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“If you can make one person listen to you, you can make the world hear you.”

~Anthony Kong

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Tuesday, March 22, 2011

(No Title)- help would be appreciated

Prologue

      “Jaylen! Stop! We only want to talk to you,” one of the men called.
        I kept running and didn’t reply.
        Yeah, right, I thought, you two showed up and said that my “father” sent you to collect me, you must not have done your homework or else you would have known that my father has been dead for ten years.
        I took a sharp left into the alleyway that I knew so well and darted into Lizzy’s shop before my pursuers even turned the corner. I leaned against the door, breathing hard. Lizzy was right; track really did pay off. While I was waiting for my breath to return I pressed my ear against the door and listened as their pounding footsteps faded into the distance. What creeps. They had been waiting for me as I walked out of school today and I took off before they even finished getting the first sentence out of their mouths.
        “Are you alright dear?” I turned to meet Lizzy’s familiar blue eyes tinged with worry, and her blonde locks framing her face.
        “I’m fine,” I lied. I didn’t need to worry her; she was still frazzled over mom.
        Mom.
        “It’s for the best, honey,” the female officer soothed my ten-year-old self as they hauled my screaming mother away, “Your mother’s sick and she needs help. Look on the bright side, you get to spend some time with your aunt Lizzy,” she continued on about how much fun I was going to have with my father’s sister. Lizzy, and how I could visit my mother in the hospital, but I wasn’t listening. I was eavesdropping on two nereby officers’ conversation, “Poor girl,” one officer said, then shook his head in pity, “First she loses her father in a plane crash, now her mother goes off the deep end,” his partner nodded his head in agreement, then they got in their squad car and left.
        That was the day my mother was taken to the crazy house. She had always been a bit eccentric, but it had gotten worse after my father died when I was six, just four years before my mother cracked.
        I remember that day well.
        It was a warm summer day when my mom decided that we needed to go shopping for next year’s school clothes, so we hopped in the car and drove to the small store I town. We had been sifting through the racks for a little bit when my mom stopped dead and starred across the aisle at a man who was glancing our way.
        My mother whispered a word that seemed to strike a terrible fear into her heart; she seemed so utterly terrified that even I was beginning to become afraid.
        Then she started screaming.
        “Stop that man! Stop him! He’s here to take Jaylen! He is going to take my baby! Somebody stop him please,” she cried hysterically.
        Some clerks rushed to see what the commotion was about, but when they looked to where my mother was pointing to where the man had been standing, there was no one there. He was gone. Vanished.
        I’m sure you know how it went from there.
        But that one word, that one word my mother whispered. The one that scared her so bad; it still haunts me to this day.
        Faery.

Preditor and Prey: Prologue

Prologue

       “Please, no, miss, I beg of you,” the ruby lipped, Caribbean blue eyed, platinum haired, fifteen year old looking, faerie cried dramatically.
      
        I sighed; I absolutely, positively, hate faerie jobs.
      
       Yes, sadly, faeries do exist. And no, they are not those good natured, woodsy, creatures that the fairy tales you were told as a child led you to believe. In truth, they are dramatic, mischievous, over-emotional, and downright vicious when they want to be.
      
       I rolled my eyes and leveled my glock at her, making it obvious that her ploy hadn’t worked.
      
       “Freeze,” I commanded coolly, “Under strict orders from P.A.F., I must either bring you in or terminate you here and now,”
      
       The faerie growled and dropped her glamour revealing clear blue cats eyes, porcelain skin, and a perfectly white, perfectly pointed, perfectly deadly, set of teeth.
      
       “So,” I continued, completely unfazed, this is a regular occurrence, “Which will it be?”
      
        The faerie lunged and knocked me over; I guess I had my answer.
      
         “Termination it is then,” I grunted, reaching into my boot for my iron switchblade.
      
         I grabbed it, flicked it open, and slashed at her arm, cutting her just enough so that so that the indigo liquid that was her blood started to trickle down her arm.
      
       She immediately shrieked in pain and rolled off of me, got to love iron. I jackknifed to my feet and scrambled over to my gun that had skidded across the forest floor in the midst of the struggle.
      
       Picking it up, I checked to make sure that all my iron bullets were loaded, they were, then I took aim and fired a single shot, leaving the faerie motionless on the ground with a new hole directly between its eyes.
      
        Re-holstering my glock, I walked a few paces away and unclipped my walkie-talkie, “Mission accomplished, Stavros,” I said, “Requesting cleanup crew and pick up.  Coordinates 10-73 Hangman’s Wood,”
      
        “Request granted, ETA five minutes,” my commanding officers voice responded.
      
       Another job well done.
      
       My name is Kira, I’m sixteen years old, and I’m a Paranormal Assassin.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Angels Falling Down: Chapter Two

Chapter Two
Fallon




       
After the sun began to rise, I put my book into my knapsack along with the notes for my chemistry exam and the essay for history, and started to get ready for school. I dressed in black jeans slung low on my hips, a tight fit black t-shirt, a slim-fit hoodie, and black and blue Nikes, stopping only to run a quick brush through my long hair, apply a bit of mascara, and put some black eye-liner around my eyes. Once I was done, I took minute to examine myself in the mirror before I slung my knapsack over my shoulder and walked to the kitchen.

Many people think I’m Goth because of the way I dress, which is understandable considering how much black I wear, but I’m not, I’m one of those few people who refuse to be stereotyped. I guess the main reason that I wear so much black is because I’ve yet to completely get over my parent’s murders, and the way they came about. They’ve yet to catch the killer, and after what happened that night, what I remember of it that its,  it’s hard for me to believe they ever will.

Without giving Mary or Ben so much as a passing glance, I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowel on the counter and began my three mile hike to school.

        The thing about going to school in Bellum, Colorado is that it’s a rule that any kids above grade five, who live less than three miles from school, have to walk. I’m a fast walker, but it still takes me around half an hour to get there.

I walked through the doors of Bellum High, home of the Avenging Angels, with my head held high, and ignored the sympathetic looks that people always threw my way. As always not one of my friends waited for me by my locker-they world have to exist first. Not that I wouldn’t mind one of course. I used to have friends, just like I used to have parents, but when my mom and dad died, I guess my friends just didn’t know what to do or say around me anymore. On the other hand, I didn’t really make it easy for them- I couldn’t really tell them the truth about what had happened, and, unlike the police, they saw right through my lie, so they thought I didn’t trust them.

I sighed, opened my locker, and tossed my bag in.  I grabbed the materials for my morning classes- Lit., Calc, and Choir- and hurried to homeroom with Mr. McKee.

Mr. McKee, well, he’s not exactly what you’d call a role model, and by that I mean that the last time there was a school wide drug search, McKee was MIA by the time the dogs made it through the door, and was spotted on some back road in his van.

“Welcome to the fun zone Falon,” Mr. McKee greeted from his perch on top of his desk.

        “Morning, Mr. McKee,” I replied.

McKee ran his hand through his dark curly locks, and laughed like I’d just told the funniest joke making his blue eyes, as diailated as they were, sparkle, “Fall, when are you going to start calling me Mark like everyone else?”

“It’s only two weeks into the school year sir,” I answered.

“Still.”

I felt my lips twitch, “When you show up to work sober,” I paused and sniffed- yup, definitely more than a little booze.

He attempted to look surprised as well as offended- and failed miserably at both, “I am sober!”

At that, a quiet girl named Hannah looked up at him from her book and rolled her eyes, “Please, Mark, drop the act. We all know you’re higher than a kite.”

Mr. McKee tried again and his words slurred slightly, “Well I’m not drunk,”

He hopped off his desk and attempted walking around to prove his point and was surprised to find himself stumbling and having to grab onto his desk for support.

We all just raised an eyebrow and Mark muttered something under his breath about ‘annoying smartass kids’ as the bell rang.

The first part of the day passed slowly and when the bell rang to end choir I was the first one to burst out of the room. After grabbing my lunch I bolted to the doors and escaped to the outside.

       

 

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Angels Falling Down: Chapter One

Chapter One
Fallon




I’m back in my bedroom, in my old house. Once again  I’m 10 years old. I pull the covers up over my head as I hear the creak of the floor boards. Someone creeps up the stairs and pauses for a second at the top, as if they were considering something. Eventually I hear him turn right and slink pass my door into my parent’s room.
       
      Gathering my courage, I slither out from under the covers, tip-toe it down the hall and crouch near the door; I can see everything but I’m helpless to stop any of it. And so I sit there and watch as the shadowy figure pulls a huge knife out from the sheath on his belt, and I keep watching as he slits my parent’s throats one by one.
       
         Only after the deed is done do I let out a small cry, whipping my parent’s murder around, and focusing all of his attention on me. Slowly, the killer advances on me, taking his time; we both know I’m not going anywhere, that I’ve got nowhere to run, and we both know I’m next. He’s only three feet away and I begin to shake, I try to scream but my voice has gone mute.
       
        Suddenly, the killer is knocked to the ground by what I could only be described as a shadow, and, in the same instant, I’m swept up in the strong arms of my rescuer. With my body still trembling, I lift my head to meet the most beautiful stormy grey eyes I have ever seen. Shocked, the only words I can offer to the boy who saved my life is a whispered thanks before my world fades to black.
       
         I bolt upright in my bed gasping for air, and sink back against the headboard as the nightmare fades. Only I know it isn’t just a nightmare; seven years ago that nightmare was my reality, and now it is a memory that has haunted my dreams ever since.
       
        “Falon! You screamed; it was another nightmare wasn’t it? You know someday you’re going to have to get over it, I mean, come on, your seventeen for Pete’s sake,” Mary said unsympathetically as she barged into my room.
       
         Mary and Ben Fellson are my foster parents; they took me in after my parents died when I was 10. Mary is actually quite pretty with her blonde hair and blue eyes, but I’m sure that almost everyone can tell that she doesn’t like me that much. Ben, who is still quite handsome for a man in his mid thirties, has blonde hair, hazel eyes, and he seems to be kind to everyone except me. I’m sure that they’re both counting down the days until I turn eighteen and am out of their hair of good, and to tell you the truth, I am too.
       
        “I’m fine Mary,” I said dryly, “And as soon as graduation rolls around me and my nightmare will be long gone,”
       
        She nodded, as if it seemed great to her and exited my room.
       
        I flopped back against my pillows and blew out a puff of air. After I had blacked out seven years ago, I had woken up in a hospital surrounded by police officers all of which wanted to know what happened to my parents. What could I say? That I saw a shadowy figure had slit my parents throats and, just when he was about to kill me as well, a boy, who I have almost no memory of what so ever, knocked him down with a shadow, and carried me outside? I don’t think so. That would have bought me a one way ticket to the nearest crazy house. So, I lied. I told the police that I hadn’t seen a thing, that when I woke up I walked into my parents room where I found them dead, and then I when I went outside to get help, I passed out. They bought it, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t a lie I could tell to get me out of having to live with the Fellsons.
       
         Reaching over to my bedside table, I grabbed a new book I had been reading, crossed the floor, and curled up on the window seat. I knew I wasn’t going to get anymore sleep tonight.
      



Friday, March 4, 2011

The Darkest Truths: Chapter 10

Chapter 10

       I whirled around to find James leaning casually against the caverns entrance.

          “You’re back,” I stated.

          “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “But not for long.”

          “What do you mean,” Maya inquired uncharacteristically.

          “I need to go get my sister, Kiate,”

          “And what, may I ask, are we supposed to do while you’re out doing this? We can’t stay here- they’ll find us for sure,” J.J asked snippily.

          James seemed unfazed by her tone, “You’re right, you can’t stay here. But I’m sure that Rayven will have no trouble finding you all another place to hide until I return.”

          “Why can’t we just go home,” Sam asked innocently

          “You can’t go home- it isn’t safe. You don’t want to put your parents in danger do you,” James answered gently.

          Sam nodded, fighting back tears, and who could blame him? We all wanted to go home just as much as he did.

          “Any more questions,” James asked tiredly.

          Everyone shook their heads.

          “Alright then, goodbye,” and with that he left.

          As soon as James had disappeared from sight Katie burst into tears. I rushed over and wrapped my little sister in my arms, gently rocking her back and forth while I rubbed her back.

          “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked.

          “I-I-I wa-want m-my mommy!” Katie sobbed, and buried her face in the crook of my neck.

          “Shhh,” I cooed, “I want mom too, and I want to go home just as bad as you do, honey, but we can’t.”

          “I know,” she whispered.

          After a while she finally cried herself to sleep, I laid her gently down, and went to join the others.

          We all sat in a circle, and started brain storming a list of places we could hide-out in until James returned with Kiate.

          “Where can we go,” Jace said to no one in particular.

          “I know a place,” an unknown voice answered.

          I turned one more to find yet another figure blocking the caves entrance. He was about our age, but the creepy part was that he looked almost exactly like Nick. The only difference was that his eyes were an electric blue instead of Nick bright green ones. I had a feeling that I knew exactly who this was, as impossible as the theory seemed, and my fears were only confirmed by Nick’s thunderstruck whisper.

          “Andrew?”