Here you go! There may be some formatting errors, Blogger doesn't like being correct in those areas. :p It is also a very rough draft, so...comments welcome!
Chapter One
“Ow!” A sharp pain racked through Dakota O’Neill’s left arm as someone whacked it with their book bag in an endeavor to get past her. “Watch it!” She instinctively hissed as she whipped her head around. Scanning the frenzied crowd, she looked for the person who had been in such a hurry. Whoever it was had long since disappeared into the seemingly numberless mass of high school students. Dakota gently massaged her wrist and scowled. This is crazy. Who would’ve ever thought that a high school would seem like a concert for the hottest band in the country?
She looked around at the crowd for a moment; there were kids crammed shoulder to shoulder in a tiny cafeteria that was unworthy of the task it served. The small space was regularly shared by all of the students in both the high school and the middle school and was usually packed with no free room to breathe.
Dakota blinked and winced at the throbbing in her arm that reminded her of the old injury. She looked down at the skin covering her knuckles and the upper joints of her fingers; the area was peppered with whitish spots and lines that had a different texture than the surrounding skin. It was the place where she had ground her knuckles into the abrasive road.
She clamped her right hand around her left wrist and rolled the stiff joint around until it cracked. Grimacing at the sudden pain, she relaxed when the pressure almost automatically lifted. Dakota held her left hand up to eye level and flexed her fingers and wrist. Content with the ache and stiffness that usually befitted the joints; she gritted her teeth and examined it thoughtfully. It had never fully healed.
Sudden deep resonant hums and high-pitched squeals from the microphone made everyone in the cafeteria instantaneously cringe. All sound except for the chorus of groans that came from the annoyed teenagers was immediately cut off. Every head turned toward the temporary stage that was set up at the head of the room. A tall, slender woman stood in front of the microphone; her face looked fairly young, but the barely noticeable gray that streaked through her hair discreetly announced her age. The noises of unfazed kids chattering and laughing started to rise again.
Dakota watched the woman’s forehead draw down into an irritated crease; the lady reached down to adjust the microphone to her own height. With a poised flip of her dark hair, the woman jerked her jacket straight and glared at the entire crowd disapprovingly.
“Will everyone please quiet down?” Her strong and commanding voice seemed to escalate in reverberation as the sound reached each student’s ears. Every head turned back toward the voice attentively. The prattle and clamor were silenced in an instant; every person’s rapt attention was on the woman.
The woman’s stern appearance softened to a bright smile. All of the lines and grooves in her face flipped upward in delight. She suddenly started laughing cheerfully, upholding her graceful composure while cracking up. She held her hand to her chest and stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath. “You guys wouldn’t believe the outrageous looks that you gave me.” She resumed her bout of mirth. “That was classic!”
Everyone was motionless and silent as they tried to absorb shock. Nobody, especially Dakota, knew what to make of this woman’s peculiar outburst. Dakota watched suspiciously as the lady, clad in a black pantsuit, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that was given to her by a nearby teacher. The woman chuckled a bit and clapped her hands together in front of her. “Well, now that I have your attention, let me introduce myself.” Her green eyes grew vivid as she illustrated her sentences with her hands. “I am Jocelyn McCauley, Mrs. McCauley to all of you. I’m the principal here at Alliance High, and am the co-principal with Mr. Greeley of Alliance Middle School. So, for all of you who are new students here this year,” She lowered her gaze for a moment and swept it across the room. Her emerald tinted eyes almost seemed to study every student in the room, and for some reason, settled upon Dakota for a much longer period of time than the rest.
Dakota felt her face grow bright red. Suddenly feeling guilt like she’d just committed a murder, she ducked her head timidly and didn’t make eye contact with Mrs. McCauley. But, for some reason, she was more curious than afraid and coolly flicked her eyes back to the stage. Mrs. McCauley’s bright and cheery face had moved on, looking through the crowd. Dakota jadedly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. What is it that makes people look at me like that? It’s as if they can all see straight through me.
Mrs. McCauley hastily broke out into a nauseatingly fake smile, opened her arms wide and continued her speech. “For all of the new students here with us, we warmly welcome you to Alliance High!” A scattered bit of applause echoed awkwardly through the gymnasium.
Dakota stared down at her shoes; they were scuffed, worn, and deserved a proper burial after all they had been through. She scoffed as she stubbed the toe into the tile floor. What a joke. She crossed her arms tightly, and stared hard at her shoes. She didn’t feel very tolerant right now. She lifted her eyes to gaze out of a nearby window, fading the noise around her as muted sounds whispering from a mile away. With a sigh, she thought back to that morning.
She hadn’t exactly gotten off to a great start with the people in charge; her attitude had gone down the drain ever since she arrived at the Twin Eagles Group Home three weeks ago. This morning was concrete evidence that most of the volunteers had already given up on her. She couldn’t blame them; she felt like she barely knew who she was anymore. Most of the time, she couldn’t find a motive to wake up in the morning and face life. Pure obstinacy on her part was the only reason she gritted her teeth and kept on.
Dakota rubbed her eyes and adjusted her vision to the busy city street outside. She was sure that she would be greeted with disgusted looks and accusing stares when she got back to the home after school. Right now, she wasn’t really sure if she cared or not. Too many things had turned her life inside out in the past three years. She just didn’t know what to think about anything anymore.
The last family that had taken her into their home, the O’Malley’s, welcomed her with smiles and open arms, even after they’d read file after file that the system had on her. For one moment, Dakota truly thought she had found a place where she would belong. The young couple promised that they would stick with her through thick and thin; they swore to nurture her and love her, unlike the foster family before them. Still uneasy and hesitant to get close to anybody else because of the abuse she endured from the previous family, Dakota kept the couple at arm’s length.
Feeling that they had failed and couldn’t get through to her, the O’Malley’s took her back to the system under false statements that Dakota “had trashed their property numerous times”. They did all this because they wanted a kid who wasn’t a “withdrawn psychotic”, as Mr. O’Malley told her in exasperation one day. The system hadn’t even bothered to investigate, and worked on sending her somewhere else. That was four weeks ago.
Dakota was tired of trying to live up to people’s standards when nobody ever appreciated her, ever. She was fed up with being used, then tossed aside like garbage. Why try to get someone to love you when they’ve already made up their mind that you’re nothing but a worthless girl? It hurt her every time; though each time it hurt a little less, like her heart was silently growing numb.
Dakota shifted in her chair. This morning had been one of her quieter days, though it wasn’t one of Kat Myers’, one of the counselors working at the Twin Eagles Home.
“You are nothing but bad news, Dakota O’Neill!” Mrs. Myers had said, shoving her fists onto her hips. “I’ve heard not one good thing about you since you’ve gotten here, only countless bad things! The latest in is how you’ve beaten up some first graders while you were Iowa because you didn’t want to be transferred here to Nebraska.”
Dakota stiffened defensively. “I didn’t beat up a first grader!” She shook her head in disbelief. “I couldn’t do that.” She looked at her feet. Not after what the Warners did to me.
Mrs. Myers looked up with an eyebrow cocked. “No, you didn’t beat up a first grader; you harassed a group of them. You’re a regular tyrant.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.” Dakota’s voice raised in pitch, she was about to scream in frustration. She looked back to the floor. If she only had a penny for every time someone accused her of something she wasn’t guilty of…
With an irritated flip of her brown hair, she grabbed Dakota’s chin and yanked it up. She zeroed in on Dakota’s eyes and locked onto them. “Oh yeah? I guess you didn’t shoplift from a convenience store before you left, either. Oh, and I also heard that you were passing out drugs to some of the kids a week after you got here. I’ve got three kids who swear that they got their joints straight from you.”
Stunned, Dakota blinked and stared at Mrs. Myers. “I-I’ve never done drugs before.” Anxiety coursed through her. Why was everyone so dead-set against her? All she’d done was get settled in, and people were bearing down on her like vultures. She’d truly never done any of that; well, none except for shoplifting, but that was a long time ago. Was there a neon sign that read “guilty as charged” flashing over her head or something?
“Just because you’ve never done drugs doesn’t mean you’re not selling them.” Mrs. Myers clamped her hand harder on Dakota’s chin, then let go. With a deep scowl on her face, she shook her head. “The way you are, Dakota O’Neill, you’re never going to get anywhere in life. As of now, you’re already going to be doing a few years’ time for that whole drug thing; we just need to get the police in this now.”
Dakota couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I haven’t done anything wrong! You’re blaming me for things that I didn’t do!” Her voice was loud, shrill, and carried throughout the home. “I’m sorry that I’m ruining your happy lives; it’s not like it was my choice to come here in the first place.” She straightened her posture and glared into Mrs. Myers eyes.
Mrs. Myers frowned. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t my decision for you to come here, either. This is a home for kids who are willing to listen, willing to change. It’s not for kids who are impossible to get through to. If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota scoffed. “Why try to amount to anything when nobody cares? Why try if I’m always going to be beat down like I’m the bad guy?” She grabbed her bag off of her bed and turned on her heels, storming out of the room. Mrs. Myers’ words echoed in her mind like an unwelcome thought. “If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota shook the memory off and tore her stare away from the window. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Despite her attempts, dread settled down on her conscious.
“You will amount to nobody…” She huffed slightly and crossed her arms. What does she care, anyway?
A loud clap abruptly rebounded through the room. Dakota jolted upright and cast her wide eyes to the front of the room. Mrs. McCauley stood with her palms together, an expression of satisfaction etched on her face.
“That’s better.” Mrs. McCauley said with a grim smirk. “I was afraid that I would have to come down there and wake up the distracted students myself.” She folded her arms delicately. “Trust me; none of you would want that to happen to you.”
Dakota swallowed hard at the ominous smile that spread onto the principal’s face. Guilt once again flooded her and rose to her face as a deep blush.
Mrs. McCauley adjusted the microphone. “Okay, where were we? Ah, yes…locker combinations, a map of the campus, class schedules, and homeroom assignments will be in the packet that you’ll be given when you walk out to explore.” She paused. “Any questions?”
A short, red-haired girl stood and boldly tossed her hand into the air.
Mrs. McCauley nodded. “Yes? What’s your name?”
The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Marci Phillips, a freshman.” She said proudly. “Where is your son? Did he transfer to another school?” Excited murmurs and giggles suddenly exploded from the girls. Marci glanced around and laughed.
Mrs. McCauley placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled. “You mean Reece? He still goes here, he’s a sophomore now, he actually moved up a grade last year.” She shook her head with an amused expression. “His homeroom is room number 23, second floor.” The girls immediately broke out into squeals and shrieks that could shatter glass.
Dakota grimaced and rolled her eyes. Those girls need to get a life. She looked back to the principal.
Mrs. McCauley clasped her hands. “Alright, with that, you are dismissed. Don’t forget to collect your packets on the way out. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Dakota braced herself for the flow of students. She was swept out of her chair and corralled to the door in the current of teens. Struggling to at least get her bag on her shoulder, she stumbled and tripped toward the tables by the exit. Several boxes were lined up in a row and had bold capitalized letters on the front for easy identification. She drifted into the line that had the box with the “O” painted on the side.
A young, dark-haired man with tanned skin was standing by the doorway handing out packets. “Name, please?” He said, a showman’s smile painfully stretched from ear to ear.
Dakota shifted her bag to a more comfortable position. She looked down at the table and spoke softly. “Dakota O’Neill.”
“Dakota O’Neill,” He repeated, rummaging through the overstuffed envelopes. “Ah! Here you are!” He handed her a huge white envelope. “Thank you; stand over there, please. NEXT!”
Dakota moved to the spot where the man pointed and stood there, slightly unbalanced because of kids constantly bumping into her. She gingerly opened her envelope and looked inside. She pulled out the papers and studied them for a moment. Her class schedule was on one, along with her locker number, and personal information.
A feeling of dread washed over her as she thought about having to come here each and every day, all day long. Part of her felt sorry for the teens she would be having classes with. Why would they want to be around a “criminal”? Dakota knew that if she were normal, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a ragged, forlorn girl who was rumored to have dealt drugs, robbed a convenience store, and beat up little kids to the point of hospitalization. Nobody with any brains would do a crazy thing like hang around with her.
Her stomach starting to churn with anxiety, she clutched the papers to her chest and hurried out the door. She couldn’t stand to be in there anymore. There were too many people, too many judgmental stares. She trotted down the hallway and burst out of the doors. She gasped in a breath of deliciously fresh air; her stomach gradually calmed down. She found a bench nearby and collapsed on it, cradling her head in her hands. I hate my life.
She looked up and surveyed the school grounds. I can keep all of this from happening; nobody will notice that I’m gone, and by the time that they do, I’ll be out of the state. I’ve done it before.
She hung her head and sighed deeply. But what about after that? Get caught and be shipped off to some foreign foster home again?
Slumping down further, she sighed and rubbed her eyes. Going through three sets of foster parents, all of which didn’t want her, started to get hard after a while. The first set, the Williams, took Dakota in a month after she was caught stealing from a store. They loved her, or, at least they seemed to, and took care of her. She started to slip down on her grades because of others pushing her around at school. The Williams didn’t want to get too close to Dakota, so a year afterwards, when she turned thirteen, they gave her up.
Dakota ran her fingers through her hair shakily. The second family, the Warner’s, Dakota almost couldn’t bear to think about. They hated her, she knew it. Every time she said or did something wrong, either Mr. or Mrs. Warner would hit her. They had a son, Myles, who at the time was eleven, only two years younger than Dakota. They didn’t spare him either. They beat him just as hard as they beat Dakota, sometimes even harder. And she ran away without him, and never looked back.
She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat and looked back down at her papers; she didn’t want anybody to see her revealing tears. Nobody knew that she had betrayed a friend, possibly to his death. Nobody could know. She never even knew what became of Myles. When she told the foster system people the whole story, and showed them her bruises and cuts, they went to check it out, only to find the house vacant. They hadn’t believed her. She shook her head at herself. “What I wouldn’t do to go back and change everything.”
“Go back where and change what?”
Dakota jumped at the voice and whipped around, a deep scowl on her face. “Nothing. What’s it to you?” She instinctively retorted. A girl about her own age strolled around the bench to face her, her jet-black hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail. She looked down at Dakota; her brown eyes seemed to dance with laughter.
“Sorry if I scared you,” The girl said, pulling her purse up higher on her shoulder. “My friends say I have a tendency to do that.”
“Whatever.” Dakota murmured, casting her eyes downward, a little ashamed of the way she had reacted to the unfazed girl.
The girl sat down beside her. “You’re new to this school, aren’t you?”
Dakota nodded, still staring at the ground. There was no way that this girl would get her to talk; she was determined.
“Cool, you’ll like it here.” The girl sounded encouraged to keep talking. “What’s your name?”
Dakota looked up at her. “Dakota O’Neill.”
A comical look passed over the girl’s face and her eyes sparkled with accomplished satisfaction. “My Momma talks about you sometimes! You’re new to the Eagles Home, too.” She grinned, her white teeth shining against her ebony skin.
Dakota’s stomach did a flip. “How’d you know that?”
Charity’s grin grew broader. “My Momma runs the place. She pours her life into the home. You’ve met her, haven’t you? Serena Jenkins?”
The blood drained from Dakota’s face. Great. Just great. She thought of the tall woman who was just another glaring face at the home. She gave Charity a jerky nod of affirmation. “Yeah…I’ve met her, alright.
Charity turned toward the door. Dakota watched in silence. Charity turned expectantly and motioned for Dakota. “You’ll like my Momma, she’s great. She isn’t smothering or anything. Come on; let me give you a tour of the place so you don’t get lost tomorrow.” She bubbled.
Dakota blinked. This is going to be such a nightmare.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Creative Writing Randomness
Random writing that I had to do for a class. Enjoy!
“Aria.”
I could feel heat, the telltale fury, rushing through my cheeks and up my neck at the masculine voice that dared to utter my name. With a slight pause I forced myself to resume walking; it was only a few more steps to my car, where I could surely lose him before he provoked me to anger. The click of my heels increased in volume as I lengthened my strides.
“Hey, Aria?” The voice was timid, and sounded either hurt or slightly offended at my obvious choice to ignore him. “Aria, please wait up!”
That was it. I came to a halt, my last step causing my heel to clop loudly against the pavement. I inhaled the musty scent of the parking garage to keep from losing myself as I pivoted towards him.
“Why are you here?” I kept my tone calm and low, and put on an emotionless mask as my gaze settled on his copper-tinted hair. Even as I attempted to disconnect my sense of awareness from the upcoming conversation, I could feel his hesitation rippling in torrents of apprehension.
“Uh…I just-…”
“Spit it out, Ackerly, come on.” I tapped my foot, desperately playing the part of a bored teacher or an exasperated parent, anyone who was not me, and who was not emotionally compromised in this situation.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing, Aria.” The honesty dripped from his voice. Why did he have to make it so hard?
“Oh, I’m doing alright, just got out of a job interview,” I switched to my happy everything-is-going-fabulous voice, hoping it would satisfy his question.
His forehead crinkled slightly, directly below the hairline I’d forced myself to stare at. A sympathetic/hurt expression had just found itself on his face. I knew him too well; it was an unfortunate side effect of trusting him as my best friend for seven years of my life.
I shifted my purse back onto my right shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to get to the university, there’s a test I’ve got to study for and-…”
He suddenly put his hands on my shoulders, and put his face directly in front of mine, where my vision crossed paths with his eyes. The amiable green eyes that used to brighten my day. The same green eyes that I’d refused to look into for the past five months. The fury I had barely managed to keep down worked its way back up.
“I told you never to come near me again!” I knocked his hands away. “What are you really doing here? Waiting for the opportune moment?”
“Aria…” His voice cracked.
I compelled myself to look unfalteringly into his eyes. “Jason might not have been able to fight back, he might have believed that you would have eventually come for him,” My fists clenched at my sides. “But I know the truth.”
Hurt. It filled his horribly beautiful green eyes. But his voice grew stronger. “You never gave me a chance.”
“A chance?” A rather harsh laugh escaped from within me. “Funny I should offer you a chance when you refused Jason one by betraying him.”
“You know the truth, you just refuse to believe it.”
“You’re right, I do know the truth.”
He sighed and cast his gaze downward. “I wish you only believed it. Believed me.”
I shoved him backward. “How can I believe you? You killed my brother, Liam!” I shook with rage. “You let him die when he needed you the most!”
Liam looked back up, but was suddenly fixated on a point over my shoulder. His eyes grew wide and he shoved me behind a car, yelling instructions over the abrupt deafening sound of gunfire. I heard nothing of what he said. I only saw his deep, caring eyes as he drew his own gun, and ran out into the pandemonium.
“Aria.”
I could feel heat, the telltale fury, rushing through my cheeks and up my neck at the masculine voice that dared to utter my name. With a slight pause I forced myself to resume walking; it was only a few more steps to my car, where I could surely lose him before he provoked me to anger. The click of my heels increased in volume as I lengthened my strides.
“Hey, Aria?” The voice was timid, and sounded either hurt or slightly offended at my obvious choice to ignore him. “Aria, please wait up!”
That was it. I came to a halt, my last step causing my heel to clop loudly against the pavement. I inhaled the musty scent of the parking garage to keep from losing myself as I pivoted towards him.
“Why are you here?” I kept my tone calm and low, and put on an emotionless mask as my gaze settled on his copper-tinted hair. Even as I attempted to disconnect my sense of awareness from the upcoming conversation, I could feel his hesitation rippling in torrents of apprehension.
“Uh…I just-…”
“Spit it out, Ackerly, come on.” I tapped my foot, desperately playing the part of a bored teacher or an exasperated parent, anyone who was not me, and who was not emotionally compromised in this situation.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing, Aria.” The honesty dripped from his voice. Why did he have to make it so hard?
“Oh, I’m doing alright, just got out of a job interview,” I switched to my happy everything-is-going-fabulous voice, hoping it would satisfy his question.
His forehead crinkled slightly, directly below the hairline I’d forced myself to stare at. A sympathetic/hurt expression had just found itself on his face. I knew him too well; it was an unfortunate side effect of trusting him as my best friend for seven years of my life.
I shifted my purse back onto my right shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to get to the university, there’s a test I’ve got to study for and-…”
He suddenly put his hands on my shoulders, and put his face directly in front of mine, where my vision crossed paths with his eyes. The amiable green eyes that used to brighten my day. The same green eyes that I’d refused to look into for the past five months. The fury I had barely managed to keep down worked its way back up.
“I told you never to come near me again!” I knocked his hands away. “What are you really doing here? Waiting for the opportune moment?”
“Aria…” His voice cracked.
I compelled myself to look unfalteringly into his eyes. “Jason might not have been able to fight back, he might have believed that you would have eventually come for him,” My fists clenched at my sides. “But I know the truth.”
Hurt. It filled his horribly beautiful green eyes. But his voice grew stronger. “You never gave me a chance.”
“A chance?” A rather harsh laugh escaped from within me. “Funny I should offer you a chance when you refused Jason one by betraying him.”
“You know the truth, you just refuse to believe it.”
“You’re right, I do know the truth.”
He sighed and cast his gaze downward. “I wish you only believed it. Believed me.”
I shoved him backward. “How can I believe you? You killed my brother, Liam!” I shook with rage. “You let him die when he needed you the most!”
Liam looked back up, but was suddenly fixated on a point over my shoulder. His eyes grew wide and he shoved me behind a car, yelling instructions over the abrupt deafening sound of gunfire. I heard nothing of what he said. I only saw his deep, caring eyes as he drew his own gun, and ran out into the pandemonium.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Last Generation - Prologue
Okay peeps. Working title is "The Last Generation". Please note that I wrote this when I was younger, and have only tweaked it once or twice, so do consider it to be an extremely rough draft. Unfortunately, blogger does not allow me to indent the paragraphs, *pulls out hair in frustration* so...it is not very easy on the eyes to read. I do warn, as well, that the prologue is a tad bit depressing and not engaging or exciting in any manner at all. Haha. Just a warning. But I'll make you a deal, you post a comment, and I'll post another part of the story. *evil grin*
Prologue
A small girl trudged through the cold November evening; her chin was tucked to her chest and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets in an attempt to keep warm. She kneaded her stiff fingers against her thighs, trying to regain the feeling that was lost an hour ago. Every shiver that overcame her seemed not to hurt as much as before. Her breath, which a few hours ago came in big steamy puffs, now barely showed in the frosty air at all. She wearily kept her eyes glued to the white line on the edge of the road so she wouldn’t wind up lost in a forest somewhere…Until now, that was all she cared about; getting to a safe place where she wouldn’t be cold. But none of that seemed to matter anymore.
The girl was tired, cold, hungry. Images of the past few days vividly replayed themselves in her mind. Hallucinations riddled her sight as she stumbled over the asphalt. It felt like no more than a dream for her; a dream in which she wanted to leave immediately. She drifted in and out of consciousness, tripping and hitting the ground more than a few times. As much as she tried, she couldn’t even remember her name, or even where she lived. All she knew was the images were her worst nightmares reflected; and that those nightmares were real.
She blinked a few times and tried to clear her jumbled thoughts. She felt senseless; like she was in a different dimension than this. The ground beneath her feet felt like it was made entirely of cotton balls. She strained to get a breath and felt nothing pass through. Her legs were still moving, but she wasn’t intentionally putting one foot in front of the other. All she wanted to do now was fall asleep.
Her legs suddenly buckled under her, and she fell to her knees. She grunted out of habit, but didn’t feel any pain. So many thoughts flew though her mind, but none really made any sense to her. So many emotions had risen up in the past three days; that she remembered. But all she felt now was the compelling desire to close her frost-covered eyelids and shut the cold and the horrible images out.
The girl suddenly lifted her head, almost oblivious to the snow swirling around her. She tenderly pulled her hands free from the pockets of her jeans. A silver ring with an unnaturally green stone inlaid glinted as she transferred her hands to her jacket pocket. She gazed at the gray jacket that was two sizes too big for her, and didn’t really keep the wind out. Wrapping the insufficient garment tighter around herself she suppressed a shiver. The jacket had belonged to her 12 year-old brother, Chris.
She stared into the dark night, a small smile creeping onto her face. He was a good two inches taller than she, and even though he was only a year older, he looked like he was a grown man at times. His bleach blonde hair, just like hers, would’ve matched the color of the little bit of snow layering the ground. His gray eyes, also identical to hers, would be scanning the night for any dangers. She had looked up to him when things were hard, when she couldn’t do it on her own. She half-expected to feel his warm hand on her arm prompting her to stand up and keep going.
But he wasn’t there.
“Chris....” The name left her lips with sadness; she didn’t want to accept it, but she knew what the reality was. She rocked back and forth, that numbing feeling of shock that she had suppressed for three days finally coming to the surface. She forced herself to look up. She willed her heart to forget the past and to push back the oncoming flow of tears. He wasn’t coming back. None of them were. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she hardened herself with the fact of reality. Her thoughts were much clearer now. They’re not coming back.
Grief flooded her thoughts, which slowly gave way to confused anger. Anger directed at herself. She had to move on. Nothing would ever change what happened. She would literally break down if she had to think about them every single day for the rest of her life. The fury rose in her heart, she bit her lip so hard it hurt. Did I do it? Are they gone because of me? Rage pulsed through her body; she could feel the blood rise to her face. She didn’t understand. Balling her fist, she drew her arm back and with a deeply pained yell, drove her hand forward and struck the road. It really was me, wasn’t it? I really did it.
Pain shot up her arm and tingled throughout her body. Blood appeared on her skinned knuckles. She panted heavily and forced herself to calm down. Hitting something had worked; it got her mind off of everything and the pain seemed to absorb her grief and anger. She didn’t know what hurt the most; her hand or her heart. She just didn’t understand.
I’m alone…And it’s my own fault, isn’t it? Her breathing came in a slow, deep pattern. Am I a criminal then? She hugged herself hard. I killed them.
Once again she steeled herself against the emotions that fought to show themselves; once again she tried on the expressionless mask for size. She decided it was better not to think about it. Shaking everything off, she narrowed her eyes, trying to get a glimpse through the white nothingness that lay before her. A small convenience store stood no more than one hundred yards in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat, one part of her was excited over the fact that she found shelter; the other part was reluctant to show her face anywhere.
The girl glanced behind her; a tsunami of swirling snow and sleet rose above her head. Shivering violently, she turned around and hurried for the small building. It bore the likeness of an old log cabin, the sign above the door welcomed customers to the Bear’s Lair gift shop. The girl reached the entry and desperately pushed the door open. A rush of warmth flowed over her limbs and torso; the heat emanating from the blaze in the fireplace seemed to instantly thaw her frozen face.
She relaxed at the sensation of the heat on her frozen skin. She moved closer to the flames and sat in a hardwood chair to bask in the fire’s warming light. After a few lazy moments of drifting in and out of sleep, she peeled off her brother’s wet gray jacket and tossed it to the bare tile floor below her. Her left hand and arm started to dully throb. The girl groaned softly at the pain and lifted her arm to examine the abrasions and bruises that she was too upset to care about earlier.
Her knuckles on her left hand were skinless and oozing from where she had literally grinded the top of her fist into the loose gravel; what was left of the skin around it was turning a shade of purplish-blue. She grimaced as she attempted to flex her hand and her wrist. Her wrist was beginning to swell and ache. She gritted her teeth and favored her arm. I must have broken something.
Making sure she didn’t jar her wrist or fingers, she carefully pulled the wet jacket back over her head and tucked her injured arm into the pocket in front. Looking up around the small shop, she scanned for any people that may have been attending the front counter. She hadn’t even bothered to check to see if the store was occupied when she first stumbled in. Nobody could be seen behind the counter or even in the aisles. The young girl shrugged the oversized jacket back onto her shoulders and started toward the front of the store.
A lukewarm hotdog with onions and mustard piled on it sat by the cash register; a chili-smeared napkin had been tossed next to it. The girl’s gaze fell to a partially melted slushie. She shivered at the thought of ingesting anything below room temperature on a night like this. She peeked around the corner and saw no one. Convinced that whoever was attending the store was elsewhere, she sighed and turned to observe the small shop that was built to accommodate passing travelers.
Her stomach growled provocatively as her eyes settled on an aisle that was stocked with chips and canned food. She shook her head as if the gesture would silence her tummy. She didn’t have any money with her, nothing at all. She quickly looked away from the food and inspected the rest of the store. Her arm was hurting more than ever and she found it hard to concentrate on anything but. By moving it around, the abrasions had begun to bleed again. She needed to get it wrapped up and find something to brace her wrist.
She pivoted and looked at the aisle across from her. Medical supplies like gauze, bandages, antibacterial cream, and temporary splints lined the shelves. She stared at them for a moment, looked toward the counter, than looked back. There was no question about it; she needed the med supplies and food. She swallowed hard and glanced over her shoulder at the food. I can’t just take it; I don’t have the money to buy it. That wouldn’t be right…
She closed her eyes and waited for a fierce wave of nausea to pass. The lack of food mixed with the pain was starting to make her sick. She needed to take care of her arm, but she couldn’t do that without the proper supplies. She opened her eyes and looked down at her jacket. Blood was now starting to seep through the thick fabric. She looked back up at the ceiling as the urge to vomit suddenly hit her full force.
She sighed, resigning to her instinct to survive. Nobody would notice anything had been taken; even if they did, they could just buy two brand-new things for every one thing missing. She glimpsed at the counter again. Content that no one was near; she snatched a small backpack off of a display rack and unzipped it. Spurred on by the pain in her arm and the emptiness in her stomach, she started tossing various snacks and drinks into the sack. After she left the food aisle and headed to the med supplies, she fought back the onslaught of accusations her conscience threw at her.
I’m starving, this is okay. I really need this food and stuff for my hand and arm. She struggled to reassure herself that it wasn’t wrong. She knew for sure that if she waited around for the store owner that he would toss her out and refuse to give her any medical treatment or nourishment. She pictured an employee getting mad that she was in the store in the first place and kicking her back out into the harsh weather. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought. I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t deserve to be turned away. Anger rose in her as she shoved the guilt away.
Just as she stuffed the pack to the brim and pulled the zipper shut, a door shutting in the back alerted her to the presence of another person. The girl’s stomach did a flip. That would be the owner. She heaved the bag over her shoulder with her good arm. She hurried as quietly as she could out the front door, bolting when she saw the cashier return to his seat behind the counter. She ran until the building was nothing but a small glowing dot in the distance. She stopped and looked back. Heat rose to her face as she realized what she had just gotten away with. She again pushed the guilt away with anger toward the owner on what he might’ve done if he had seen her. She watched the distant store vanish in a flurry of snow. Her anger was replaced with temporary relief. She’d done it.
…And it hadn’t felt so bad.
The girl leaned comfortably against the edge of the doorway, casually observing the interior of the building. She was twelve now, almost a teenager. She had celebrated her birthday alone; to her it was more of a day of sorrow that was hard to endure. The girl sighed softly and stared at her feet. Only months had passed, yet it felt like years. The awful memories of the disaster had crashed back stronger than a tidal wave a few days after she had taken the food from the store. After three months, they still never stopped plaguing her sleep and penetrating her dreams. She had no control over the intense nightmares, often finding her clothes soaked with sweat or waking up screaming in terror; the dreams constantly reminding her that it was her fault.
The girl lifted her gaze, surveying the family who had just walked in. They had no idea who she was, or what she was about to do. She focused her eyes on a little boy trailing behind his mother. His attention was directed toward a beetle attempting to traverse safely across the tile floor. Her heart was momentarily lifted at the sight of the toddler; but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The kid’s mother hastily took his hand and shot a suspicious look at the girl. Her spirit felt like it had been shot down by that glare of silent accusation. But she knew she deserved it. In spite, she frowned and glowered boldly. She straightened and watched the family file out the door after they purchased their goods. They don’t know what I endure, she thought harshly. And they have no business knowing, either.
She scowled and looked down at her watch that she had recently acquired. She had traveled a long way since that one night. She was somewhere in southwest Iowa in a town called Sidney, from what she gathered from the chatter between customers. Every day she walked, not sure of where she would go, only sure that she wanted to be as far away from her home as possible. She somehow managed to avoid the watchful eye of policemen wondering why she was so dirty and worn and to run from those who were curious as to why she wasn’t in school.
Many times during the long days she thought about her home in Minnesota. She had always been intrigued with fire, with its numerous colors and hues dancing together, never missing a beat. She appreciated its beauty even from an early age. Her fascination, however, had abruptly ceased when the day came that the flames she had admired for so long turned on her. Recollections of running from the blazes that snatched at her body mercilessly pounded on her recent dreams. Her beloved flames had consumed her home and her family that horrible day three months ago.
The girl came back to the present as a group of teens pushed their way through the doorway with their sacks full of pop and snacks. She watched them as they piled into a broken-down car and drove away. Turning, she scanned the empty room in front of her. Footsteps indicated that the clerk was in the back room, attending to things other than the checkout counter. An uneasy smile crept onto her face. It was the first time she’d attempted to lift some money.
She glanced at the security camera constantly sweeping its ever-watchful stare across the area. She paused at a rack that held breath mints and candy, watching the camera out of the corner of her eye. Right when it had her out of its sights, she jumped over the counter and waited patiently for it to pass over again. Counting to eight seconds under her breath, she reached up to the cash register precisely when she calculated that the camera would be turned away. She continued counting as she fumbled for the button to release the drawer and yanked her hand back as the camera rotated back toward her. Mentally kicking herself for taking up so much time, she finally hit the release button, a pang of excitement rushing over her as she grasped the bills in her right hand.
Without warning, an icy cold hand grasped the girl’s shoulder, causing her to gasp and jerk back. A tiny yelp escaped from her lips as she saw a narrow-eyed young man standing directly above her, scowling at the fistful of money she had snatched out of the register. She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next. A rush of guilt overcame the boldness in her as she switched her gaze to the money in her hand, than back to the man. The girl tensed all of her muscles in order to fight the growing bulge in her throat that threatened to free a flood of tears. She could feel blood pounding through her head with every shaky breath she took. She’d been caught.
She hastily dropped the money from her hand, involuntary trembles coursing through her entire body. She watched the man as his gaze softened when he saw how afraid she was. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. What do I do now? The man cleared his throat. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
The girl opened her eyes in surprise at the softness in the man’s voice. She quickly shrugged and looked at a chewed up piece of gum on the floor. “D-Dakota,” Her voice quivered. “Dakota O’Neill.” Her heart jumped into her throat when she realized that she probably shouldn’t have given her name.
“Why are you here, Dakota?” The young man put a finger under her chin and lifted it up to meet his gaze. “Don’t you have any money?”
Dakota blinked and shook her head slowly. She wasn’t planning on telling him her whole story. She didn’t want any sympathy, or help. She narrowed her eyes. She was determined to survive…alone.
The man, whose name tag said Sam, thoughtfully watched Dakota for a moment. Sam sighed and kneaded his forehead with his free hand. Brown hair fell out of his hat in a mess of curls. “Do you have any family around? Do you know your phone number, your address…anything?”
She said nothing and stared at the wall behind him. Why do you care?
The wailing of sirens sounded outside of the building and grew louder. Dakota started at the noise and shot a frantic look at Sam. She craned her neck to try to see above the counter, but sunk back to the floor with a sick feeling in her stomach.
Sam got to his feet and pulled her up by the arm, giving her no choice but to face the policemen. With a firm hold on her arm, Sam guided her to the door. “I pressed the silent alarm when I heard the register pop open. I had no idea it would be a girl as tiny as you. I don’t know what they’ll do with you; chances are they’ll see that you make it safely home and give you a court date. I doubt you’re getting off the hook, though; whether you’re grounded by your parents or jailed by the law.”
Dakota’s stomach churned at the words, and she fought back tears. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to me? She watched the policeman and his huge German Shepherd exit the car. I was fine by myself, I didn’t hurt anyone… She gulped at the size of the German Shepherd. What are they gonna do to me?
Sam pushed the door open and presented Dakota to the policeman. “Good afternoon, officer.”
The officer nodded in greeting. “What can I do for you today, sir?”
Sam released Dakota’s arm and motioned for the officer to come. He looked at Dakota. “Stay here where I can see you.” Dakota nodded and crossed her arms tightly against her abdomen.
The two walked a few feet away and spoke in hushed tones. Several times, Sam pointed and Dakota and nodded or shook his head. Dakota quietly watched them, her gaze falling to the dog standing faithfully beside the policeman more than once. The massive dog stared at her with dark eyes. His muscles flexed in his powerful legs, as if he were about to pounce on her. Dakota was almost afraid to move.
But she didn’t let that stop her.
She inched along the wall and peered around the corner of the building, seeing a forest only twenty yards away. Adrenaline burst into her system. She turned her head back to the men, who were partially turned away from her.. She took a deep breath. I can do this. She looked back at the dog, who still had her in his gaze. Taking silent steps, she casually crept around the corner and made her way along the building.
So far, so good… She was almost to the end of the store now. She quickened her pace and lengthened her strides, being as noiseless as possible. The dog must’ve thought she was just another person, and not a criminal. Relief flooded over her and glee threw a smile on her face as she raised her pace to a jog, then to a full-out run. The wind whipped her long, almost-white hair from her face, her wavy tresses flying like a banner behind her. Freedom was only a few steps ahead.
Dakota’s stomach squeezed tight when she heard surprised shouts and a bark from behind her. Suddenly terrified, she pounded her legs harder, trying to urge her muscles to carry her faster. She was so close to the trees; she couldn’t get caught now! Dakota dared once to look back, and immediately regretted it. The huge German Shepherd had just turned the corner of the building and was followed by the policeman. Dakota kicked the speed up a notch, imagining herself as a blur zipping across the field to her safety.
With a loud grunt, Dakota leapt into the brush and rolled to a stop on the other side. She blinked to give her eyes some adjustment to the darkness and pushed herself to her feet; she couldn’t stop. She gasped for air as she sprinted through the trees. Flinching at every shout and bark made behind her, she didn’t bother to be quiet. Fear spurred her to go faster. A groan escaped from her lips as a searing pain shot through her side. She couldn’t breathe without the pain reeling through her lungs, and with every wheezing breath she took, her speed decreased. She closed her eyes for a second, wondering if she would’ve been better off staying where she was, safe from the wrath of the policeman. Now she was being pursued by a dog that may kill her if he ever caught up. She wished she’d thought of that before she had taken off.
She suddenly caught her foot on a rock, causing her to pitch forward to the ground. Her head reeled with confusion as she tumbled down a rock-strewn slope. Pain registered in her left lower ribs as she hit something dense with a degree of momentum, causing her to cry out pitifully. After what felt like too long, she rolled to a stop on flat ground.
Unable to move, she lay there silently for what seemed like an eternity, not bothering to fight the tears back anymore. It hurt, and right then she didn’t care about what anyone thought of her crying. With a short, desperate gasp, she struggled to keep herself calm. She actually wanted the policeman to find her now. She was tired, in pain. She thought back to that night when it was snowing…when there seemed to be no hope. All she wanted then was relief, rest.
Why can’t my life go back to normal? I was safe. She closed her eyes slowly and rested her cheek on the ground. One last tear rolled off of the tip of her nose and into the dirt below. She felt her conscious mind drifting away from her body. I want my family back…
Prologue
A small girl trudged through the cold November evening; her chin was tucked to her chest and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets in an attempt to keep warm. She kneaded her stiff fingers against her thighs, trying to regain the feeling that was lost an hour ago. Every shiver that overcame her seemed not to hurt as much as before. Her breath, which a few hours ago came in big steamy puffs, now barely showed in the frosty air at all. She wearily kept her eyes glued to the white line on the edge of the road so she wouldn’t wind up lost in a forest somewhere…Until now, that was all she cared about; getting to a safe place where she wouldn’t be cold. But none of that seemed to matter anymore.
The girl was tired, cold, hungry. Images of the past few days vividly replayed themselves in her mind. Hallucinations riddled her sight as she stumbled over the asphalt. It felt like no more than a dream for her; a dream in which she wanted to leave immediately. She drifted in and out of consciousness, tripping and hitting the ground more than a few times. As much as she tried, she couldn’t even remember her name, or even where she lived. All she knew was the images were her worst nightmares reflected; and that those nightmares were real.
She blinked a few times and tried to clear her jumbled thoughts. She felt senseless; like she was in a different dimension than this. The ground beneath her feet felt like it was made entirely of cotton balls. She strained to get a breath and felt nothing pass through. Her legs were still moving, but she wasn’t intentionally putting one foot in front of the other. All she wanted to do now was fall asleep.
Her legs suddenly buckled under her, and she fell to her knees. She grunted out of habit, but didn’t feel any pain. So many thoughts flew though her mind, but none really made any sense to her. So many emotions had risen up in the past three days; that she remembered. But all she felt now was the compelling desire to close her frost-covered eyelids and shut the cold and the horrible images out.
The girl suddenly lifted her head, almost oblivious to the snow swirling around her. She tenderly pulled her hands free from the pockets of her jeans. A silver ring with an unnaturally green stone inlaid glinted as she transferred her hands to her jacket pocket. She gazed at the gray jacket that was two sizes too big for her, and didn’t really keep the wind out. Wrapping the insufficient garment tighter around herself she suppressed a shiver. The jacket had belonged to her 12 year-old brother, Chris.
She stared into the dark night, a small smile creeping onto her face. He was a good two inches taller than she, and even though he was only a year older, he looked like he was a grown man at times. His bleach blonde hair, just like hers, would’ve matched the color of the little bit of snow layering the ground. His gray eyes, also identical to hers, would be scanning the night for any dangers. She had looked up to him when things were hard, when she couldn’t do it on her own. She half-expected to feel his warm hand on her arm prompting her to stand up and keep going.
But he wasn’t there.
“Chris....” The name left her lips with sadness; she didn’t want to accept it, but she knew what the reality was. She rocked back and forth, that numbing feeling of shock that she had suppressed for three days finally coming to the surface. She forced herself to look up. She willed her heart to forget the past and to push back the oncoming flow of tears. He wasn’t coming back. None of them were. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she hardened herself with the fact of reality. Her thoughts were much clearer now. They’re not coming back.
Grief flooded her thoughts, which slowly gave way to confused anger. Anger directed at herself. She had to move on. Nothing would ever change what happened. She would literally break down if she had to think about them every single day for the rest of her life. The fury rose in her heart, she bit her lip so hard it hurt. Did I do it? Are they gone because of me? Rage pulsed through her body; she could feel the blood rise to her face. She didn’t understand. Balling her fist, she drew her arm back and with a deeply pained yell, drove her hand forward and struck the road. It really was me, wasn’t it? I really did it.
Pain shot up her arm and tingled throughout her body. Blood appeared on her skinned knuckles. She panted heavily and forced herself to calm down. Hitting something had worked; it got her mind off of everything and the pain seemed to absorb her grief and anger. She didn’t know what hurt the most; her hand or her heart. She just didn’t understand.
I’m alone…And it’s my own fault, isn’t it? Her breathing came in a slow, deep pattern. Am I a criminal then? She hugged herself hard. I killed them.
Once again she steeled herself against the emotions that fought to show themselves; once again she tried on the expressionless mask for size. She decided it was better not to think about it. Shaking everything off, she narrowed her eyes, trying to get a glimpse through the white nothingness that lay before her. A small convenience store stood no more than one hundred yards in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat, one part of her was excited over the fact that she found shelter; the other part was reluctant to show her face anywhere.
The girl glanced behind her; a tsunami of swirling snow and sleet rose above her head. Shivering violently, she turned around and hurried for the small building. It bore the likeness of an old log cabin, the sign above the door welcomed customers to the Bear’s Lair gift shop. The girl reached the entry and desperately pushed the door open. A rush of warmth flowed over her limbs and torso; the heat emanating from the blaze in the fireplace seemed to instantly thaw her frozen face.
She relaxed at the sensation of the heat on her frozen skin. She moved closer to the flames and sat in a hardwood chair to bask in the fire’s warming light. After a few lazy moments of drifting in and out of sleep, she peeled off her brother’s wet gray jacket and tossed it to the bare tile floor below her. Her left hand and arm started to dully throb. The girl groaned softly at the pain and lifted her arm to examine the abrasions and bruises that she was too upset to care about earlier.
Her knuckles on her left hand were skinless and oozing from where she had literally grinded the top of her fist into the loose gravel; what was left of the skin around it was turning a shade of purplish-blue. She grimaced as she attempted to flex her hand and her wrist. Her wrist was beginning to swell and ache. She gritted her teeth and favored her arm. I must have broken something.
Making sure she didn’t jar her wrist or fingers, she carefully pulled the wet jacket back over her head and tucked her injured arm into the pocket in front. Looking up around the small shop, she scanned for any people that may have been attending the front counter. She hadn’t even bothered to check to see if the store was occupied when she first stumbled in. Nobody could be seen behind the counter or even in the aisles. The young girl shrugged the oversized jacket back onto her shoulders and started toward the front of the store.
A lukewarm hotdog with onions and mustard piled on it sat by the cash register; a chili-smeared napkin had been tossed next to it. The girl’s gaze fell to a partially melted slushie. She shivered at the thought of ingesting anything below room temperature on a night like this. She peeked around the corner and saw no one. Convinced that whoever was attending the store was elsewhere, she sighed and turned to observe the small shop that was built to accommodate passing travelers.
Her stomach growled provocatively as her eyes settled on an aisle that was stocked with chips and canned food. She shook her head as if the gesture would silence her tummy. She didn’t have any money with her, nothing at all. She quickly looked away from the food and inspected the rest of the store. Her arm was hurting more than ever and she found it hard to concentrate on anything but. By moving it around, the abrasions had begun to bleed again. She needed to get it wrapped up and find something to brace her wrist.
She pivoted and looked at the aisle across from her. Medical supplies like gauze, bandages, antibacterial cream, and temporary splints lined the shelves. She stared at them for a moment, looked toward the counter, than looked back. There was no question about it; she needed the med supplies and food. She swallowed hard and glanced over her shoulder at the food. I can’t just take it; I don’t have the money to buy it. That wouldn’t be right…
She closed her eyes and waited for a fierce wave of nausea to pass. The lack of food mixed with the pain was starting to make her sick. She needed to take care of her arm, but she couldn’t do that without the proper supplies. She opened her eyes and looked down at her jacket. Blood was now starting to seep through the thick fabric. She looked back up at the ceiling as the urge to vomit suddenly hit her full force.
She sighed, resigning to her instinct to survive. Nobody would notice anything had been taken; even if they did, they could just buy two brand-new things for every one thing missing. She glimpsed at the counter again. Content that no one was near; she snatched a small backpack off of a display rack and unzipped it. Spurred on by the pain in her arm and the emptiness in her stomach, she started tossing various snacks and drinks into the sack. After she left the food aisle and headed to the med supplies, she fought back the onslaught of accusations her conscience threw at her.
I’m starving, this is okay. I really need this food and stuff for my hand and arm. She struggled to reassure herself that it wasn’t wrong. She knew for sure that if she waited around for the store owner that he would toss her out and refuse to give her any medical treatment or nourishment. She pictured an employee getting mad that she was in the store in the first place and kicking her back out into the harsh weather. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought. I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t deserve to be turned away. Anger rose in her as she shoved the guilt away.
Just as she stuffed the pack to the brim and pulled the zipper shut, a door shutting in the back alerted her to the presence of another person. The girl’s stomach did a flip. That would be the owner. She heaved the bag over her shoulder with her good arm. She hurried as quietly as she could out the front door, bolting when she saw the cashier return to his seat behind the counter. She ran until the building was nothing but a small glowing dot in the distance. She stopped and looked back. Heat rose to her face as she realized what she had just gotten away with. She again pushed the guilt away with anger toward the owner on what he might’ve done if he had seen her. She watched the distant store vanish in a flurry of snow. Her anger was replaced with temporary relief. She’d done it.
…And it hadn’t felt so bad.
The girl leaned comfortably against the edge of the doorway, casually observing the interior of the building. She was twelve now, almost a teenager. She had celebrated her birthday alone; to her it was more of a day of sorrow that was hard to endure. The girl sighed softly and stared at her feet. Only months had passed, yet it felt like years. The awful memories of the disaster had crashed back stronger than a tidal wave a few days after she had taken the food from the store. After three months, they still never stopped plaguing her sleep and penetrating her dreams. She had no control over the intense nightmares, often finding her clothes soaked with sweat or waking up screaming in terror; the dreams constantly reminding her that it was her fault.
The girl lifted her gaze, surveying the family who had just walked in. They had no idea who she was, or what she was about to do. She focused her eyes on a little boy trailing behind his mother. His attention was directed toward a beetle attempting to traverse safely across the tile floor. Her heart was momentarily lifted at the sight of the toddler; but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The kid’s mother hastily took his hand and shot a suspicious look at the girl. Her spirit felt like it had been shot down by that glare of silent accusation. But she knew she deserved it. In spite, she frowned and glowered boldly. She straightened and watched the family file out the door after they purchased their goods. They don’t know what I endure, she thought harshly. And they have no business knowing, either.
She scowled and looked down at her watch that she had recently acquired. She had traveled a long way since that one night. She was somewhere in southwest Iowa in a town called Sidney, from what she gathered from the chatter between customers. Every day she walked, not sure of where she would go, only sure that she wanted to be as far away from her home as possible. She somehow managed to avoid the watchful eye of policemen wondering why she was so dirty and worn and to run from those who were curious as to why she wasn’t in school.
Many times during the long days she thought about her home in Minnesota. She had always been intrigued with fire, with its numerous colors and hues dancing together, never missing a beat. She appreciated its beauty even from an early age. Her fascination, however, had abruptly ceased when the day came that the flames she had admired for so long turned on her. Recollections of running from the blazes that snatched at her body mercilessly pounded on her recent dreams. Her beloved flames had consumed her home and her family that horrible day three months ago.
The girl came back to the present as a group of teens pushed their way through the doorway with their sacks full of pop and snacks. She watched them as they piled into a broken-down car and drove away. Turning, she scanned the empty room in front of her. Footsteps indicated that the clerk was in the back room, attending to things other than the checkout counter. An uneasy smile crept onto her face. It was the first time she’d attempted to lift some money.
She glanced at the security camera constantly sweeping its ever-watchful stare across the area. She paused at a rack that held breath mints and candy, watching the camera out of the corner of her eye. Right when it had her out of its sights, she jumped over the counter and waited patiently for it to pass over again. Counting to eight seconds under her breath, she reached up to the cash register precisely when she calculated that the camera would be turned away. She continued counting as she fumbled for the button to release the drawer and yanked her hand back as the camera rotated back toward her. Mentally kicking herself for taking up so much time, she finally hit the release button, a pang of excitement rushing over her as she grasped the bills in her right hand.
Without warning, an icy cold hand grasped the girl’s shoulder, causing her to gasp and jerk back. A tiny yelp escaped from her lips as she saw a narrow-eyed young man standing directly above her, scowling at the fistful of money she had snatched out of the register. She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next. A rush of guilt overcame the boldness in her as she switched her gaze to the money in her hand, than back to the man. The girl tensed all of her muscles in order to fight the growing bulge in her throat that threatened to free a flood of tears. She could feel blood pounding through her head with every shaky breath she took. She’d been caught.
She hastily dropped the money from her hand, involuntary trembles coursing through her entire body. She watched the man as his gaze softened when he saw how afraid she was. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. What do I do now? The man cleared his throat. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
The girl opened her eyes in surprise at the softness in the man’s voice. She quickly shrugged and looked at a chewed up piece of gum on the floor. “D-Dakota,” Her voice quivered. “Dakota O’Neill.” Her heart jumped into her throat when she realized that she probably shouldn’t have given her name.
“Why are you here, Dakota?” The young man put a finger under her chin and lifted it up to meet his gaze. “Don’t you have any money?”
Dakota blinked and shook her head slowly. She wasn’t planning on telling him her whole story. She didn’t want any sympathy, or help. She narrowed her eyes. She was determined to survive…alone.
The man, whose name tag said Sam, thoughtfully watched Dakota for a moment. Sam sighed and kneaded his forehead with his free hand. Brown hair fell out of his hat in a mess of curls. “Do you have any family around? Do you know your phone number, your address…anything?”
She said nothing and stared at the wall behind him. Why do you care?
The wailing of sirens sounded outside of the building and grew louder. Dakota started at the noise and shot a frantic look at Sam. She craned her neck to try to see above the counter, but sunk back to the floor with a sick feeling in her stomach.
Sam got to his feet and pulled her up by the arm, giving her no choice but to face the policemen. With a firm hold on her arm, Sam guided her to the door. “I pressed the silent alarm when I heard the register pop open. I had no idea it would be a girl as tiny as you. I don’t know what they’ll do with you; chances are they’ll see that you make it safely home and give you a court date. I doubt you’re getting off the hook, though; whether you’re grounded by your parents or jailed by the law.”
Dakota’s stomach churned at the words, and she fought back tears. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to me? She watched the policeman and his huge German Shepherd exit the car. I was fine by myself, I didn’t hurt anyone… She gulped at the size of the German Shepherd. What are they gonna do to me?
Sam pushed the door open and presented Dakota to the policeman. “Good afternoon, officer.”
The officer nodded in greeting. “What can I do for you today, sir?”
Sam released Dakota’s arm and motioned for the officer to come. He looked at Dakota. “Stay here where I can see you.” Dakota nodded and crossed her arms tightly against her abdomen.
The two walked a few feet away and spoke in hushed tones. Several times, Sam pointed and Dakota and nodded or shook his head. Dakota quietly watched them, her gaze falling to the dog standing faithfully beside the policeman more than once. The massive dog stared at her with dark eyes. His muscles flexed in his powerful legs, as if he were about to pounce on her. Dakota was almost afraid to move.
But she didn’t let that stop her.
She inched along the wall and peered around the corner of the building, seeing a forest only twenty yards away. Adrenaline burst into her system. She turned her head back to the men, who were partially turned away from her.. She took a deep breath. I can do this. She looked back at the dog, who still had her in his gaze. Taking silent steps, she casually crept around the corner and made her way along the building.
So far, so good… She was almost to the end of the store now. She quickened her pace and lengthened her strides, being as noiseless as possible. The dog must’ve thought she was just another person, and not a criminal. Relief flooded over her and glee threw a smile on her face as she raised her pace to a jog, then to a full-out run. The wind whipped her long, almost-white hair from her face, her wavy tresses flying like a banner behind her. Freedom was only a few steps ahead.
Dakota’s stomach squeezed tight when she heard surprised shouts and a bark from behind her. Suddenly terrified, she pounded her legs harder, trying to urge her muscles to carry her faster. She was so close to the trees; she couldn’t get caught now! Dakota dared once to look back, and immediately regretted it. The huge German Shepherd had just turned the corner of the building and was followed by the policeman. Dakota kicked the speed up a notch, imagining herself as a blur zipping across the field to her safety.
With a loud grunt, Dakota leapt into the brush and rolled to a stop on the other side. She blinked to give her eyes some adjustment to the darkness and pushed herself to her feet; she couldn’t stop. She gasped for air as she sprinted through the trees. Flinching at every shout and bark made behind her, she didn’t bother to be quiet. Fear spurred her to go faster. A groan escaped from her lips as a searing pain shot through her side. She couldn’t breathe without the pain reeling through her lungs, and with every wheezing breath she took, her speed decreased. She closed her eyes for a second, wondering if she would’ve been better off staying where she was, safe from the wrath of the policeman. Now she was being pursued by a dog that may kill her if he ever caught up. She wished she’d thought of that before she had taken off.
She suddenly caught her foot on a rock, causing her to pitch forward to the ground. Her head reeled with confusion as she tumbled down a rock-strewn slope. Pain registered in her left lower ribs as she hit something dense with a degree of momentum, causing her to cry out pitifully. After what felt like too long, she rolled to a stop on flat ground.
Unable to move, she lay there silently for what seemed like an eternity, not bothering to fight the tears back anymore. It hurt, and right then she didn’t care about what anyone thought of her crying. With a short, desperate gasp, she struggled to keep herself calm. She actually wanted the policeman to find her now. She was tired, in pain. She thought back to that night when it was snowing…when there seemed to be no hope. All she wanted then was relief, rest.
Why can’t my life go back to normal? I was safe. She closed her eyes slowly and rested her cheek on the ground. One last tear rolled off of the tip of her nose and into the dirt below. She felt her conscious mind drifting away from her body. I want my family back…
Monday, June 6, 2011
Stories...
Because of my innate laziness, I do not particulary feel like going all the way through my previous posts, so, if anyone would please respond, I do have a question regarding my stories.
(My mind is speaking in a British accent tonight, so bear with the formal speech, if you please.)
I know for sure that I have posted one of my stories (at least, all that I have written of it) on this blog. It is entitled "Guardian". There is a story I am currently working on (have been for the past few years, heh) that I believe some of you have read, and some of you have not. It involves a main character by the name of Dakota O'Neill. It is, as of now, untitled.
Remember?
Good.
So, then, shall I post that story on this blog? It will be as "Guardian" is, the older posts will contain the beginning of the story, and the newer the posts, the chapters start to ascend in numbers, ect. So, if you're reading the blog from the newest posts to the older, then the story will seem to be backwards (this drives me up a tree, because I simply cannot find a solution for it!).
Alright, then. Shall I? Cast your votes on the comment bar, please. :-)
(My mind is speaking in a British accent tonight, so bear with the formal speech, if you please.)
I know for sure that I have posted one of my stories (at least, all that I have written of it) on this blog. It is entitled "Guardian". There is a story I am currently working on (have been for the past few years, heh) that I believe some of you have read, and some of you have not. It involves a main character by the name of Dakota O'Neill. It is, as of now, untitled.
Remember?
Good.
So, then, shall I post that story on this blog? It will be as "Guardian" is, the older posts will contain the beginning of the story, and the newer the posts, the chapters start to ascend in numbers, ect. So, if you're reading the blog from the newest posts to the older, then the story will seem to be backwards (this drives me up a tree, because I simply cannot find a solution for it!).
Alright, then. Shall I? Cast your votes on the comment bar, please. :-)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Guardian - Chapter 1 - Part 1
There are always the stories of lonely teenage girls who dream fancifully of having someone in their life that mean something to them, that complete them. Some turn out to be stories of delightful romance, of the breathtaking love that develops. Some, however, are of horror, tales of relationships that end abruptly or don’t happen at all. Either way, they usually end up with the attention-hungry girl flinging herself without a single consideration into the guy’s path, determined to catch his eye. All of the stories reveal something about the girl in the end, whether or not she is meant for someone, or if she is meant to be alone in this lifetime.
My story is drastically different, though not totally unfamiliar.
I was nearing the end of my sophomore year, where it was a race to cram for finals, schedule dates to take the ACT and SAT, and make plans for summer vacation. My life was bustling with activity, yet was pretty slow-paced when compared with some of my classmates. I didn’t have too many friends. There was my lifelong friend, Chandler Gates, with whom I shared my feelings and frustrations, and Gallagher Harmon, the guy who was able to get my mind off of anything. Together, they kept my life from whirling out of control. I actually felt pretty guilty sometimes that I didn’t tell them everything about me, the things about myself that I felt only I would understand. But then, we all have our own secrets, don’t we?
“Aria!”
I glanced up long enough from my cell phone to see Chandler hurtling her way through the flow of students pushing and shoving through the locker-lined hallway and out the door. Everyone was brutal and showed no mercy on the second to last day of school. The angst of the crowd seemed to overflow in an explosion of noise that was ten times louder than usual. I shook my head and closed the Easy Schedule app on my phone. I smiled at the disapproval scrawled all over Chandler’s face when one of the guys let out a wild yell as he barreled his way past her. I couldn’t say that I leaned to one side or the other; I wasn’t loudly declaring my independence or glaring at those who were, I was just kind of there. Just neutral.
Chandler latched onto my arm and pulled us out of the flow. “Aria Ryman, what’s up with you? You’ve been in another world like the whole day today. I mean, you’ve been like this before, but you’ve never done it for this long.” She narrowed her blue eyes and snapped her fingers in front of my nose. “Wake up!”
I blinked slowly, suddenly recognizing the fog I seemed to be in. I shook my head. “Chan, there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just a little tired, I guess.”
“A little tired? High on something is more like it. You look like you’re stoned.”
I rolled my eyes. “Chan, that is so not it. Stop letting your vivid imagination run laps around the truth.” I bit my tongue as soon as that statement left my mouth. I wasn’t exactly the right person to accuse someone of an overactive imagination when I had such a vast one myself, one that just might be the source of my problems.
Chandler pressed her lips together. “Okay, fine. I’ll let it slide and give you the benefit of the doubt. But I want you to know that I really hate seeing you like this. Your eyes are unfocused as if you’re dreaming while you’re awake. It scares me a little, okay?”
I sighed and squeezed the bridge of my nose. So it was showing more than I’d thought it would. Chandler was catching on fast, and soon I’d probably be forced to tell her. “I’m sorry, Chan. I’m just feeling a little strange today. More tired than usual, I guess you could say.” I shrugged and looked her straight in the eye, hoping she’d drop the subject.
She looked at me and sighed. “Okay, whatever. I still think something’s up, but I’ll stop bugging you about it. For now.” She turned around and disappeared into the river of teens flooding out of the building. I stared at the spot where she’d blended into the crowd for a few more moments, then turned back to my locker and gently leaned my forehead against it. My nightmare had begun.
I tossed my bag behind the chair in the entryway when I walked through my front door, where I ritually chucked it after school every day. My hand rose instantly to my forehead, massaging it unconsciously, a habit of mine that showed up whenever I was stressed. And to say that I was stressed at that moment, was to epitomize the understatement of the millennium.
I trudged up the stairs towards my room, replaying the images over and over in my mind. The colors, scents, textures. Everything was as vivid as if I’d lived it before. I’d felt pain, and weariness. I glanced at a sketch carelessly tossed on my desk that I’d made that morning after I woke up, attempting to capture a fleeting memory before it left. It was of a man, about 20 years old, staring back at me with vibrant green eyes. His gaze, even on paper and drawn in colored pencils, calmed me. The corner of my mouth lifted slightly.
I sighed and placed my hand over the drawing’s face, forcing myself to break away. He wasn’t real. Jayeden wasn’t real.
Throughout the whole day I had caught myself thinking about the images. I had had to convince myself a week before that everything, all of the memories of the adventures that had suddenly become rooted in my mind as fact, were nothing but manifestations of my dreams. My wild, whacked-out, vivid-beyond-all-reason, dreams. They had seemed so natural, so right and real, that for a while, I was getting confused as to which realm was my physical reality. But I had convinced myself. Dreams. That’s all they were. My everyday life was my reality.
I nodded to myself, as if solidifying my newfound belief. I fingered the sketch of Jayeden for a moment, then reluctantly grasped it, crumpling the rough paper in my hands. I stared at the ball of paper nestled in my hand. A heavy weight pressed itself upon my heart. I felt like I had just slapped my best friend in the face. I shook my head again, a little harder this time. He’s not real. Something felt very wrong. My hands were quivering. I took in a shaky breath, and defiantly shoved the paper in a candle jar on my dresser. I whipped out a box of matches from the drawer, struck one, and hurriedly tossed it into the jar. Grimacing as the flames grew and licked their way through the paper, I hugged my arms to my chest and tried not to cry.
He’s just a part of your imagination. He’s not real. He’s not real. I mentally chanted to myself, hoping somehow that the words would sink in and I would be back to my normal life. I blinked back tears. But was my life ever normal? I remembered back when I had only been ten years of age, when I first met him. I had been dreaming of a log cabin, with warm and welcoming scents and the feeling of home. I had stepped through the threshold to find him sitting at a table, carving a small animal out of wood. Slightly surprised to find a twenty-ish year-old man in my dream, I had paused at the doorway and watched him curiously.
It was just a dream. He’s not real. He’s not real.
After a few moments, the man with reddish-brown hair had looked up at me, surprise also registering on his face. A smile had replaced the astonishment almost immediately. He gestured for me to sit by him, to watch him work on his wooden sculpture. I had eagerly clambered on to the bench beside him to contently peer at his beautiful carving. He offered it to me so that I might get a better look, but when I reached for it to grasp it in my palm my hand passed right through, as if I were air. His handsome face recorded shock once more, this time, however, his smile took longer to arrive.
It never happened. He’s not real. He’s not real.
He had looked me directly in my eyes. “What is your name, little one?”
“Aria.” I said slowly, unsure if I should be letting him in on such important information.
The smile had come back; this time it crept in from the side of his mouth. He cocked his head a bit. “Aria. That’s a very pretty name. My name is Jayeden.”
I returned his grin with a shy one of my own. I looked at his carving. “What’cha doin’?”
“This?” He had held up the figurine. “This is a gift that I’m making for someone very special to me. I’ve been working on it for a long time now.”
“What is it going to be?” I asked curiously.
He frowned slightly at the figurine. “I honestly don’t know myself. You see, this carving will start taking its true form when the time draws near for me to present it to that person who holds a special place in my heart.”
“That’s silly.” I declared. “How can you keep carving it if you don’t know what it’s going to be?”
Jayeden chuckled. “There is a Hand that guides mine, Aria. Even when I don’t know what this carving is going to be, He knows. He has instructed me to keep carving, even if it is seemingly in vain, for one day I will be able to see the product of my diligence and faith.”
Thoroughly perplexed, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”
He had flicked his serious green eyes at me. “You will one day, Aria. Do not worry. I will help you to learn His ways.”
I stayed silent, watching him as he resumed his whittling. I had not had a clue as to what he was referring to, but I enjoyed his serene, calming presence, and that was all that mattered right then.
It was just a dream. He’s not real. He’s not real.
The paper in the jar burned.
My story is drastically different, though not totally unfamiliar.
I was nearing the end of my sophomore year, where it was a race to cram for finals, schedule dates to take the ACT and SAT, and make plans for summer vacation. My life was bustling with activity, yet was pretty slow-paced when compared with some of my classmates. I didn’t have too many friends. There was my lifelong friend, Chandler Gates, with whom I shared my feelings and frustrations, and Gallagher Harmon, the guy who was able to get my mind off of anything. Together, they kept my life from whirling out of control. I actually felt pretty guilty sometimes that I didn’t tell them everything about me, the things about myself that I felt only I would understand. But then, we all have our own secrets, don’t we?
“Aria!”
I glanced up long enough from my cell phone to see Chandler hurtling her way through the flow of students pushing and shoving through the locker-lined hallway and out the door. Everyone was brutal and showed no mercy on the second to last day of school. The angst of the crowd seemed to overflow in an explosion of noise that was ten times louder than usual. I shook my head and closed the Easy Schedule app on my phone. I smiled at the disapproval scrawled all over Chandler’s face when one of the guys let out a wild yell as he barreled his way past her. I couldn’t say that I leaned to one side or the other; I wasn’t loudly declaring my independence or glaring at those who were, I was just kind of there. Just neutral.
Chandler latched onto my arm and pulled us out of the flow. “Aria Ryman, what’s up with you? You’ve been in another world like the whole day today. I mean, you’ve been like this before, but you’ve never done it for this long.” She narrowed her blue eyes and snapped her fingers in front of my nose. “Wake up!”
I blinked slowly, suddenly recognizing the fog I seemed to be in. I shook my head. “Chan, there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just a little tired, I guess.”
“A little tired? High on something is more like it. You look like you’re stoned.”
I rolled my eyes. “Chan, that is so not it. Stop letting your vivid imagination run laps around the truth.” I bit my tongue as soon as that statement left my mouth. I wasn’t exactly the right person to accuse someone of an overactive imagination when I had such a vast one myself, one that just might be the source of my problems.
Chandler pressed her lips together. “Okay, fine. I’ll let it slide and give you the benefit of the doubt. But I want you to know that I really hate seeing you like this. Your eyes are unfocused as if you’re dreaming while you’re awake. It scares me a little, okay?”
I sighed and squeezed the bridge of my nose. So it was showing more than I’d thought it would. Chandler was catching on fast, and soon I’d probably be forced to tell her. “I’m sorry, Chan. I’m just feeling a little strange today. More tired than usual, I guess you could say.” I shrugged and looked her straight in the eye, hoping she’d drop the subject.
She looked at me and sighed. “Okay, whatever. I still think something’s up, but I’ll stop bugging you about it. For now.” She turned around and disappeared into the river of teens flooding out of the building. I stared at the spot where she’d blended into the crowd for a few more moments, then turned back to my locker and gently leaned my forehead against it. My nightmare had begun.
I tossed my bag behind the chair in the entryway when I walked through my front door, where I ritually chucked it after school every day. My hand rose instantly to my forehead, massaging it unconsciously, a habit of mine that showed up whenever I was stressed. And to say that I was stressed at that moment, was to epitomize the understatement of the millennium.
I trudged up the stairs towards my room, replaying the images over and over in my mind. The colors, scents, textures. Everything was as vivid as if I’d lived it before. I’d felt pain, and weariness. I glanced at a sketch carelessly tossed on my desk that I’d made that morning after I woke up, attempting to capture a fleeting memory before it left. It was of a man, about 20 years old, staring back at me with vibrant green eyes. His gaze, even on paper and drawn in colored pencils, calmed me. The corner of my mouth lifted slightly.
I sighed and placed my hand over the drawing’s face, forcing myself to break away. He wasn’t real. Jayeden wasn’t real.
Throughout the whole day I had caught myself thinking about the images. I had had to convince myself a week before that everything, all of the memories of the adventures that had suddenly become rooted in my mind as fact, were nothing but manifestations of my dreams. My wild, whacked-out, vivid-beyond-all-reason, dreams. They had seemed so natural, so right and real, that for a while, I was getting confused as to which realm was my physical reality. But I had convinced myself. Dreams. That’s all they were. My everyday life was my reality.
I nodded to myself, as if solidifying my newfound belief. I fingered the sketch of Jayeden for a moment, then reluctantly grasped it, crumpling the rough paper in my hands. I stared at the ball of paper nestled in my hand. A heavy weight pressed itself upon my heart. I felt like I had just slapped my best friend in the face. I shook my head again, a little harder this time. He’s not real. Something felt very wrong. My hands were quivering. I took in a shaky breath, and defiantly shoved the paper in a candle jar on my dresser. I whipped out a box of matches from the drawer, struck one, and hurriedly tossed it into the jar. Grimacing as the flames grew and licked their way through the paper, I hugged my arms to my chest and tried not to cry.
He’s just a part of your imagination. He’s not real. He’s not real. I mentally chanted to myself, hoping somehow that the words would sink in and I would be back to my normal life. I blinked back tears. But was my life ever normal? I remembered back when I had only been ten years of age, when I first met him. I had been dreaming of a log cabin, with warm and welcoming scents and the feeling of home. I had stepped through the threshold to find him sitting at a table, carving a small animal out of wood. Slightly surprised to find a twenty-ish year-old man in my dream, I had paused at the doorway and watched him curiously.
It was just a dream. He’s not real. He’s not real.
After a few moments, the man with reddish-brown hair had looked up at me, surprise also registering on his face. A smile had replaced the astonishment almost immediately. He gestured for me to sit by him, to watch him work on his wooden sculpture. I had eagerly clambered on to the bench beside him to contently peer at his beautiful carving. He offered it to me so that I might get a better look, but when I reached for it to grasp it in my palm my hand passed right through, as if I were air. His handsome face recorded shock once more, this time, however, his smile took longer to arrive.
It never happened. He’s not real. He’s not real.
He had looked me directly in my eyes. “What is your name, little one?”
“Aria.” I said slowly, unsure if I should be letting him in on such important information.
The smile had come back; this time it crept in from the side of his mouth. He cocked his head a bit. “Aria. That’s a very pretty name. My name is Jayeden.”
I returned his grin with a shy one of my own. I looked at his carving. “What’cha doin’?”
“This?” He had held up the figurine. “This is a gift that I’m making for someone very special to me. I’ve been working on it for a long time now.”
“What is it going to be?” I asked curiously.
He frowned slightly at the figurine. “I honestly don’t know myself. You see, this carving will start taking its true form when the time draws near for me to present it to that person who holds a special place in my heart.”
“That’s silly.” I declared. “How can you keep carving it if you don’t know what it’s going to be?”
Jayeden chuckled. “There is a Hand that guides mine, Aria. Even when I don’t know what this carving is going to be, He knows. He has instructed me to keep carving, even if it is seemingly in vain, for one day I will be able to see the product of my diligence and faith.”
Thoroughly perplexed, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”
He had flicked his serious green eyes at me. “You will one day, Aria. Do not worry. I will help you to learn His ways.”
I stayed silent, watching him as he resumed his whittling. I had not had a clue as to what he was referring to, but I enjoyed his serene, calming presence, and that was all that mattered right then.
It was just a dream. He’s not real. He’s not real.
The paper in the jar burned.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Guardian - Prologue - Part 2
I could see Jayeden roll his eyes upward in exasperation and heard him draw in a slow breath to calm himself down. “Aria, think logically. You have no idea where they are. You’re injured to the point of bleeding out. Even if you were in perfectly good health and you had a clue on where they were, you’d have no chance.”
He paused and stared at me for a moment as I swayed back and forth. “You’re also about to pass out on me again.” He muttered. He placed a hand on my shoulder and another on my left arm to steady me.
Getting a second wind, I suddenly felt enriched with new energy that chased the dizziness away. I straightened up and determinedly glared at Jayeden. “There is a chance. I’m going to find and help them if it kills me.” I attempted to wrench away from him.
Jayeden watched me with sympathetic eyes, keeping me restrained within his iron grip. Good grief, when did he start working out?
I finally gave up on getting away from him and huffed. Being a red belt in Taekwondo wasn’t really helping me right then.
The corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile, Jayeden drilled that green-eyed gaze into me. “Are you done yet?”
When I didn’t answer, his face grew serious again. “Aria, why won’t you let me take you to the hospital?”
Great. Exactly where I didn’t want the conversation to go. I felt my face grow hot. “It’s a long story. I just can’t go, okay? Please, please don’t take me.” I felt desperate.
He sighed. “Okay. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but okay. I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
Taken aback, I stared at him unblinking. Did he just say what I thought he said?
He nodded to the door. “So, where do you think they went?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know where they took the kids. I just feel that they’re getting further and further away.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Feel? Aria, if you keep talking like this, I’m going to have no choice but to-…”
“You won’t have to do that.” I interrupted. “Just trust me, okay?” I started for the door.
Jayeden reached out and grabbed my left arm, throwing it over his shoulder. He placed his hand under my right arm, practically lifting me off of the floor.
Startled, I craned my head to see him looking down at me. “What are you doing?” I asked, a bit of alarm creeping into my voice.
“You’re not going anywhere without me.” He said softly. His serious green eyes searched my face.
I nervously shifted. I appreciated the gesture, but if he felt my wings through my jacket…
I nodded jerkily and managed a shaky smile. “Thanks.” Determined to get his attention elsewhere, I started once again for the door.
We reached his car with no comments on his end, so I guessed that he was either too nice to say anything or just hadn’t noticed the unusual lump on my back. He let go of me and hovered there for a second, testing to see whether or not I could stand up on my own. Satisfied that I was okay, he unlocked the passenger door and opened it for me.
Once I had painstakingly climbed into the seat and gotten buckled in, Jayeden shut the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. I grimaced as I pulled the seatbelt to where it wasn’t so tight against my tender stomach.
“So, what do we do now?” Jayeden turned the car on and glanced at me as he pulled his Lancer out of the parking lot.
I sighed and leaned my head back. Somehow I knew where they were, like part of me was still with them and unconsciously documenting what was happening. I rubbed my eyes. So many weird things had been happening to me.
“I’m not sure…” I murmured as I closed my eyes. Maybe if I concentrated, I could pull the information out that I was looking for. It was right there, I knew it, but still out of reach. It was like looking at a picture and not being able to make out the object, but still able see the colors. I drowned out the noise of the engine and delved into my thoughts. I pictured myself standing with the others, wherever they might be.
Without warning, I was pulled into the pictures in my mind. I was suddenly sitting cross-legged in a dimly lit room that rocked and bounced violently. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the scarce light, but I could make out three faint figures huddled on the floor. I gasped slightly when I realized that each of the figures was chained to the wall.
“Chandler?” I said incredulously to the brown-haired girl hugging her knees beside me. My best friend paid no attention to me. I tried to touch her, but my hand passed through her body like it was vapor. I stepped back in shock.
They were being transported like animals in a truck. Where they were being transported, I didn’t know. I had to find that out. I closed my eyes with a hard swallow and imagined myself in the cockpit with the driver.
I opened my eyes experimentally, and found myself sitting in the seat next to a big, hairy guy behind the wheel. I wrinkled my nose at the smell that wafted from him. I looked around at the road before us and managed to get a glimpse of a few road signs that indicated their location.
I closed my eyes to will myself back into the cargo hold again, when a wave of weakness hit me like a sledgehammer to the head. I gasped and frantically concentrated harder. I had to hurry.
I rematerialized into the dark room with the kids. I hurried over to one of my friends’ side, my breathing becoming labored. I was slowly fading.
I leaned close to the girl, who I made out to be Liah, my friend Gallagher’s younger sister, and whispered quickly into her ear. “Hey, hang in there, okay? You guys are strong; you can do it. I know you can. Don’t give up. I’ll be here to help you soon. Just hang on till I get here.” My lungs felt like they were going to explode.
Liah gave a small groan and lifted her head. She looked straight at me, her eyes widening. She said nothing.
I nodded earnestly, and my heart fluttered. Maybe she could see me. “Alright, Liah. You’re doing great. I know it’s scary, I know it’s hard. But just stick it out, okay? Do that for me.”
Liah was silent, but her eyes grew ever wider.
I gave her a small smile and closed my eyes. I couldn’t stay any longer; already I was blacking out. I withdrew my presence from the picture in my mind.
I vaguely became aware of cool air blowing on my face and the scent of Jayeden’s car floating into my nose. I sighed deeply and relaxed. But that didn’t last very long.
I remembered the road signs I saw. I jerked up. “Turn left here, take I-71 south, get off on exit 220, take two lefts and a right.” My hand flew up to cover my mouth. Where had that come from?
His knuckles turning white from his death grip on the steering wheel, Jayeden threw an astonished look in my direction. “What? How do you know that?”
Sucking in the cool air, I shifted in my seat. “I don’t know; I just do.” I mentally kicked myself for being so careless about what I said. “Um, I think I remember hearing one of the bad guys saying something about going, um, in…that direction…” I trailed off, realizing that I was only making the situation worse by trying to explain myself.
Jayeden looked at me suspiciously for one moment, as if considering bypassing the hospital and going for the loony bin instead, then turned back to face the road. We drove on in silence.
Feeling embarrassed and ashamed of making a fool out of myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back. Why couldn’t I have been normal? I would’ve gotten along perfectly fine without wings, constant nightmares that scared the bejeebies out of me, and all this other weird stuff that was happening to me today! Why?
Why couldn’t someone understand?
He paused and stared at me for a moment as I swayed back and forth. “You’re also about to pass out on me again.” He muttered. He placed a hand on my shoulder and another on my left arm to steady me.
Getting a second wind, I suddenly felt enriched with new energy that chased the dizziness away. I straightened up and determinedly glared at Jayeden. “There is a chance. I’m going to find and help them if it kills me.” I attempted to wrench away from him.
Jayeden watched me with sympathetic eyes, keeping me restrained within his iron grip. Good grief, when did he start working out?
I finally gave up on getting away from him and huffed. Being a red belt in Taekwondo wasn’t really helping me right then.
The corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile, Jayeden drilled that green-eyed gaze into me. “Are you done yet?”
When I didn’t answer, his face grew serious again. “Aria, why won’t you let me take you to the hospital?”
Great. Exactly where I didn’t want the conversation to go. I felt my face grow hot. “It’s a long story. I just can’t go, okay? Please, please don’t take me.” I felt desperate.
He sighed. “Okay. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but okay. I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
Taken aback, I stared at him unblinking. Did he just say what I thought he said?
He nodded to the door. “So, where do you think they went?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know where they took the kids. I just feel that they’re getting further and further away.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Feel? Aria, if you keep talking like this, I’m going to have no choice but to-…”
“You won’t have to do that.” I interrupted. “Just trust me, okay?” I started for the door.
Jayeden reached out and grabbed my left arm, throwing it over his shoulder. He placed his hand under my right arm, practically lifting me off of the floor.
Startled, I craned my head to see him looking down at me. “What are you doing?” I asked, a bit of alarm creeping into my voice.
“You’re not going anywhere without me.” He said softly. His serious green eyes searched my face.
I nervously shifted. I appreciated the gesture, but if he felt my wings through my jacket…
I nodded jerkily and managed a shaky smile. “Thanks.” Determined to get his attention elsewhere, I started once again for the door.
We reached his car with no comments on his end, so I guessed that he was either too nice to say anything or just hadn’t noticed the unusual lump on my back. He let go of me and hovered there for a second, testing to see whether or not I could stand up on my own. Satisfied that I was okay, he unlocked the passenger door and opened it for me.
Once I had painstakingly climbed into the seat and gotten buckled in, Jayeden shut the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. I grimaced as I pulled the seatbelt to where it wasn’t so tight against my tender stomach.
“So, what do we do now?” Jayeden turned the car on and glanced at me as he pulled his Lancer out of the parking lot.
I sighed and leaned my head back. Somehow I knew where they were, like part of me was still with them and unconsciously documenting what was happening. I rubbed my eyes. So many weird things had been happening to me.
“I’m not sure…” I murmured as I closed my eyes. Maybe if I concentrated, I could pull the information out that I was looking for. It was right there, I knew it, but still out of reach. It was like looking at a picture and not being able to make out the object, but still able see the colors. I drowned out the noise of the engine and delved into my thoughts. I pictured myself standing with the others, wherever they might be.
Without warning, I was pulled into the pictures in my mind. I was suddenly sitting cross-legged in a dimly lit room that rocked and bounced violently. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the scarce light, but I could make out three faint figures huddled on the floor. I gasped slightly when I realized that each of the figures was chained to the wall.
“Chandler?” I said incredulously to the brown-haired girl hugging her knees beside me. My best friend paid no attention to me. I tried to touch her, but my hand passed through her body like it was vapor. I stepped back in shock.
They were being transported like animals in a truck. Where they were being transported, I didn’t know. I had to find that out. I closed my eyes with a hard swallow and imagined myself in the cockpit with the driver.
I opened my eyes experimentally, and found myself sitting in the seat next to a big, hairy guy behind the wheel. I wrinkled my nose at the smell that wafted from him. I looked around at the road before us and managed to get a glimpse of a few road signs that indicated their location.
I closed my eyes to will myself back into the cargo hold again, when a wave of weakness hit me like a sledgehammer to the head. I gasped and frantically concentrated harder. I had to hurry.
I rematerialized into the dark room with the kids. I hurried over to one of my friends’ side, my breathing becoming labored. I was slowly fading.
I leaned close to the girl, who I made out to be Liah, my friend Gallagher’s younger sister, and whispered quickly into her ear. “Hey, hang in there, okay? You guys are strong; you can do it. I know you can. Don’t give up. I’ll be here to help you soon. Just hang on till I get here.” My lungs felt like they were going to explode.
Liah gave a small groan and lifted her head. She looked straight at me, her eyes widening. She said nothing.
I nodded earnestly, and my heart fluttered. Maybe she could see me. “Alright, Liah. You’re doing great. I know it’s scary, I know it’s hard. But just stick it out, okay? Do that for me.”
Liah was silent, but her eyes grew ever wider.
I gave her a small smile and closed my eyes. I couldn’t stay any longer; already I was blacking out. I withdrew my presence from the picture in my mind.
I vaguely became aware of cool air blowing on my face and the scent of Jayeden’s car floating into my nose. I sighed deeply and relaxed. But that didn’t last very long.
I remembered the road signs I saw. I jerked up. “Turn left here, take I-71 south, get off on exit 220, take two lefts and a right.” My hand flew up to cover my mouth. Where had that come from?
His knuckles turning white from his death grip on the steering wheel, Jayeden threw an astonished look in my direction. “What? How do you know that?”
Sucking in the cool air, I shifted in my seat. “I don’t know; I just do.” I mentally kicked myself for being so careless about what I said. “Um, I think I remember hearing one of the bad guys saying something about going, um, in…that direction…” I trailed off, realizing that I was only making the situation worse by trying to explain myself.
Jayeden looked at me suspiciously for one moment, as if considering bypassing the hospital and going for the loony bin instead, then turned back to face the road. We drove on in silence.
Feeling embarrassed and ashamed of making a fool out of myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back. Why couldn’t I have been normal? I would’ve gotten along perfectly fine without wings, constant nightmares that scared the bejeebies out of me, and all this other weird stuff that was happening to me today! Why?
Why couldn’t someone understand?
Guardian - Prologue - Part 1
I awoke with a start, jerking upright and panting heavily. A sharp, searing pain shot through my abdomen that made me feel like I’d been shish-kebabed. I clutched at the left lower part of my stomach, wondering why I wasn’t dead yet. Biting my lip and holding my breath, I tenderly pulled my jacket up and peeled back my blood–soaked shirt. I cried out in agony as I strained to pull my undershirt off of the crusty wound so I could get a better look at it.
I gently propped myself onto my elbows and looked down at the gash in my stomach. It was about two inches across and who knew how deep. Burly Man must have dug the blade around in there quite a bit after I’d lost consciousness. I lay back down on the floor, exhausted.
I should be dead.
I closed my eyes and rested for a minute. With every heart beat, my stab wound sent a tidal wave of unbearable pain throbbing throughout my body. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t possibly yell for one of the kids…adrenaline suddenly burst into my veins. The kids!
Gathering every bit of will I had, I struggled to my feet and clutched at my injury. Had the kids gotten away? Or had they been captured by Burly’s men because I failed to keep them distracted while the kids made their escape? I took a step and faltered slightly. There wasn’t much I could do. That fact by itself made me want to scream.
About to pass out again, I limped slowly toward the door. My legs felt like Jell-O in 90 degree weather. I grimaced with every step, but gritted my teeth and kept on. I had to help them.
I finally reached the door and pushed it open, only to have my legs buckle under me. I crashed through the doors and to the floor in a heap, flopping onto my right side in order to avoid jarring my injury too much. A small squeak escaped my lips.
My heart dropped. The fatigue totally wiped out my will to keep on. Who knew where my friends were by now? They could’ve been captured by those men, or they could’ve gotten away. Either way, they were still in danger. I was the only one to help them, and there I was writhing on the ground with no hope like a dying snake.
Great friend I am.
With a deeply exhaled breath and a surge of pain following it, I closed my eyes and relaxed my whole body. My wound was still bleeding, though I didn’t really notice as I rested; I was too busy imagining my overexerted muscles melting into the floor.
A sound came from the main doors; I cracked an eye open slightly to see what it was. Most likely Burly Man coming to make sure that I was dead.
I squinted at the blinding light. A figure emerged from the glow, paused for a moment, and then started slowly toward me. I opened my other eye and blinked, wanting to confidently meet Burly Man’s evil glare as he ended my existence. The figure grew taller as it got closer, taller than Burly was.
I wrinkled my nose. Burly Man sent one of his men to kill me instead? The person stopped suddenly, and I heard a small gasp. “Aria?”
I tilted my head a little, straining for a better view. Was that someone I knew? Evidently he knew me. I sorted through the people I was acquainted with in my head.
The guy rushed to my side and knelt down next to me. I looked into his face, struggling to identify him. He had brown hair that was slightly spiked at the front. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in two days… I blinked several times. My thoughts were so foggy, I couldn’t get anything straight. Did I know this person? He looked so familiar.
I stared at him hard, not even recognizing that he had lifted me off of the ground and held me in his arms. His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. The realization that I wasn’t going to last much longer came like a punch in the gut. I watched him as he flicked his gaze from me to something before him. His eyes transformed from a blue tint to a vivid green as light spilled onto his face. My heart jumped in recollection.
Jayeden.
For some reason, relief flowed over me like healing water. If there was going to be anyone at my side when I died, I wanted it to be him. I closed my eyes with a small smile. It was nice to have a friend there for you. I was vaguely aware of the sweet numbness enveloping my body. I nestled into the growing darkness.
“No; no, Aria, don’t do this! Don’t die on me...”
Something pulled me back. I wanted to shake off the command. The darkness was so comforting, so…safe. I drifted back into the nothingness.
“Oh no. No. Hold on, Aria...”
I wrenched myself from the plea. Leave me alone! Why can’t you just leave me alone? I felt like curling up in a ball and crying. Go away… I felt a hesitation. “Aria?”
I wanted so desperately to fade into the darkness. No…I’m so tired. Leave me alone.
“No. I refuse to leave you alone.” Something yanked me back into the blinding light and excruciating pain.
I screamed in anguish. I didn’t want to hurt anymore, didn’t want to face the pain. I was too exhausted.
Yet something kept pulling me out into the open; out where I wasn’t safe. It was so cold. “Okay…okay, we’re doing well. Hold on.”
I groaned as shivers wracked my entire body. Why were they doing this to me? Why? Let me go! I kicked and fought and struggled against the force that reeled me back into the torture.
An impression of happiness that wasn’t mine touched my thoughts. “Good. Keep fighting, Aria. We’re almost there.”
Fighting? I quit thrashing around and relaxed. Maybe if I stopped struggling… I let myself drift away in the river of black. Just let me go… Overwhelming fear tackled my mind as I descended, almost out of the force’s constant grasp. I wasn’t the one who was afraid, though.
“No! Aria, don’t you dare! I will not let you die!” Heart-driven power exploded all around me as I was grabbed and jerked upward, out of the darkness. All of my senses were overloaded at once. My body automatically gasped for air, something that felt extremely foreign and almost painful.
I suddenly became aware that it was very cold. I coughed violently as my lungs grew accustomed to the oxygen that it had been deprived of. I couldn’t open my eyes for fear that I would be blinded.
“Where am I?” I choked, asking no one in particular. I grimaced at the volume of my voice.
“You’re at the school.” An exhausted voice sounded beside me. I forced my eyes open and tilted my head toward the person. Jayeden Storm sat on the floor below me, looking like he had just fought a battle. His weary eyes searched mine.
I blinked and realized that I was lying on a couch. My head was pounding with the amount of information my senses were sending it all at once. I unconsciously placed my hand on my stomach, my fingers brushing the sticky hole in my shirt. With a start, I jerked up, thinking that my wound had disappeared; I couldn’t find it. An agonizing pulsation caught me by surprise. I gave a loud groan. Never mind. I found it.
Jayeden jumped up as quickly as I did. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I eased myself back down to the soft couch, a small bit of air escaping sharply from my mouth. Throbbing rivers of pain coursed through my abdomen and dissipated among my muscles. Ouch.
I turned my head and looked at Jayeden, who was hovering over me with a freaked-out expression on his face.
I gave a small, lop-sided grin, trying to be brave. I had been through worse before; I could handle this now. “What’s up?”
Jayeden’s freaked-out look turned into one of incredulity. “Uh, you just got stabbed. That’s what’s up.”
Wiping the silly grin off of my face, I sighed and grimaced. “Yeah, I know. The pain won’t let me forget.” I looked at the carpet, replaying what happened earlier as images in my mind. Without warning, fear struck my innermost heart. I jerked up again, this time ignoring the throbbing that screamed at me angrily for straining myself. I clumsily stumbled to my feet. “The kids!”
I wobbled and almost threw up as my world suddenly started tossing and turning before my eyes. Thankfully, Jayeden leapt to his feet just in time to catch me before I hit the floor.
The guy kept a hold of my shoulders to steady me as the never-ending dizziness struck me as if I’d just downed enough alcohol to intoxicate an elephant. The unstableness eventually subsided, and the room was returned to its original place. I blinked to focus my vision and testing my endurance, took a hesitant step away from Jayeden.
Jayeden caught my arm and whirled me around so I was facing him. “Where do you think you’re going? You’ve just been stabbed! You should be in the hospital right now!”
I tilted my chin up stubbornly and met his gaze. “The kids are in trouble! I’ve got to do something to help them. I’m not going to sit around while they’re probably getting tortured or something!”
“You’re in no shape for any rescue missions right now.” Jayeden narrowed his eyes. “We’ll call the police and let them find the other kids. But right now, I need to get you to the emergency room.”
I did my best to keep my eyes from tripling in size and my face from turning a deep shade of red. The last thing I needed was some poor doctor or nurse doing a routine check stumbling across a little secret that I liked to call my wings. There was no way that I would let myself be placed in that position. Who knows what they would do to me - a freak?
Ducking my head down a slight bit, I scratched my neck nervously. “No, I refuse to go.” My voice quivered as I tried to sound strong and commanding. Looking down, I shook my head and bit my lip; tears were starting to pool in my eyes.
Jayeden placed a finger under my chin and pushed upward, catching my wavering gaze. “You’re hurt, Aria. You can’t go on with a big gaping hole in your stomach. You need someone to fix it up.”
I clenched my fists tightly for one last defiant stand. “I don’t need anyone to fix me up. I can go on just fine on my own.” My confidence quickly faded as I felt a warm, wet sensation on my skin under my shirt. My wound was bleeding again. Defeated, I looked back up at Jayeden. “Please…don’t do this to me.”
Jayeden stared at me for several moments longer, trying to understand what I had just said. He dropped his voice down to a calmer tone. “Aria, I can’t just leave you here to bleed to death. What do you expect me to do?”
My vision becoming edged with black fuzzies once again, I blinked and strained to see Jayeden’s expression. “I…I don’t know. But they need my help…I can’t leave them to die, I just can’t.”
I gently propped myself onto my elbows and looked down at the gash in my stomach. It was about two inches across and who knew how deep. Burly Man must have dug the blade around in there quite a bit after I’d lost consciousness. I lay back down on the floor, exhausted.
I should be dead.
I closed my eyes and rested for a minute. With every heart beat, my stab wound sent a tidal wave of unbearable pain throbbing throughout my body. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t possibly yell for one of the kids…adrenaline suddenly burst into my veins. The kids!
Gathering every bit of will I had, I struggled to my feet and clutched at my injury. Had the kids gotten away? Or had they been captured by Burly’s men because I failed to keep them distracted while the kids made their escape? I took a step and faltered slightly. There wasn’t much I could do. That fact by itself made me want to scream.
About to pass out again, I limped slowly toward the door. My legs felt like Jell-O in 90 degree weather. I grimaced with every step, but gritted my teeth and kept on. I had to help them.
I finally reached the door and pushed it open, only to have my legs buckle under me. I crashed through the doors and to the floor in a heap, flopping onto my right side in order to avoid jarring my injury too much. A small squeak escaped my lips.
My heart dropped. The fatigue totally wiped out my will to keep on. Who knew where my friends were by now? They could’ve been captured by those men, or they could’ve gotten away. Either way, they were still in danger. I was the only one to help them, and there I was writhing on the ground with no hope like a dying snake.
Great friend I am.
With a deeply exhaled breath and a surge of pain following it, I closed my eyes and relaxed my whole body. My wound was still bleeding, though I didn’t really notice as I rested; I was too busy imagining my overexerted muscles melting into the floor.
A sound came from the main doors; I cracked an eye open slightly to see what it was. Most likely Burly Man coming to make sure that I was dead.
I squinted at the blinding light. A figure emerged from the glow, paused for a moment, and then started slowly toward me. I opened my other eye and blinked, wanting to confidently meet Burly Man’s evil glare as he ended my existence. The figure grew taller as it got closer, taller than Burly was.
I wrinkled my nose. Burly Man sent one of his men to kill me instead? The person stopped suddenly, and I heard a small gasp. “Aria?”
I tilted my head a little, straining for a better view. Was that someone I knew? Evidently he knew me. I sorted through the people I was acquainted with in my head.
The guy rushed to my side and knelt down next to me. I looked into his face, struggling to identify him. He had brown hair that was slightly spiked at the front. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in two days… I blinked several times. My thoughts were so foggy, I couldn’t get anything straight. Did I know this person? He looked so familiar.
I stared at him hard, not even recognizing that he had lifted me off of the ground and held me in his arms. His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. The realization that I wasn’t going to last much longer came like a punch in the gut. I watched him as he flicked his gaze from me to something before him. His eyes transformed from a blue tint to a vivid green as light spilled onto his face. My heart jumped in recollection.
Jayeden.
For some reason, relief flowed over me like healing water. If there was going to be anyone at my side when I died, I wanted it to be him. I closed my eyes with a small smile. It was nice to have a friend there for you. I was vaguely aware of the sweet numbness enveloping my body. I nestled into the growing darkness.
“No; no, Aria, don’t do this! Don’t die on me...”
Something pulled me back. I wanted to shake off the command. The darkness was so comforting, so…safe. I drifted back into the nothingness.
“Oh no. No. Hold on, Aria...”
I wrenched myself from the plea. Leave me alone! Why can’t you just leave me alone? I felt like curling up in a ball and crying. Go away… I felt a hesitation. “Aria?”
I wanted so desperately to fade into the darkness. No…I’m so tired. Leave me alone.
“No. I refuse to leave you alone.” Something yanked me back into the blinding light and excruciating pain.
I screamed in anguish. I didn’t want to hurt anymore, didn’t want to face the pain. I was too exhausted.
Yet something kept pulling me out into the open; out where I wasn’t safe. It was so cold. “Okay…okay, we’re doing well. Hold on.”
I groaned as shivers wracked my entire body. Why were they doing this to me? Why? Let me go! I kicked and fought and struggled against the force that reeled me back into the torture.
An impression of happiness that wasn’t mine touched my thoughts. “Good. Keep fighting, Aria. We’re almost there.”
Fighting? I quit thrashing around and relaxed. Maybe if I stopped struggling… I let myself drift away in the river of black. Just let me go… Overwhelming fear tackled my mind as I descended, almost out of the force’s constant grasp. I wasn’t the one who was afraid, though.
“No! Aria, don’t you dare! I will not let you die!” Heart-driven power exploded all around me as I was grabbed and jerked upward, out of the darkness. All of my senses were overloaded at once. My body automatically gasped for air, something that felt extremely foreign and almost painful.
I suddenly became aware that it was very cold. I coughed violently as my lungs grew accustomed to the oxygen that it had been deprived of. I couldn’t open my eyes for fear that I would be blinded.
“Where am I?” I choked, asking no one in particular. I grimaced at the volume of my voice.
“You’re at the school.” An exhausted voice sounded beside me. I forced my eyes open and tilted my head toward the person. Jayeden Storm sat on the floor below me, looking like he had just fought a battle. His weary eyes searched mine.
I blinked and realized that I was lying on a couch. My head was pounding with the amount of information my senses were sending it all at once. I unconsciously placed my hand on my stomach, my fingers brushing the sticky hole in my shirt. With a start, I jerked up, thinking that my wound had disappeared; I couldn’t find it. An agonizing pulsation caught me by surprise. I gave a loud groan. Never mind. I found it.
Jayeden jumped up as quickly as I did. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I eased myself back down to the soft couch, a small bit of air escaping sharply from my mouth. Throbbing rivers of pain coursed through my abdomen and dissipated among my muscles. Ouch.
I turned my head and looked at Jayeden, who was hovering over me with a freaked-out expression on his face.
I gave a small, lop-sided grin, trying to be brave. I had been through worse before; I could handle this now. “What’s up?”
Jayeden’s freaked-out look turned into one of incredulity. “Uh, you just got stabbed. That’s what’s up.”
Wiping the silly grin off of my face, I sighed and grimaced. “Yeah, I know. The pain won’t let me forget.” I looked at the carpet, replaying what happened earlier as images in my mind. Without warning, fear struck my innermost heart. I jerked up again, this time ignoring the throbbing that screamed at me angrily for straining myself. I clumsily stumbled to my feet. “The kids!”
I wobbled and almost threw up as my world suddenly started tossing and turning before my eyes. Thankfully, Jayeden leapt to his feet just in time to catch me before I hit the floor.
The guy kept a hold of my shoulders to steady me as the never-ending dizziness struck me as if I’d just downed enough alcohol to intoxicate an elephant. The unstableness eventually subsided, and the room was returned to its original place. I blinked to focus my vision and testing my endurance, took a hesitant step away from Jayeden.
Jayeden caught my arm and whirled me around so I was facing him. “Where do you think you’re going? You’ve just been stabbed! You should be in the hospital right now!”
I tilted my chin up stubbornly and met his gaze. “The kids are in trouble! I’ve got to do something to help them. I’m not going to sit around while they’re probably getting tortured or something!”
“You’re in no shape for any rescue missions right now.” Jayeden narrowed his eyes. “We’ll call the police and let them find the other kids. But right now, I need to get you to the emergency room.”
I did my best to keep my eyes from tripling in size and my face from turning a deep shade of red. The last thing I needed was some poor doctor or nurse doing a routine check stumbling across a little secret that I liked to call my wings. There was no way that I would let myself be placed in that position. Who knows what they would do to me - a freak?
Ducking my head down a slight bit, I scratched my neck nervously. “No, I refuse to go.” My voice quivered as I tried to sound strong and commanding. Looking down, I shook my head and bit my lip; tears were starting to pool in my eyes.
Jayeden placed a finger under my chin and pushed upward, catching my wavering gaze. “You’re hurt, Aria. You can’t go on with a big gaping hole in your stomach. You need someone to fix it up.”
I clenched my fists tightly for one last defiant stand. “I don’t need anyone to fix me up. I can go on just fine on my own.” My confidence quickly faded as I felt a warm, wet sensation on my skin under my shirt. My wound was bleeding again. Defeated, I looked back up at Jayeden. “Please…don’t do this to me.”
Jayeden stared at me for several moments longer, trying to understand what I had just said. He dropped his voice down to a calmer tone. “Aria, I can’t just leave you here to bleed to death. What do you expect me to do?”
My vision becoming edged with black fuzzies once again, I blinked and strained to see Jayeden’s expression. “I…I don’t know. But they need my help…I can’t leave them to die, I just can’t.”
Ahh, A New Story??
Yes, please.
The next few posts will be a story entitled "Guardian", working title, of course. I haven't really gotten around to coming up with a better one, but comments or thoughts about it (and the story itself) are appreciated.
So....
Let the story commence!
The next few posts will be a story entitled "Guardian", working title, of course. I haven't really gotten around to coming up with a better one, but comments or thoughts about it (and the story itself) are appreciated.
So....
Let the story commence!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Book Proposal
So, for one of my last assignments for Christian Writer's Guild was to write a book proposal. So I did, and came up with this. Now I'm dying to finish this book. My goal is to be three-quarters of the way finished when school starts next year. (I'm a freshman in college!!) So, here's the proposal, tell me what you think of the idea.
The Last Generation
Proposal: I propose a fiction book of the science fiction/fantasy genre that will have Christian aspects and ideas incorporated into an original adventure that will enthrall those that read it. This book will be the first of a four part installment that will begin with a young girl walking into an unknown world, changing it forever, and end with her descendants finishing what she started. This book will show the meaning of dedication and leadership, reveal the intensity behind loyalty and courage, and tell of the hurts, pain, and difficulty experienced while setting one’s life according to God’s Will, all while divulging a intricate tale.
Form: Paperback, 100,000 words
Audience: I perceive the buyers to be:
Christian or secular teens who are eager for an original fantasy/science fiction book
Teens who think that they must be specially equipped with knowledge and/or talents in order to follow God’s Will and call.
Young adults or adults who desire to follow God’s Will, but believe they missed their chance to serve Him.
This book is geared toward teens and young adults but does not exclude adults and pre-teens.
Rationale: In the past few years, the hunger in teens for stories that were unreal, fantastical, and simply non-believable has grown into an enormous demand for more books that will take one’s imagination to places it’s never gone. Secular authors recognized this hunger and immediately started writing more science fiction and fantasy to quench their ravenous readers. Some Christian authors have also recognized this demand, and have broke the mold of Christian fiction by writing books of this genre, but more Christian writers need to be reaching the next generation with Christian truths, and one way to reach them is through this genre of books. The Last Generation will give this tough crowd the tales they want, while helping them learn important values and what it’s like to serve God – for real.
Qualifications: I am a first-time author, but I took several extra English and writing courses in high school, and am currently studying to be an English major with a minor in Creative Writing.
I have also had one-on-one experience with other teenagers and young adults who, like myself, enjoy the science-fiction/fantasy genre, and have collected information on what they desire most in a novel, observed the topics of the books they read, and have asked them their ideas of the perfect novel. I have many ongoing sources that I can use in the future when it comes to writing this series.
Marketing Research: There are two books similar to my topic:
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis (C.S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. 1950)
Summary: In the never-ending war between good and evil, The Chronicles of Narnia set the stage for battles of epic proportions. Some take place in vast fields where the forces of light and darkness clash. But other battles occur within the small chambers of the heart, and are equally decisive. At the core of each of the seven books in the chronicles is the magnificent lion Aslan--the powerful high-king whose wisdom guides all. Journeys to the ends of the world, fantastic creatures, betrayals, heroic deeds, and friendships won and lost all come together in an unforgettable world of magic. So open the door and enter a new world (Christianbook.com).
Difference: Mine has fantastical creatures and battles, but takes a more personal journey with the characters, seeing how they make their decisions, the struggles they go through, and the relief and joy and regretful heartache once they’ve made their decision.
Dragonspell by Donita K. Paul (Random House 2004)
Summary: Once a slave, Kale is given the unexpected opportunity to become a servant to Paladin. A small band of Paladin's servants rescue Kale from danger but turn her from her destination: The Hall, where she was to be trained. Feeling afraid and unprepared, Kale embarks on a perilous quest to find the dragon egg stolen by the foul Wizard Risto (Christianbook.com).
Difference: Mine is more in-depth and personal with the plot and the characters.
Distinctives: The following will make my book even more appealing:
A pronunciation guide in the back of the book
Five pages of discussion questions to do with friends or family
Promotional and Marketing Ideas: I have several ideas to help promote this book, and am aware of my responsibility as the author to help in this regard.
1.) Website promoting book and series – possibly start a public forum
2.) Visits to bookstores and libraries for readings and discussions
3.) Public speaking opportunities
4.) Sneak-peeks to upcoming books in series
5.) Donate a handful of books to choice libraries – for good circulation
Manuscript Status: A two page synopsis follows this proposal. I could have the manuscript ready in nine to twelve months.
Synopsis
Dakota O’Neill, a fifteen year-old girl with a sad past and a future that doesn’t look too bright, suddenly finds herself at a foster group home in the city of Alliance, Nevada after being reported for things that were not her fault by her last set of foster parents. Facing her problems with suppressed emotions and a hardened heart, Dakota reluctantly attends Alliance High, with the promise to herself that she would never get close to anyone again.
A few weeks into the school year, she meets the bubbly Charity and her overconfident friend, Reece, and saves a boy from getting beat up by two grown men. A week after helping the boy, she is pursued by one of the two men. She runs as fast as she can, but suddenly finds herself in another world, with no explanation as to how she got there.
Dakota sees things there that she never would have believed before. An ever-purple sky, three moons that are most visible during the day, feathery birds ranging from bug-size to behemoth size, dragons, giant, canopy-like trees, strange creatures that live in both the air and the water. There is simply no end to the unfamiliar. Dakota discovers that she landed in a very militaristically-minded country that is at war with its greatest enemy.
Dakota, while being taken on an orientation of the main building of the capital city, makes the mistake of touching one of seven colored stones on display, said to be Cinneia’s last line of defense in their time of greatest need. She drops the smallest stone, slightly cracking its shimmering pale green exterior. She puts it back, hoping no one notices her mistake, and continues on like nothing ever happened.
The next day, she is shown the animal nurseries and stables, which holds creatures that Dakota has never seen in her life. She meets a young dragon that can’t fly or talk (she also discovered that dragons can usually physically speak when they’re 2 or 3.) and has been considered handicapped. She instantly bonds with the dragon, whom she names Aerhan, after her older brother who disappeared when she was 11, and eventually, over a few months, teaches him to speak and fly.
Six months after Dakota meets Aerhan, the head general over all of the militaristic divisions and branches of the country picks her out from a crowd of people, and asks her to come with him. He tells her of the status of their country, and that they desperately need aid in fighting. He tells her that he believes in a God who’ll deliver them and help them in their greatest time of need; that his God had pointed Dakota out to him. He tells her of a legendary branch of the military, a special branch, designed specifically to protect the city and it’s people, whose time has come to be summoned again. He appoints Dakota the head of this division, the Dragonguards, a team of seven people and seven dragons. The general then tells her that this is the beginning of the last generation of the Dragonguards.
Dakota initially struggles with this responsibility, and keeps protesting that she isn’t the right person for the job. She can’t fight well, can’t ride a dragon very well at all after several attempts, has trouble making split-second decisions, and has never led anything or anyone in her life. She must first gather six others, along with six dragons. To her surprise, six teens that she knew from Alliance High, including Charity and Reece, show up looking lost and confused. A few days later, all of them somehow find their dragon; whether it be by the birth of a newborn or the retirement of an old farm dragon. Within two weeks, Dakota has everyone she needs.
The Dragonguards begin their training in flying, fighting, diplomacy, culture, and stealth in preparation for an upcoming attack of the enemy. They are also instructed by the general himself about the power and love of God, and how He can save us from harm, if we accept him. They learn that this belief is not prominent in the country anymore, and are often discriminated for believing it. One of the Dragonguards rejects it. Meanwhile, Dakota happens upon the realization with the aid of a friend that she is from and was born in this world. She finds out her mother is the queen, who was forced to marry the king’s son after her husband was murdered. Dakota learns that her mother sent her and her brother with her husband’s brother and his wife to live in a separate world, the world that Dakota knew. Dakota meets with her birth mother and finds out this information, but is forced out by her mother’s husband, and threatened.
Shortly afterwards, Misáraeh starts to endure attacks from all parts of the borders, and the Dragonguards are called on their first mission to help. They fight battle after battle, seemingly swatting away an endless stream of attacks. They are eventually called back to the capital city to stay on guard and protect the people there.
By this time a year and a half has passed since Dakota first laid foot in this country, and the Dragonguards are taken aside by the general and asked a hard question. He shows them their lives back in Alliance, their school, friends, and family. He even shows Dakota a home that wasn’t consumed by fire, a home where her parents were still alive and her brother had come home that one day. He asks all of them, in private, if they would like to return home, to the places that they’ve dreamed of returning to, instead of serving God and Misáraeh in the war. He presents to them a choice that will change their lives drastically in either way, with no judgment against them on what they choose.
Dakota struggles enormously, wanting desperately to go back to the family she’d lost so many years ago, to live like a normal, happy teenager, and not one that had been hurt and scarred so many times. With great longing in her heart she declines the offer, feeling that even though her mind wanted her family back, her heart was here, serving God. The other Dragonguards choose likewise.
The next day, the Dragonguards are sent to make an attack on a weak spot in the defenses of the enemy country. Dakota is knocked off of Aerhan during the battle, and falls within the walls of the city they’re attacking. She is captured, and thrown into a cell. Her cell guard is a man named Aleight, a young soldier who doesn’t treat her as roughly as the others do, and who always has a guarded expression. Dakota notices the way he looked disapprovingly at his superiors who promoted the beating of the prisoners, and his attitude toward the captives. When the day comes that she is scheduled to be interrogated, Aleight breaks her out and leads her out of the city, stopping dead in his tracks just fifteen feet away from the wall. Dakota persuades him to go with her, that he can defect and help her country fight for what is right. He concedes, and goes back to Misáraeh with her.
Over a period of three months, Aleight is thrown in prison by the king while Dakota protests his imprisonment, Aleight is released from the prison and set in active duty with the Neiran (firebird) Division by command of the general, and Dakota is reunited with her brother who she hasn’t seen in seven years who’d been in Misáraeh since the day he disappeared.
Two years later, when Dakota is nineteen, she and Aleight get married. Three weeks later, the corrupt king is killed in battle, with no successors or qualified candidates. A diplomatic battle ensues within the walls of the city over who is qualified. The general shocks everyone by bringing up Aleight as a candidate for king, a former enemy soldier. The general informs everyone that Aleight was not just a soldier, but one of the sons of a governor, and was instructed in the particular area of leadership. Aleight himself is reluctant to receive the throne, but is forced to when word comes that the capital city is under attack. He slips into his newfound position comfortably, and starts preparing everyone to evacuate. Dakota and the Dragonguards race to the walls of the city, and are shocked to see the destruction already wreaked. They fight tooth and nail, but are forced to retreat with the fleeing citizens as their city burns to the ground.
The homeless people journey to the coastal city of Nulla under the command of Aleight and the general. Their trek across the country is long, almost six months, and tests the emotional and physical stamina of all of the people. Some decide to break off and start anew elsewhere, some simply gave up hope and stopped walking;others struggled to hold a hope in their hearts that they would one day have a home again. Dakota encourages her husband to keep going, and to trust God, even when most of the people accuse him of the death of an overexerted child. They finally reach Nulla, with dead hopes restored to life. Dakota discovers that she’s pregnant with their first child, and takes leave from the Dragonguards. The story ends with a faint promise of hope for Misáraeh from God in the future.
The Last Generation
Proposal: I propose a fiction book of the science fiction/fantasy genre that will have Christian aspects and ideas incorporated into an original adventure that will enthrall those that read it. This book will be the first of a four part installment that will begin with a young girl walking into an unknown world, changing it forever, and end with her descendants finishing what she started. This book will show the meaning of dedication and leadership, reveal the intensity behind loyalty and courage, and tell of the hurts, pain, and difficulty experienced while setting one’s life according to God’s Will, all while divulging a intricate tale.
Form: Paperback, 100,000 words
Audience: I perceive the buyers to be:
Christian or secular teens who are eager for an original fantasy/science fiction book
Teens who think that they must be specially equipped with knowledge and/or talents in order to follow God’s Will and call.
Young adults or adults who desire to follow God’s Will, but believe they missed their chance to serve Him.
This book is geared toward teens and young adults but does not exclude adults and pre-teens.
Rationale: In the past few years, the hunger in teens for stories that were unreal, fantastical, and simply non-believable has grown into an enormous demand for more books that will take one’s imagination to places it’s never gone. Secular authors recognized this hunger and immediately started writing more science fiction and fantasy to quench their ravenous readers. Some Christian authors have also recognized this demand, and have broke the mold of Christian fiction by writing books of this genre, but more Christian writers need to be reaching the next generation with Christian truths, and one way to reach them is through this genre of books. The Last Generation will give this tough crowd the tales they want, while helping them learn important values and what it’s like to serve God – for real.
Qualifications: I am a first-time author, but I took several extra English and writing courses in high school, and am currently studying to be an English major with a minor in Creative Writing.
I have also had one-on-one experience with other teenagers and young adults who, like myself, enjoy the science-fiction/fantasy genre, and have collected information on what they desire most in a novel, observed the topics of the books they read, and have asked them their ideas of the perfect novel. I have many ongoing sources that I can use in the future when it comes to writing this series.
Marketing Research: There are two books similar to my topic:
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis (C.S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. 1950)
Summary: In the never-ending war between good and evil, The Chronicles of Narnia set the stage for battles of epic proportions. Some take place in vast fields where the forces of light and darkness clash. But other battles occur within the small chambers of the heart, and are equally decisive. At the core of each of the seven books in the chronicles is the magnificent lion Aslan--the powerful high-king whose wisdom guides all. Journeys to the ends of the world, fantastic creatures, betrayals, heroic deeds, and friendships won and lost all come together in an unforgettable world of magic. So open the door and enter a new world (Christianbook.com).
Difference: Mine has fantastical creatures and battles, but takes a more personal journey with the characters, seeing how they make their decisions, the struggles they go through, and the relief and joy and regretful heartache once they’ve made their decision.
Dragonspell by Donita K. Paul (Random House 2004)
Summary: Once a slave, Kale is given the unexpected opportunity to become a servant to Paladin. A small band of Paladin's servants rescue Kale from danger but turn her from her destination: The Hall, where she was to be trained. Feeling afraid and unprepared, Kale embarks on a perilous quest to find the dragon egg stolen by the foul Wizard Risto (Christianbook.com).
Difference: Mine is more in-depth and personal with the plot and the characters.
Distinctives: The following will make my book even more appealing:
A pronunciation guide in the back of the book
Five pages of discussion questions to do with friends or family
Promotional and Marketing Ideas: I have several ideas to help promote this book, and am aware of my responsibility as the author to help in this regard.
1.) Website promoting book and series – possibly start a public forum
2.) Visits to bookstores and libraries for readings and discussions
3.) Public speaking opportunities
4.) Sneak-peeks to upcoming books in series
5.) Donate a handful of books to choice libraries – for good circulation
Manuscript Status: A two page synopsis follows this proposal. I could have the manuscript ready in nine to twelve months.
Synopsis
Dakota O’Neill, a fifteen year-old girl with a sad past and a future that doesn’t look too bright, suddenly finds herself at a foster group home in the city of Alliance, Nevada after being reported for things that were not her fault by her last set of foster parents. Facing her problems with suppressed emotions and a hardened heart, Dakota reluctantly attends Alliance High, with the promise to herself that she would never get close to anyone again.
A few weeks into the school year, she meets the bubbly Charity and her overconfident friend, Reece, and saves a boy from getting beat up by two grown men. A week after helping the boy, she is pursued by one of the two men. She runs as fast as she can, but suddenly finds herself in another world, with no explanation as to how she got there.
Dakota sees things there that she never would have believed before. An ever-purple sky, three moons that are most visible during the day, feathery birds ranging from bug-size to behemoth size, dragons, giant, canopy-like trees, strange creatures that live in both the air and the water. There is simply no end to the unfamiliar. Dakota discovers that she landed in a very militaristically-minded country that is at war with its greatest enemy.
Dakota, while being taken on an orientation of the main building of the capital city, makes the mistake of touching one of seven colored stones on display, said to be Cinneia’s last line of defense in their time of greatest need. She drops the smallest stone, slightly cracking its shimmering pale green exterior. She puts it back, hoping no one notices her mistake, and continues on like nothing ever happened.
The next day, she is shown the animal nurseries and stables, which holds creatures that Dakota has never seen in her life. She meets a young dragon that can’t fly or talk (she also discovered that dragons can usually physically speak when they’re 2 or 3.) and has been considered handicapped. She instantly bonds with the dragon, whom she names Aerhan, after her older brother who disappeared when she was 11, and eventually, over a few months, teaches him to speak and fly.
Six months after Dakota meets Aerhan, the head general over all of the militaristic divisions and branches of the country picks her out from a crowd of people, and asks her to come with him. He tells her of the status of their country, and that they desperately need aid in fighting. He tells her that he believes in a God who’ll deliver them and help them in their greatest time of need; that his God had pointed Dakota out to him. He tells her of a legendary branch of the military, a special branch, designed specifically to protect the city and it’s people, whose time has come to be summoned again. He appoints Dakota the head of this division, the Dragonguards, a team of seven people and seven dragons. The general then tells her that this is the beginning of the last generation of the Dragonguards.
Dakota initially struggles with this responsibility, and keeps protesting that she isn’t the right person for the job. She can’t fight well, can’t ride a dragon very well at all after several attempts, has trouble making split-second decisions, and has never led anything or anyone in her life. She must first gather six others, along with six dragons. To her surprise, six teens that she knew from Alliance High, including Charity and Reece, show up looking lost and confused. A few days later, all of them somehow find their dragon; whether it be by the birth of a newborn or the retirement of an old farm dragon. Within two weeks, Dakota has everyone she needs.
The Dragonguards begin their training in flying, fighting, diplomacy, culture, and stealth in preparation for an upcoming attack of the enemy. They are also instructed by the general himself about the power and love of God, and how He can save us from harm, if we accept him. They learn that this belief is not prominent in the country anymore, and are often discriminated for believing it. One of the Dragonguards rejects it. Meanwhile, Dakota happens upon the realization with the aid of a friend that she is from and was born in this world. She finds out her mother is the queen, who was forced to marry the king’s son after her husband was murdered. Dakota learns that her mother sent her and her brother with her husband’s brother and his wife to live in a separate world, the world that Dakota knew. Dakota meets with her birth mother and finds out this information, but is forced out by her mother’s husband, and threatened.
Shortly afterwards, Misáraeh starts to endure attacks from all parts of the borders, and the Dragonguards are called on their first mission to help. They fight battle after battle, seemingly swatting away an endless stream of attacks. They are eventually called back to the capital city to stay on guard and protect the people there.
By this time a year and a half has passed since Dakota first laid foot in this country, and the Dragonguards are taken aside by the general and asked a hard question. He shows them their lives back in Alliance, their school, friends, and family. He even shows Dakota a home that wasn’t consumed by fire, a home where her parents were still alive and her brother had come home that one day. He asks all of them, in private, if they would like to return home, to the places that they’ve dreamed of returning to, instead of serving God and Misáraeh in the war. He presents to them a choice that will change their lives drastically in either way, with no judgment against them on what they choose.
Dakota struggles enormously, wanting desperately to go back to the family she’d lost so many years ago, to live like a normal, happy teenager, and not one that had been hurt and scarred so many times. With great longing in her heart she declines the offer, feeling that even though her mind wanted her family back, her heart was here, serving God. The other Dragonguards choose likewise.
The next day, the Dragonguards are sent to make an attack on a weak spot in the defenses of the enemy country. Dakota is knocked off of Aerhan during the battle, and falls within the walls of the city they’re attacking. She is captured, and thrown into a cell. Her cell guard is a man named Aleight, a young soldier who doesn’t treat her as roughly as the others do, and who always has a guarded expression. Dakota notices the way he looked disapprovingly at his superiors who promoted the beating of the prisoners, and his attitude toward the captives. When the day comes that she is scheduled to be interrogated, Aleight breaks her out and leads her out of the city, stopping dead in his tracks just fifteen feet away from the wall. Dakota persuades him to go with her, that he can defect and help her country fight for what is right. He concedes, and goes back to Misáraeh with her.
Over a period of three months, Aleight is thrown in prison by the king while Dakota protests his imprisonment, Aleight is released from the prison and set in active duty with the Neiran (firebird) Division by command of the general, and Dakota is reunited with her brother who she hasn’t seen in seven years who’d been in Misáraeh since the day he disappeared.
Two years later, when Dakota is nineteen, she and Aleight get married. Three weeks later, the corrupt king is killed in battle, with no successors or qualified candidates. A diplomatic battle ensues within the walls of the city over who is qualified. The general shocks everyone by bringing up Aleight as a candidate for king, a former enemy soldier. The general informs everyone that Aleight was not just a soldier, but one of the sons of a governor, and was instructed in the particular area of leadership. Aleight himself is reluctant to receive the throne, but is forced to when word comes that the capital city is under attack. He slips into his newfound position comfortably, and starts preparing everyone to evacuate. Dakota and the Dragonguards race to the walls of the city, and are shocked to see the destruction already wreaked. They fight tooth and nail, but are forced to retreat with the fleeing citizens as their city burns to the ground.
The homeless people journey to the coastal city of Nulla under the command of Aleight and the general. Their trek across the country is long, almost six months, and tests the emotional and physical stamina of all of the people. Some decide to break off and start anew elsewhere, some simply gave up hope and stopped walking;others struggled to hold a hope in their hearts that they would one day have a home again. Dakota encourages her husband to keep going, and to trust God, even when most of the people accuse him of the death of an overexerted child. They finally reach Nulla, with dead hopes restored to life. Dakota discovers that she’s pregnant with their first child, and takes leave from the Dragonguards. The story ends with a faint promise of hope for Misáraeh from God in the future.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I love to write...does anyone love to read?
Yeah, what the title says. I love to write, I just really wish more people loved to read. It's depressing how many people just despise reading and anything to do with books! I need someone to read my stuff and tell me if it's weird or funny or really inspirational or just plain freaky or if I need to consider another line of work! D: Anybody out there want to be my official "taste tester"? Please??
Okay..anywho.. another weird little blurb that I wrote for CWG. As usual, comments welcome.
We are a people without a country. We live everyday wondering whether or not we will live to see tomorrow. Ever since that scientist Carl Silentia experimented with the plant life here, we have been cut off from the rest of society, considered nothing more than casualties. It started with the unexplained deaths at the Silent Point, previously Omaha, the capital of the former state of Nebraska. Hundreds had suddenly died at 9:27 am August 16th; there were no explanations, no calm investigations, only instant panic, and a single surviving scientist standing in the midst of it all.
No one bothered to ask any questions; they simply quarantined the area along with a 100 mile radius of populated land, and told us to stay where we were until further instructed. It wasn’t long before they broadcasted a newscast declaring to the nation of America that our area, callously dubbed Silentia by the media, was a hopeless cause. About a week afterwards, we received news that they were building a wall around our “hopeless cause” that was to be guarded around the clock, so that nothing and no one could get in or out.
Soon after that, our power was cut off. There were no delivery trucks coming in to bring us food, water, or fuel. We were abandoned by our own people and left to fend for ourselves. We knew just as much as they did about the Silent Point and the deaths, yet in running safely away from their fear, they left us to face it on our own. We drew together in our common cause, the few of us that were left. They no longer call us Americans; before the communications died, they referred to us as the “Silentians”.
In the past few years our small group of fifteen has found more survivors of the Point Effect, the occurrence, the unknown cause of death that struck us. It has only happened three times in the past ten years; once when Carl Silentia doomed us all, the second time was five days after the initial Point, which wiped out most of the population of the 100 mile radius, and the third time was three years ago, when we had managed to build a new, independent society. The third Point only killed a select few, but still rattled us and made us realize that we were far from being safe from the danger. The worst part was that we knew nothing of our invisible enemy, that we have no way or means of striking back, or even defending ourselves.
We struggle to live our lives everyday, and find ourselves looking over our shoulders in fear. Some of out children have not known freedom from the clutches of fear; they have not been able to know what being safe is. We have known nothing of the outside world, which used to be proud to call us their brothers and sisters, but rejected us at a moment’s notice. We have all lost some family, some have lost all family. Those of us who remain hope and pray that we aren’t the last generation; we hope that we will be the ones who survive until the end. We are a people without a country, a world without a purpose.
Okay..anywho.. another weird little blurb that I wrote for CWG. As usual, comments welcome.
We are a people without a country. We live everyday wondering whether or not we will live to see tomorrow. Ever since that scientist Carl Silentia experimented with the plant life here, we have been cut off from the rest of society, considered nothing more than casualties. It started with the unexplained deaths at the Silent Point, previously Omaha, the capital of the former state of Nebraska. Hundreds had suddenly died at 9:27 am August 16th; there were no explanations, no calm investigations, only instant panic, and a single surviving scientist standing in the midst of it all.
No one bothered to ask any questions; they simply quarantined the area along with a 100 mile radius of populated land, and told us to stay where we were until further instructed. It wasn’t long before they broadcasted a newscast declaring to the nation of America that our area, callously dubbed Silentia by the media, was a hopeless cause. About a week afterwards, we received news that they were building a wall around our “hopeless cause” that was to be guarded around the clock, so that nothing and no one could get in or out.
Soon after that, our power was cut off. There were no delivery trucks coming in to bring us food, water, or fuel. We were abandoned by our own people and left to fend for ourselves. We knew just as much as they did about the Silent Point and the deaths, yet in running safely away from their fear, they left us to face it on our own. We drew together in our common cause, the few of us that were left. They no longer call us Americans; before the communications died, they referred to us as the “Silentians”.
In the past few years our small group of fifteen has found more survivors of the Point Effect, the occurrence, the unknown cause of death that struck us. It has only happened three times in the past ten years; once when Carl Silentia doomed us all, the second time was five days after the initial Point, which wiped out most of the population of the 100 mile radius, and the third time was three years ago, when we had managed to build a new, independent society. The third Point only killed a select few, but still rattled us and made us realize that we were far from being safe from the danger. The worst part was that we knew nothing of our invisible enemy, that we have no way or means of striking back, or even defending ourselves.
We struggle to live our lives everyday, and find ourselves looking over our shoulders in fear. Some of out children have not known freedom from the clutches of fear; they have not been able to know what being safe is. We have known nothing of the outside world, which used to be proud to call us their brothers and sisters, but rejected us at a moment’s notice. We have all lost some family, some have lost all family. Those of us who remain hope and pray that we aren’t the last generation; we hope that we will be the ones who survive until the end. We are a people without a country, a world without a purpose.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
One down!! Just...five more...to go...
Okay, as promised, here is my CWG lesson 24!
Whose Eyeglasses?
Point of View
1.) Rewrite the first scene (250 to 500 words) for a mystery story in first-person point of view.
A. “Who could’ve done this?” I murmured to myself as I crossed my trembling arms and leaned against the wall across from my locker; or, what used to be my locker. I rolled my eyes and sighed deeply, just as I’d done many times after I had discovered my books in shreds and my belongings crudely spray-painted, thrown to the floor like they were meaningless garbage. There was never a person I met throughout my life that didn’t like me, so why was someone doing this to me now?
I turned, and in a flurry of anger, drove my fist into the brick wall beside me. Pain hurtled through my wrist and traveled well up into my arm, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know why the person trashed my locker. With a scoff, I stared at my stuff all over the floor of the hallway; I felt my face growing red as the anger inside me rose.
Without warning, something gently touched my shoulder. “Hey, calm down. It was probably just a random hit.”
I woke up out of my mounting resentment and turned toward the familiar voice. My old friend, Charity Jenkins, had evidently caught word of what happened. I looked down at her encouraging expression.
“Hey, Charity.” I took a breath and did my best to look like I had it all together. “How’s it going?”
She nodded slightly and gave me a small knowing smile; her teeth glared white against her dark skin. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?”
“I’m dealing with it!” I sighed at Charity’s “Yeah, right” look and ran a hand through my thick hair. “Okay, maybe I’m not, but come on! What do you expect?”
“Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?” Charity’s brown eyes drilled holes into mine.
I nodded; that little spark of anger was still there. “Alright, then. What do you suggest we do?”
Ignoring my sarcastic tone, Charity pointed to something within a crowd of students that were gathered around…me.
Charity headed for the crowd and dove into it. I stood stunned, watching all of the kids who in turn were staring at me. This is awkward…
I felt a nudge against my shoulder; I instinctively whirled around to tell the person to watch where they were going. Charity’s friend, Dakota O’Neill, stood next to me. I closed my mouth and swallowed the words I had almost thrown in her face. Dakota was a shy girl, but that was understandable because she was new to the town. What I didn’t understand was the fact that she rarely said anything.
“Hey Dakota,” I said, turning my back to her.
“I know who did it.” A whisper barely touched my ears.
I jerked around. “What did you-…?”
Dakota opened her mouth, but stopped, eyes wide, as she crumpled to the floor in a heap.
2.) Rewrite the scene, using third-person limited viewpoint.
A. Reece McCauley stared at the mess that littered a small section of the hallway. Papers with notes he’d written and books for his many classes were scattered left and right; his locker door had been ripped off of its hinges and thrown to the floor. With a groan, Reece crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving the convincing illusion that he had it all together, when in truth, he was about to flip out.
Pictures of friends were torn in half and crumpled, the football magnet that made its home on his locker door was on the floor; red spray paint covered everything to a point beyond recognition. Reece clenched his fist and resumed gazing hard at the destruction; he sensed movement around him, but that didn’t matter.
Without warning, Reece whirled around and punched the brick wall he had been leaning against with a fierce rage. He inhaled sharply as he drew his hand back, and diverted his eyes down to his defaced belongings on the floor. He could feel his face growing red as the anger built up. Whoever did this was asking for it.
He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and a soft voice filled the air. “Hey, calm down. It was probably just a random hit.”
Waking up out of his trance, he turned around to face the familiar voice. His best friend Charity Jenkin’s soft, brown face filled his vision. His heart lifted a little at the sight of her concerned expression; many years of friendship with her taught him that she would always stick by him, no matter what.
“Hey, Charity.” He drew in a breath, trying to look composed. “How’s it going?”
Charity nodded and gave him a small smile that said she didn’t believe him. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?”
A flare of anger jumped up in Reece; Charity also knew how to push his buttons. “I‘m dealing with it!” He protested. With a sigh at the doubtful look on Charity’s face, he ran a hand through his fiery red hair. “Okay, so maybe I’m not, but come on,” He threw his hands up. “What do you expect?”
“Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?” Charity looked at him seriously.
Reece finally gave in. “Alright then,” He said in a more than sarcastic tone. “What do you suggest we do?”
Charity gestured to her left, where a crowd of students stood clamoring and gaping at the destroyed locker. Reece blinked in surprise; where had they come from? They were all staring at him.
Charity left Reece’s side and strode straight into the mass of kids. Reece stood paralyzed. What should he do? Follow Charity?
He felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder; he instantly jumped back in surprise. Dakota O’Neill, a slender girl with bleach blond hair stood next to Reece, her gray eyes on him. A chill went down Reece’s spine at the sight of the girl who had just moved into town. There were some rumors that she had a criminal record, and that her goal was to burn down the school (which some kids wouldn’t mind). He shook off the thoughts; Charity had befriended Dakota, so she couldn’t be that bad.
“Hey Dakota,” He said, turning back to view the crowd.
A whisper that sounded more like a hiss met his ears. “I know who did it.”
Shock coursed through him at the comment. He whipped his around to see Dakota. “What did you-…?”
Dakota inhaled, then opened her mouth to speak; she suddenly went rigid, her eyes widened, and she fell to a heap on the floor.
3.) Then write the same scene using an omniscient viewpoint.
A. He had to make sure he had enough time. Without time, there was no pulling this off. He jogged down the hallway, his bag full of necessary supplies. He looked around nervously as he pulled a huge pair of clippers out of his bag. Time was one supply that he didn’t have much of. He had to get the job finished, or he wouldn’t get his reward.
Dakota O’Neill strode through the hallways, taking her own sweet time to get back to her class. She didn’t want to be here, she never did; why would she want to be four hundred miles from her real home? She sighed and shoved her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. There were so many people here, so many who thought she was a murderer or something. Dakota hated it. Just because she had gotten into trouble one time didn’t mean she was a criminal mastermind.
She rounded the corner of the hallway, but soon stopped in her tracks. Someone was down at the other end of the long hallway, ripping papers and books out of a locker. Dakota squinted, trying to see what exactly the person was doing. She backed behind the corner of the wall and peeked around it. She exhaled sharply; she recognized him!
He backed up and admired his work. There! It was a masterpiece! The lanky figure grinned as he shook the canister of spray paint and squirted one last blast onto the locker door. “Finally, that hotshot Reece McCauley will get his!”
Dakota’s heart skipped a beat at the guy’s violent outburst. What could he possibly have against Reece? Everybody liked him; as far as Dakota knew, there wasn’t a single person in the school who had a grudge against Reece. She breathed slowly and deliberately. I’ve got to warn him.
Reece McCauley stared at the mess that littered a small section of the hallway. Papers with notes he’d written and books for his many classes were scattered left and right; his locker door had been ripped off of its hinges and thrown to the floor. With a groan, Reece crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving the convincing illusion that he had it all together, when in truth, he was about to flip out.
Pictures of friends were torn in half and crumpled, the football magnet that made its home on his locker door was on the floor; red spray paint covered everything to a point beyond recognition. Reece clenched his fist and resumed gazing hard at the destruction; he sensed movement around him, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Charity Jenkins pushed her way through the crowd that was increasing in size. Word had made it all across to the other side of the building where she was having her chemistry class that Reece’s locker had been sacked. She had to get to Reece before his temper got the best of him.
She emerged on the other side of the river of students; before her was a mess that looked like Reece’s locker exploded. She quickly scanned the area and picked out Reece. She was just in time. He was holding his wrist to his chest and his face was turning a queer shade of brick red.
She walked up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Hey, calm down.” She nodded toward the disarray. “It was probably just a random hit.”
She watched Reece blink a few times, then finally grin in recognition. “Hey, Charity,” He took a deep breath; his shoulders slumped as if he’d just lost a battle. Charity’s heart melted at the sight. She hated seeing her friend like this.
Reece cleared his throat. “How’s it going?” It took him some effort to curl his lips into a smile.
Charity restrained herself from just giving him a big hug. She was pretty sure that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate her doing that in front of all of the students. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?” She felt kind of mean, but she knew she had to get him out of it, somehow.
Reece’s green eyes flashed at her, but subdued themselves immediately. “I’m dealing with it!” His fierce look was quickly chased away by uncertainty. “Okay, so maybe I’m not, but come on,” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you expect?”
If we were the only ones here, all I would expect of you would be to tell me how you really feel. Charity tried to catch his gaze, and transfer her underlying message. “Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?”
Reece rolled his eyes and put on his sarcastic tone that he was all too fond of. “Alright then, what do you suggest we do?”
Charity looked over into the crowd and saw the principal wading through. She gestured to the crowd, signaling for Reece to follow her. She headed off to catch up with the principal, if anything; she could help them get everything sorted out.
Dakota hesitated as she reached for Reece. She had to tell him; but as far as she knew, Reece would just bat her off like a fly and wouldn’t believe her. Summoning her will, she set her finger down on his shoulder. To her surprise, he whirled around almost immediately. She stepped back slightly. The hard expression on his face softened when realized it was just her. “Oh… hey Dakota.”
She took a deep breath, and looked around; she hoped no one would hear her. “I know who did it.”
Reece jerked around to face her once more. “What did you-…?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but an enormous pain struck her from the back. All of her muscles stiffened, and she fell to the floor. The last thing she saw was the shocked look frozen on Reece McCauley’s face. I didn’t get to tell him…
Whose Eyeglasses?
Point of View
1.) Rewrite the first scene (250 to 500 words) for a mystery story in first-person point of view.
A. “Who could’ve done this?” I murmured to myself as I crossed my trembling arms and leaned against the wall across from my locker; or, what used to be my locker. I rolled my eyes and sighed deeply, just as I’d done many times after I had discovered my books in shreds and my belongings crudely spray-painted, thrown to the floor like they were meaningless garbage. There was never a person I met throughout my life that didn’t like me, so why was someone doing this to me now?
I turned, and in a flurry of anger, drove my fist into the brick wall beside me. Pain hurtled through my wrist and traveled well up into my arm, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know why the person trashed my locker. With a scoff, I stared at my stuff all over the floor of the hallway; I felt my face growing red as the anger inside me rose.
Without warning, something gently touched my shoulder. “Hey, calm down. It was probably just a random hit.”
I woke up out of my mounting resentment and turned toward the familiar voice. My old friend, Charity Jenkins, had evidently caught word of what happened. I looked down at her encouraging expression.
“Hey, Charity.” I took a breath and did my best to look like I had it all together. “How’s it going?”
She nodded slightly and gave me a small knowing smile; her teeth glared white against her dark skin. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?”
“I’m dealing with it!” I sighed at Charity’s “Yeah, right” look and ran a hand through my thick hair. “Okay, maybe I’m not, but come on! What do you expect?”
“Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?” Charity’s brown eyes drilled holes into mine.
I nodded; that little spark of anger was still there. “Alright, then. What do you suggest we do?”
Ignoring my sarcastic tone, Charity pointed to something within a crowd of students that were gathered around…me.
Charity headed for the crowd and dove into it. I stood stunned, watching all of the kids who in turn were staring at me. This is awkward…
I felt a nudge against my shoulder; I instinctively whirled around to tell the person to watch where they were going. Charity’s friend, Dakota O’Neill, stood next to me. I closed my mouth and swallowed the words I had almost thrown in her face. Dakota was a shy girl, but that was understandable because she was new to the town. What I didn’t understand was the fact that she rarely said anything.
“Hey Dakota,” I said, turning my back to her.
“I know who did it.” A whisper barely touched my ears.
I jerked around. “What did you-…?”
Dakota opened her mouth, but stopped, eyes wide, as she crumpled to the floor in a heap.
2.) Rewrite the scene, using third-person limited viewpoint.
A. Reece McCauley stared at the mess that littered a small section of the hallway. Papers with notes he’d written and books for his many classes were scattered left and right; his locker door had been ripped off of its hinges and thrown to the floor. With a groan, Reece crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving the convincing illusion that he had it all together, when in truth, he was about to flip out.
Pictures of friends were torn in half and crumpled, the football magnet that made its home on his locker door was on the floor; red spray paint covered everything to a point beyond recognition. Reece clenched his fist and resumed gazing hard at the destruction; he sensed movement around him, but that didn’t matter.
Without warning, Reece whirled around and punched the brick wall he had been leaning against with a fierce rage. He inhaled sharply as he drew his hand back, and diverted his eyes down to his defaced belongings on the floor. He could feel his face growing red as the anger built up. Whoever did this was asking for it.
He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and a soft voice filled the air. “Hey, calm down. It was probably just a random hit.”
Waking up out of his trance, he turned around to face the familiar voice. His best friend Charity Jenkin’s soft, brown face filled his vision. His heart lifted a little at the sight of her concerned expression; many years of friendship with her taught him that she would always stick by him, no matter what.
“Hey, Charity.” He drew in a breath, trying to look composed. “How’s it going?”
Charity nodded and gave him a small smile that said she didn’t believe him. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?”
A flare of anger jumped up in Reece; Charity also knew how to push his buttons. “I‘m dealing with it!” He protested. With a sigh at the doubtful look on Charity’s face, he ran a hand through his fiery red hair. “Okay, so maybe I’m not, but come on,” He threw his hands up. “What do you expect?”
“Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?” Charity looked at him seriously.
Reece finally gave in. “Alright then,” He said in a more than sarcastic tone. “What do you suggest we do?”
Charity gestured to her left, where a crowd of students stood clamoring and gaping at the destroyed locker. Reece blinked in surprise; where had they come from? They were all staring at him.
Charity left Reece’s side and strode straight into the mass of kids. Reece stood paralyzed. What should he do? Follow Charity?
He felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder; he instantly jumped back in surprise. Dakota O’Neill, a slender girl with bleach blond hair stood next to Reece, her gray eyes on him. A chill went down Reece’s spine at the sight of the girl who had just moved into town. There were some rumors that she had a criminal record, and that her goal was to burn down the school (which some kids wouldn’t mind). He shook off the thoughts; Charity had befriended Dakota, so she couldn’t be that bad.
“Hey Dakota,” He said, turning back to view the crowd.
A whisper that sounded more like a hiss met his ears. “I know who did it.”
Shock coursed through him at the comment. He whipped his around to see Dakota. “What did you-…?”
Dakota inhaled, then opened her mouth to speak; she suddenly went rigid, her eyes widened, and she fell to a heap on the floor.
3.) Then write the same scene using an omniscient viewpoint.
A. He had to make sure he had enough time. Without time, there was no pulling this off. He jogged down the hallway, his bag full of necessary supplies. He looked around nervously as he pulled a huge pair of clippers out of his bag. Time was one supply that he didn’t have much of. He had to get the job finished, or he wouldn’t get his reward.
Dakota O’Neill strode through the hallways, taking her own sweet time to get back to her class. She didn’t want to be here, she never did; why would she want to be four hundred miles from her real home? She sighed and shoved her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. There were so many people here, so many who thought she was a murderer or something. Dakota hated it. Just because she had gotten into trouble one time didn’t mean she was a criminal mastermind.
She rounded the corner of the hallway, but soon stopped in her tracks. Someone was down at the other end of the long hallway, ripping papers and books out of a locker. Dakota squinted, trying to see what exactly the person was doing. She backed behind the corner of the wall and peeked around it. She exhaled sharply; she recognized him!
He backed up and admired his work. There! It was a masterpiece! The lanky figure grinned as he shook the canister of spray paint and squirted one last blast onto the locker door. “Finally, that hotshot Reece McCauley will get his!”
Dakota’s heart skipped a beat at the guy’s violent outburst. What could he possibly have against Reece? Everybody liked him; as far as Dakota knew, there wasn’t a single person in the school who had a grudge against Reece. She breathed slowly and deliberately. I’ve got to warn him.
Reece McCauley stared at the mess that littered a small section of the hallway. Papers with notes he’d written and books for his many classes were scattered left and right; his locker door had been ripped off of its hinges and thrown to the floor. With a groan, Reece crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving the convincing illusion that he had it all together, when in truth, he was about to flip out.
Pictures of friends were torn in half and crumpled, the football magnet that made its home on his locker door was on the floor; red spray paint covered everything to a point beyond recognition. Reece clenched his fist and resumed gazing hard at the destruction; he sensed movement around him, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Charity Jenkins pushed her way through the crowd that was increasing in size. Word had made it all across to the other side of the building where she was having her chemistry class that Reece’s locker had been sacked. She had to get to Reece before his temper got the best of him.
She emerged on the other side of the river of students; before her was a mess that looked like Reece’s locker exploded. She quickly scanned the area and picked out Reece. She was just in time. He was holding his wrist to his chest and his face was turning a queer shade of brick red.
She walked up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Hey, calm down.” She nodded toward the disarray. “It was probably just a random hit.”
She watched Reece blink a few times, then finally grin in recognition. “Hey, Charity,” He took a deep breath; his shoulders slumped as if he’d just lost a battle. Charity’s heart melted at the sight. She hated seeing her friend like this.
Reece cleared his throat. “How’s it going?” It took him some effort to curl his lips into a smile.
Charity restrained herself from just giving him a big hug. She was pretty sure that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate her doing that in front of all of the students. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?” She felt kind of mean, but she knew she had to get him out of it, somehow.
Reece’s green eyes flashed at her, but subdued themselves immediately. “I’m dealing with it!” His fierce look was quickly chased away by uncertainty. “Okay, so maybe I’m not, but come on,” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you expect?”
If we were the only ones here, all I would expect of you would be to tell me how you really feel. Charity tried to catch his gaze, and transfer her underlying message. “Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?”
Reece rolled his eyes and put on his sarcastic tone that he was all too fond of. “Alright then, what do you suggest we do?”
Charity looked over into the crowd and saw the principal wading through. She gestured to the crowd, signaling for Reece to follow her. She headed off to catch up with the principal, if anything; she could help them get everything sorted out.
Dakota hesitated as she reached for Reece. She had to tell him; but as far as she knew, Reece would just bat her off like a fly and wouldn’t believe her. Summoning her will, she set her finger down on his shoulder. To her surprise, he whirled around almost immediately. She stepped back slightly. The hard expression on his face softened when realized it was just her. “Oh… hey Dakota.”
She took a deep breath, and looked around; she hoped no one would hear her. “I know who did it.”
Reece jerked around to face her once more. “What did you-…?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but an enormous pain struck her from the back. All of her muscles stiffened, and she fell to the floor. The last thing she saw was the shocked look frozen on Reece McCauley’s face. I didn’t get to tell him…
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