Dear Bloggie,So these are the chapters. Hope you like them. please comment if you read this. I could really use the criticism so don't be nice for the sake of not hurting my feelings or something.
~XOXO,
Carrie
Chapter One
The priest’s voice becomes white noise in the back of my mind as I listen to the steady beating of rain against the stained glass panes.
I’m tired and restless seeing as I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in almost a week. Someone in the crowed lets out a shrill sob. I clench my fits and bite my lip, holding back the anger; they have no right to cry. They didn’t hold her frail hands and pretended everything was going to be ok. They never watched her go from energetic to lifeless within a matter of weeks. They sure as hell weren’t there as she inhaled her last breathe.
If anyone should be crying it is my father, but even he doesn’t deserve it. He wasn’t there either.
I glance over at my Dad sitting besides me on the pew. His lifeless gaze is on her coffin as if they were the only two in the room. He doesn’t cry or even pout, but instead his face stays in the same apathetic demeanor he has carried for the last fifteen years of my life. I can feel him shut down; I’m losing him too.
This wasn’t how it was destined to be. Mom wasn’t doomed to contract cancer, especially terminal cancer. She was supposed to watch me grow up, cry when I left for college and on my wedding day, coo over the grandchildren I would give her. She was meant to live.
Why didn’t she try? Why did she give up so easily? Why her? Why, why, why?
But I already know the answers to half those questions. It was too late. The cancer had already progressed past the point of no return. She didn’t believe the experimental treatments would work. She said they would only make things worst.
I focus on playing with my thumbs, anything to make me forget why I’m here. Suddenly a tear drips onto my hand. I hadn’t even realized I was crying, but as the hot salty tears slide down my cheeks I can’t seem to stop. I beg myself to be strong, but I can’t find the will. I was strong for her, but now it doesn’t matter. I’m wheezing, unable to catch my breath. My chest is sizzling, it’s just too much.
Before I can react a manicured hand slips through mine, giving it a light squeeze. Crissy looks at me, her eyes saying she’s there, she understands. She doesn’t. Her parents are sitting two rows behind us healthy and alive. But still, her hand warms my clammy palm. My sobs turn to dry heaves before ending. I don’t look around at the multitude of eyes that will be filled with pity. I don’t need their pity.
I think of the countless things that are about to change. I’ll never again hear her laugh or see her smile. I will never be awoken to birthday pancakes or be comforted when I have a nightmare. I will never have her shoulder to cry on when the world seems to be against me.
Life without her is worthless.
I push back those dark thoughts. She wouldn’t have wanted it this way. She would have wanted us to move on and be happy. But what do we have to be happy about? My mind becomes a movie; fifteen years worth of film flip through until I hit play on my favorite.
“Mommy! Mommy! Look!”
My screams echo through the empty beach. I run towards my Mom, pointing at the slide and pulling her with me. She laughs and follows. I climb the slide, my bravado suddenly disappearing as I peer down at the ground. I’m stuck at the top. Too scared to climb down, but also too scared to slide forward.
“Mommy…?” I whimper.
“Baby, you can do it!” my Mom encourages.
I gaze onto the ocean. The waves and the shore collide with a deafening roar. I know those waves are ten times more dangerous than the slide I am so intimidated by, but still I feel the longing to swim in them.
My mother’s face takes on a giant grin and I know that my own must look determined. I sit down, grasping the hot metal for dear life. I hesitate. I think about telling my Mom I’m not ready – that I’m only three and have plenty of time to work up the courage. However, at the same time I desire more than anything else to make her proud. I want to show her I’m a big girl that can swim and go on slides.
My mind is made up. I glance towards the ocean one more time before letting go. It goes by quickly. Before I know it I’m being lifted into my Mom’s proud arms. She spins me around as we giggle.
“Mommy, I did it!” I boast.
“Yes you did! You’re my big girl.” Her voice is full of bravo but her eyes are sad.
I nuzzle my head into her neck, inhaling her sweet flowery scent. “Don’t worry Mommy, I’m not that big. I’m not leaving you.” I don’t know why, but those seem to be the words she wants to hear.
“Oh, I love you baby. I’m not leaving you either. I’m right here forever and always, I promise.”
“Forever.” I echo as she carries me towards the house we rented on the beach for the summer.
Crissy squeezes my hand again as the organ begins to play. Mass is over and it’s time for my final goodbye. I’m not ready. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. She said forever and always. Forever isn’t over yet, this isn’t fair. We made a deal, I wouldn’t leave her if she didn’t leave me. Why did she have to go? Why?
I can feel the dry heaves beginning again as I descend the church steps. Two vehicles catch my eye. One is the limo Dad rented for us, the other is a hearse. I shuffle into the limo immediately before I can see anymore.
The burial goes as planned until they lower the casket; Dad begins to cry. I bury my nails into my palms and ignore him, looking at everything and anything besides him or the coffin. Then I see something.
There, on the other edge of the cemetery under a willow tree, stand two creatures. The first has an avocado completion, its pointy chin, large pure onyx eyes, and a dark long mane giving it an alien like appearance. The other has the same dark eyes and tresses, but its skin instead a frostbitten blue. Both creatures were startling and beautiful. Hideous and breathtaking. They are the makings of dreams and nightmares.
Their gaze interlocks with mine for but a moment before I hear Crissy whisper my name. I pear at her and notice she’s motioning towards my hands. I look down, having forgotten that I am holding a Violet, my Mom’s favorite flower. I step forward and throw it onto her casket, whispering my final reluctant goodbye. When I glance towards the willow, the creatures are gone.
Chapter Two
Everything is energy. No time, no space. No skin and bones hold me together, but still I can see, taste, smell, and feel. My senses are heightened. I taste the bitter tang of darkness – crawling under my skin, trying to grasp my core. I feel the scorch of light as if I were the sun itself. The sweet smell of spring hangs in the air, invisible breezes tickling my bare cheeks.
I sense everything. The flow of breathe and spirit mixed with the flutter of skirts as we dance in a ring. I feel at home here, in this limbo between the real world and the spiritual plane. I’m nowhere and everywhere. I can be somebody and nobody. The supreme powers which govern the world course through my veins. Suddenly my vision becomes lucid – just in time for me to be propelled into utter darkness.
“Ever?” calls a familiar voice as I follow it into the shadows. Just as I begin to believe that the darkness is endless the ground disappears sending the world crashing.
“Miss Moore!” This voice is shrill, hanging only an octave lower than a scream unlike the one that had first broken through my dream. I raise my head off the desk, quickly wiping away a drop of drool as the class breaks into a fit of laughter. Crissy shoots me a look of pity, her eyes promising to slide me a piece of gum when Mrs. Hoyt isn’t looking. Whenever I’m stressed or embarrassed I chew gum, I guess you could say it soothes my nerves.
Mrs. Hoyt’s bird like stare continues. Her crimped blonde hair gives her the mad scientist impression while her beady stare is reminiscent of a vulture watching its prey before it swoops in for the kill. She’s holding a yardstick in her hand, her rigged posture forewarning problems for me. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve fallen asleep in her class therefore I understand her anger, but she wasn’t exactly sympathetic the first time either. I guess I kinda respect her for it though. With most of the teachers I’m treated like a fragile china doll. It’s all “Be careful what you say around her, she may cry.” or “Don’t push to hard for missing work, she might snap.” or even “Ohh you’re tired? Maybe you should go home and rest.”
Still, as Mrs. Hoyt stares me down, not caring that I’ve been having a hard time sleeping since the funeral seeing as the house is so quiet. Or that my dad took off the afternoon of the funeral because he couldn’t even take time away from work for his own daughter. No, Mrs. Hoyt doesn’t know those things – not that she would care. All she knows that I, Ever Moore, dared fall asleep in her second period Spanish class and now must be publicly humiliated as punishment. In her eyes it doesn’t matter if I’m “fragile” or that I’m scared and alone. All she cares about is that if I ever by chance go to Spain I will be able to explain to them how to set a table or that I want to eat flan. Who the hell would want to eat flan any way? It’s soft and wet and swishy and it feels like inners.
“Mrs. Hoyt? Sorry to interrupt but we have a new student I would like of you to meet.” Principal O’Brian says, unknowingly saving me from Mrs. Hoyt’s wrath. I can still feel her beady eyes burning into my skull so I keep my head down as he continues. “Class, this is Kellen le Fey. He just moved here from Chicago. I hope you all make him feel welcomed.”
A current of energy runs through the class – the new student has caught their attention. Next to me Crissy shifts in her seat, reaching into her backpack for her emergency lip-gloss. Mrs. Hoyt’s gaze finally leaves me as she skims the classroom for an empty seat, once again her gaze resting where I sit. “Welcome Mr. le Fey, why don’t you take a seat in the back next to Ever? You can borrow her book for now; maybe she’ll finally concentrate on her work instead of daydreaming.”
Upon hearing my name I grudgingly pear at the new kid, my jaw almost hitting the desk as I lose complete control of breathing.
He’s undeniably gorgeous with onyx black waves that fall just shy of his shoulders, his perfectly sculpted face giving him a godlike air. A loose lock cascades before of his shinning dark green eyes, long thick lashes making his every blink appear as if it were the flutter of a butterfly. Clad in jeans and a black shirt and jacket stands a long, lean and dare I say sculpted body. He smiles, his brooding eyes sparking with amusement as someone in the class lets out a wolf whistle.
“Dibs!” Crissy whispers almost too low for me to hear never mind anyone else, but still he looks toward our direction, a cockiness now in his step as he walks down the aisle of desks. I sink into my seat looking the other way, the contradiction of his shy eyes and the smug smile instantly turning me off. Or maybe it’s just because – as Crissy likes to remind me – I have social issues and tend to shy away from the remainder of humanity.
But I swear that as he takes his seat, if I pear from the corner of my eye and concentrate, I can see another side of him, gleams of light hiding beneath his flawless cream complexion. Nonetheless there is an error with my observation; just as fast as I catch the glimpse of this other side, it’s gone.
“Gire a la página de veinte y cinco de actividad de lectura.” Mrs. Hoyt says, class falling back into its usual pattern as Principal O’B leaves, excluding the whispers and stares that are now aimed in my direction that is. Great, Spanish has just become my favorite class.
He can’t believe it.
Finding her was easy, he doesn't even need to search the crowed of faces for hers, she’s like a light. He’s merely the moth to the flame. But at the same time he’s surprised, she’s not what he expected. She’s so human.
When the teacher assigns his seat adjacent to hers she finally peers up, her jaw dropping. He can’t help but smile. He’s been known to spur that reaction in many females, but none of them were quite as obvious about it as she is. The girl beside her calls dibs, a flush rising in her cheeks when she sees he’s watching them.
He takes his seat and is about to introduce himself personally when she looks away, building a mental wall between them. He can feel her hesitance. He’s not use to this. Most females fall over themselves to merely catch a glimpse of him, nevermind sit beside and speak to him. Just peering around the room he can sense everyone else acting as he anticipated. The females are intrigued, even the teacher. On the contrary the males are inhospitable, as suspected. When an alpha male is in the presence of beta males, they normally react with jealousy.
He’s not worried though.
She’ll cooperate in the end; she has to. No matter if she likes it or not she’s one of them. One of us.
He can sense that she’s already changing. It’s not obvious yet, but he can see her glamour wearing out. The Seelie Queen did an excellent job concealing both of their immortal sides. But she’s gone.
He catches her eye, the corner of his lips twisting into a smile. “Kellen le Fey,” he says extending his hand. She stares at it as if it where diseased before whispering “Ever Moore,” pulling down the sleeves of her sweatshirt and sliding to the edge of her seat so she can be as far away from him as possible.
Inside his ego dims ever so slightly, him not understanding what is wrong. He’s never felt like this before; he’s never felt so unsure of himself. He’s Mr. Confidence. Mr. Answers. Mr. Been-Called-Arrogant-By-More-Than-A-Few-Females.
The priest’s voice becomes white noise in the back of my mind as I listen to the steady beating of rain against the stained glass panes.
I’m tired and restless seeing as I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in almost a week. Someone in the crowed lets out a shrill sob. I clench my fits and bite my lip, holding back the anger; they have no right to cry. They didn’t hold her frail hands and pretended everything was going to be ok. They never watched her go from energetic to lifeless within a matter of weeks. They sure as hell weren’t there as she inhaled her last breathe.
If anyone should be crying it is my father, but even he doesn’t deserve it. He wasn’t there either.
I glance over at my Dad sitting besides me on the pew. His lifeless gaze is on her coffin as if they were the only two in the room. He doesn’t cry or even pout, but instead his face stays in the same apathetic demeanor he has carried for the last fifteen years of my life. I can feel him shut down; I’m losing him too.
This wasn’t how it was destined to be. Mom wasn’t doomed to contract cancer, especially terminal cancer. She was supposed to watch me grow up, cry when I left for college and on my wedding day, coo over the grandchildren I would give her. She was meant to live.
Why didn’t she try? Why did she give up so easily? Why her? Why, why, why?
But I already know the answers to half those questions. It was too late. The cancer had already progressed past the point of no return. She didn’t believe the experimental treatments would work. She said they would only make things worst.
I focus on playing with my thumbs, anything to make me forget why I’m here. Suddenly a tear drips onto my hand. I hadn’t even realized I was crying, but as the hot salty tears slide down my cheeks I can’t seem to stop. I beg myself to be strong, but I can’t find the will. I was strong for her, but now it doesn’t matter. I’m wheezing, unable to catch my breath. My chest is sizzling, it’s just too much.
Before I can react a manicured hand slips through mine, giving it a light squeeze. Crissy looks at me, her eyes saying she’s there, she understands. She doesn’t. Her parents are sitting two rows behind us healthy and alive. But still, her hand warms my clammy palm. My sobs turn to dry heaves before ending. I don’t look around at the multitude of eyes that will be filled with pity. I don’t need their pity.
I think of the countless things that are about to change. I’ll never again hear her laugh or see her smile. I will never be awoken to birthday pancakes or be comforted when I have a nightmare. I will never have her shoulder to cry on when the world seems to be against me.
Life without her is worthless.
I push back those dark thoughts. She wouldn’t have wanted it this way. She would have wanted us to move on and be happy. But what do we have to be happy about? My mind becomes a movie; fifteen years worth of film flip through until I hit play on my favorite.
“Mommy! Mommy! Look!”
My screams echo through the empty beach. I run towards my Mom, pointing at the slide and pulling her with me. She laughs and follows. I climb the slide, my bravado suddenly disappearing as I peer down at the ground. I’m stuck at the top. Too scared to climb down, but also too scared to slide forward.
“Mommy…?” I whimper.
“Baby, you can do it!” my Mom encourages.
I gaze onto the ocean. The waves and the shore collide with a deafening roar. I know those waves are ten times more dangerous than the slide I am so intimidated by, but still I feel the longing to swim in them.
My mother’s face takes on a giant grin and I know that my own must look determined. I sit down, grasping the hot metal for dear life. I hesitate. I think about telling my Mom I’m not ready – that I’m only three and have plenty of time to work up the courage. However, at the same time I desire more than anything else to make her proud. I want to show her I’m a big girl that can swim and go on slides.
My mind is made up. I glance towards the ocean one more time before letting go. It goes by quickly. Before I know it I’m being lifted into my Mom’s proud arms. She spins me around as we giggle.
“Mommy, I did it!” I boast.
“Yes you did! You’re my big girl.” Her voice is full of bravo but her eyes are sad.
I nuzzle my head into her neck, inhaling her sweet flowery scent. “Don’t worry Mommy, I’m not that big. I’m not leaving you.” I don’t know why, but those seem to be the words she wants to hear.
“Oh, I love you baby. I’m not leaving you either. I’m right here forever and always, I promise.”
“Forever.” I echo as she carries me towards the house we rented on the beach for the summer.
Crissy squeezes my hand again as the organ begins to play. Mass is over and it’s time for my final goodbye. I’m not ready. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. She said forever and always. Forever isn’t over yet, this isn’t fair. We made a deal, I wouldn’t leave her if she didn’t leave me. Why did she have to go? Why?
I can feel the dry heaves beginning again as I descend the church steps. Two vehicles catch my eye. One is the limo Dad rented for us, the other is a hearse. I shuffle into the limo immediately before I can see anymore.
The burial goes as planned until they lower the casket; Dad begins to cry. I bury my nails into my palms and ignore him, looking at everything and anything besides him or the coffin. Then I see something.
There, on the other edge of the cemetery under a willow tree, stand two creatures. The first has an avocado completion, its pointy chin, large pure onyx eyes, and a dark long mane giving it an alien like appearance. The other has the same dark eyes and tresses, but its skin instead a frostbitten blue. Both creatures were startling and beautiful. Hideous and breathtaking. They are the makings of dreams and nightmares.
Their gaze interlocks with mine for but a moment before I hear Crissy whisper my name. I pear at her and notice she’s motioning towards my hands. I look down, having forgotten that I am holding a Violet, my Mom’s favorite flower. I step forward and throw it onto her casket, whispering my final reluctant goodbye. When I glance towards the willow, the creatures are gone.
Chapter Two
Everything is energy. No time, no space. No skin and bones hold me together, but still I can see, taste, smell, and feel. My senses are heightened. I taste the bitter tang of darkness – crawling under my skin, trying to grasp my core. I feel the scorch of light as if I were the sun itself. The sweet smell of spring hangs in the air, invisible breezes tickling my bare cheeks.
I sense everything. The flow of breathe and spirit mixed with the flutter of skirts as we dance in a ring. I feel at home here, in this limbo between the real world and the spiritual plane. I’m nowhere and everywhere. I can be somebody and nobody. The supreme powers which govern the world course through my veins. Suddenly my vision becomes lucid – just in time for me to be propelled into utter darkness.
“Ever?” calls a familiar voice as I follow it into the shadows. Just as I begin to believe that the darkness is endless the ground disappears sending the world crashing.
“Miss Moore!” This voice is shrill, hanging only an octave lower than a scream unlike the one that had first broken through my dream. I raise my head off the desk, quickly wiping away a drop of drool as the class breaks into a fit of laughter. Crissy shoots me a look of pity, her eyes promising to slide me a piece of gum when Mrs. Hoyt isn’t looking. Whenever I’m stressed or embarrassed I chew gum, I guess you could say it soothes my nerves.
Mrs. Hoyt’s bird like stare continues. Her crimped blonde hair gives her the mad scientist impression while her beady stare is reminiscent of a vulture watching its prey before it swoops in for the kill. She’s holding a yardstick in her hand, her rigged posture forewarning problems for me. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve fallen asleep in her class therefore I understand her anger, but she wasn’t exactly sympathetic the first time either. I guess I kinda respect her for it though. With most of the teachers I’m treated like a fragile china doll. It’s all “Be careful what you say around her, she may cry.” or “Don’t push to hard for missing work, she might snap.” or even “Ohh you’re tired? Maybe you should go home and rest.”
Still, as Mrs. Hoyt stares me down, not caring that I’ve been having a hard time sleeping since the funeral seeing as the house is so quiet. Or that my dad took off the afternoon of the funeral because he couldn’t even take time away from work for his own daughter. No, Mrs. Hoyt doesn’t know those things – not that she would care. All she knows that I, Ever Moore, dared fall asleep in her second period Spanish class and now must be publicly humiliated as punishment. In her eyes it doesn’t matter if I’m “fragile” or that I’m scared and alone. All she cares about is that if I ever by chance go to Spain I will be able to explain to them how to set a table or that I want to eat flan. Who the hell would want to eat flan any way? It’s soft and wet and swishy and it feels like inners.
“Mrs. Hoyt? Sorry to interrupt but we have a new student I would like of you to meet.” Principal O’Brian says, unknowingly saving me from Mrs. Hoyt’s wrath. I can still feel her beady eyes burning into my skull so I keep my head down as he continues. “Class, this is Kellen le Fey. He just moved here from Chicago. I hope you all make him feel welcomed.”
A current of energy runs through the class – the new student has caught their attention. Next to me Crissy shifts in her seat, reaching into her backpack for her emergency lip-gloss. Mrs. Hoyt’s gaze finally leaves me as she skims the classroom for an empty seat, once again her gaze resting where I sit. “Welcome Mr. le Fey, why don’t you take a seat in the back next to Ever? You can borrow her book for now; maybe she’ll finally concentrate on her work instead of daydreaming.”
Upon hearing my name I grudgingly pear at the new kid, my jaw almost hitting the desk as I lose complete control of breathing.
He’s undeniably gorgeous with onyx black waves that fall just shy of his shoulders, his perfectly sculpted face giving him a godlike air. A loose lock cascades before of his shinning dark green eyes, long thick lashes making his every blink appear as if it were the flutter of a butterfly. Clad in jeans and a black shirt and jacket stands a long, lean and dare I say sculpted body. He smiles, his brooding eyes sparking with amusement as someone in the class lets out a wolf whistle.
“Dibs!” Crissy whispers almost too low for me to hear never mind anyone else, but still he looks toward our direction, a cockiness now in his step as he walks down the aisle of desks. I sink into my seat looking the other way, the contradiction of his shy eyes and the smug smile instantly turning me off. Or maybe it’s just because – as Crissy likes to remind me – I have social issues and tend to shy away from the remainder of humanity.
But I swear that as he takes his seat, if I pear from the corner of my eye and concentrate, I can see another side of him, gleams of light hiding beneath his flawless cream complexion. Nonetheless there is an error with my observation; just as fast as I catch the glimpse of this other side, it’s gone.
“Gire a la página de veinte y cinco de actividad de lectura.” Mrs. Hoyt says, class falling back into its usual pattern as Principal O’B leaves, excluding the whispers and stares that are now aimed in my direction that is. Great, Spanish has just become my favorite class.
He can’t believe it.
Finding her was easy, he doesn't even need to search the crowed of faces for hers, she’s like a light. He’s merely the moth to the flame. But at the same time he’s surprised, she’s not what he expected. She’s so human.
When the teacher assigns his seat adjacent to hers she finally peers up, her jaw dropping. He can’t help but smile. He’s been known to spur that reaction in many females, but none of them were quite as obvious about it as she is. The girl beside her calls dibs, a flush rising in her cheeks when she sees he’s watching them.
He takes his seat and is about to introduce himself personally when she looks away, building a mental wall between them. He can feel her hesitance. He’s not use to this. Most females fall over themselves to merely catch a glimpse of him, nevermind sit beside and speak to him. Just peering around the room he can sense everyone else acting as he anticipated. The females are intrigued, even the teacher. On the contrary the males are inhospitable, as suspected. When an alpha male is in the presence of beta males, they normally react with jealousy.
He’s not worried though.
She’ll cooperate in the end; she has to. No matter if she likes it or not she’s one of them. One of us.
He can sense that she’s already changing. It’s not obvious yet, but he can see her glamour wearing out. The Seelie Queen did an excellent job concealing both of their immortal sides. But she’s gone.
He catches her eye, the corner of his lips twisting into a smile. “Kellen le Fey,” he says extending his hand. She stares at it as if it where diseased before whispering “Ever Moore,” pulling down the sleeves of her sweatshirt and sliding to the edge of her seat so she can be as far away from him as possible.
Inside his ego dims ever so slightly, him not understanding what is wrong. He’s never felt like this before; he’s never felt so unsure of himself. He’s Mr. Confidence. Mr. Answers. Mr. Been-Called-Arrogant-By-More-Than-A-Few-Females.
It doesn’t matter, he tells himself.
Though his ego has been bruised he knows that no matter if she is attracted to him or not, that’s not why he’s here. She is the daughter of Morrighan. In the end she has a destiny to fulfill pass these four cold, concrete walls, not even in this world. A shudder flows through her body as if she can read his thoughts. With that it begins. The hourglass has been turned. As class drones on he can feel her humanity fleeting. The sands are slipping, sooner or later time - and sand - will run out.
1 comments:
Wow if I didn't know better I'd say you must be a young adult best selling author. The story was amazing. You don't have to worry about rude criticism all you'll recieve is praise. Please keep writing.
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