying beast with being red eyes and taser sharp teeth’s. It looked like a combination of a bear and a wolf. My friends and I started running, and the beast followed us. We started running towards the safe room, which had boards up on its doors. Annie quickly started pulling them down, throwing them behind us hoping that it would hit the beast in the head…

“That’s not how it happened stupid!” Marie screamed.

“I wouldn’t think old people would believe us young ones,” John stated.

“Be nice to your grandma, young man!” Marie said. “This is how it truly happened.”

Marie, The Wife’s Version There was a party that had been thrown by my wonderful husband, the owner of the mansion. The food and drinks were simply marvelous! Of course all of the teenagers were running around the mansion being dumb as usual, while us adults and elders were having a blast partying! My husband and I had lots of fun chatting with some of our old friends. I remember seeing that there was a group of adults who had drank too much, and thought it be fun to break things around the room. Before you knew it, windows were broken and curtains were torn.

“I may have not been in there but I can assure you that’s not what happened,” The butler said.

“Whatever,” Marie scoffed.

“Well if you know what happened why don’t you tell,” Scott, the detective said.

“Well I will!” James the butler said, getting out of his chair.

James, The Butlers Version Master had requested I serve tea for the people in the party. The tea had been drunken all, so I agreed to his request. I made the tea and placed it on my silver platter. I walked into the room where the party was. I seen Marie and the master talking with some guests, and John running off with his friends. As I started walking around the room, it started to shake! Windows managed to be broken, and people tore the curtains from panicking. The guests were starting to take cover underneath things, and I did the same. I ran underneath the food table, and tried to figure out what was this horrible thing. It soon came to me. An earthquake!

“That’s not how it happened either stupid!” Marie yelled.

“I swear it was a beast!” John exclaimed.

“Beasts don’t exist, sonny,” Marie said calmly.

“You’d have to see it to believe it!”

“Well what was that shaking?” James asked.

“This has been going on for too long!” Kevin, the owner of the mansion yelled. “I’m sure Scott is tired of hearing you people bickering! Now this is how it really happened!”

Kevin, The Owner/Master’s Version As it’s been told in all of these other versions, I was at the party with my wife, visiting with some friends. John ran off with his friends, and James went to go get more tea. Now, I’d love to know where you folks have been getting these crazy ideas from, for none of them ever happened. You see, when the guests started arriving, they went to the wrong room. The real party room was all set up for a party, with great food and great lighting. For some reason, the guests went to the old party room, where the windows are broken and the curtains are torn. You see, none of your stories happened. There were so many people at the party, that no one noticed the room was worn down. I brought the food and drinks to the old party room, so no one would realize.

“I guess my work here is done,” Scott said. He got up. And headed to the door.

“That’s why you always pay attention to small details,” Kevin said. “You never know when it’ll be important.”

The shattered glass and broken furniture scattered everywhere gave the impression that a tornado had passed through, but it was something much worse.

 It was me. 

 My mother had always said I was dangerous. Unpredictable and uncontrollable. 

 She said I was a ticking time bomb. I guess she was right.  

 Bodies line the ground. Blood pools on the wooden floor. 

 My hands shake and tears run down my cheeks. Splattered blood lines my face. I wipe my face with my arm and it dyes my hand red. 

 Never in all my life would I ever expect myself to do something this bad. 

 I run from the room and shove the front doors open to the dark night. The coldness of nighttime bites at my nose and cheeks. I’m only wearing a tank top and jeans. 

 I turn my head to the left and strain my ears. Police sirens sound in the distance. They get closer and closer until I can see a glimpse of the flashing red and blue lights. 

 My tennis shoes make a subtle slapping sound hitting the ground as I turn to run down a dark alley. 

 As I get to the end of the alley my feet slow and I bend over, breathing heavy. I’m winded. 

 “Hey!” I hear from the other end of the alley. A police officer stands at the edge of the alleyway. Their hand on the waist belt. Wear their gun is. 

 I stand fully up and force myself to run again. 

 “Hey!” They say again. “Stop!” 

 They began to run in my direction pulling their gun out of their belt. 

 I take a left down another alley. Behind me, I hear more than just one set of footsteps. 

 Loud bangs go off from behind me. I keep running until I feel something hit me from the back and I fall forward. My body hits the ground and my face rests against the cold cement, unable to move. 

 As my blood spills out one last thought enters my head about what I did. 

 Whenever I get angry I snap. But this time I did more. 

 I exploded.

There was only a moment of calm before it started. Choas made haste with his arrival, and soon a cacophony of screams and breaking things rose high in the space around me. Worn books, old knick-knacks and still occupied vases beat the walls as they violently sailed across the room. Tables and chairs were flipped and smashed against against one another, while dressers were overturned and doors littered with dents and holes. The broken song of destruction rang loud in my ears as I watched with wild eyes the constant spray of glass and splintered wood cover the floor. I felt a dull pain in my leg, but I didn't look to see what it was. The turmoil pressed on and I didn't try to stop it. I gave in to it before I stepped through the door. I would let it take whatever it wanted; hurt me however it saw fit.

When the last fallen object joined the rest, I took my own place among the ruin. I sat down and felt the silence settle over my shoulders. As I looked over all the sad and broken things, my eyes fell on one of the few items left standing: a picture frame. I stared at it for a long while, neatly tucked in its corner on the bookshelf, and I thought about why I did what I did.

"It doesn't feel like a home without you here," I heard myself whisper.

Then, for the first time, I let myself grieve. The shattered glass and broken furniture made it seem like a tornado had passed through, but it was something much worse: our life had been taken from us before we had the chance to live it. We ran out of time far too quickly. And as I wept, I wondered if this is what it was to be human, if all that's meant for us is to create a life for ourselves, only to lose it; to build a home, only to tear it down again.