Writer's Not-So-Anonymous discussion

Hey guys! So this is my short story that won Wattpad's Dark Fantasy contest! We were given prompts and I used prompt 3: "I'll protect you. Even if I have to sacrifice myself" and I wrote a story with a certain amount of words allowed!

This is my short story, Many Lives, Many Deaths:

Running down halls, trying to outrun the black fog flooding toward me. It was a maze, the house was a maze, a labyrinth that threatened to trap me forever. There was no way out, no way to escape the killer in the fog.

I knew this had happened before. Happened a thousand times in the past and would happen a thousand times more in the future. That's what Alston had said, at least. I was trying to outrun fate. Outrun death.

I smashed into a hard body. Looking up, it was just Alston.

"Cassie," he said, grabbing my hand. "We have to leave. Now."

He pulled me along. I couldn't run, I couldn't breathe. I had no idea what was happening, who was hunting me. Why I was being targeted.

"Cassie!" Alston pulled me into an unlocked room, shoving his huge body against the door. "Cassie, listen to me." He cupped my cheeks in my hands. "When you open your eyes again, this will be like a dream to you. You'll have no idea that we have met. You'll forget about this, about me. I won't, but I swear to the Gods, I will find you and I will save you."

For a brief moment, I wondered who I'd be in my next life, what I would be. I was beautiful in this life, able to make human men fall to their knees in awe, but Alston was the only one I wanted. Cassiopeia, that was my name. What would be my next name? What would kill us in the next life?

I wrapped my shaking hands on his wrists. "Don't leave me." I feared that when we died, that was the end, I would never see anyone, anything, ever again. "Please, don't leave me."

He smiled sadly. "I'm not the one leaving. You are." He pressed his lips against mine, coaxing them open...

Please don't leave me...

I didn't understand what woke me first- the absence of light or the killer smell wafting from the corridor. I half-expected Mr. Mew to be laying next to me, tiny orange body curled into a ball, purring madly, but his spot in my bed was cold.

Slowly, I sat up, pulling the white comforter from my body and swinging my legs out of bed. Something in my gut squeezed. The hall light I usually kept on while I slept was out, and I knew for a matter of fact that it wasn't dead. I had just replaced it last night.

My feet flattened against the cold hardwood of the floor, and my bare legs erupted into goosebumps. It was cold in the house. I always had the heater on full blast. Shivers crawled up my spine. Something was different. I glanced at my alarm clock, but the red numbers that were usually displayed on it were black, dead.

Something was wrong.

I crept to the door. It was terrifying, not knowing what was on the other side. I regretted moving out of Zaritin, away from my parents, my family. But it wasn't like I was expecting this to happen. It wasn't like I thought this would happen to me.

Something was there.

My nightgown swished against my ankles, as soft as a whisper of wind. A bead of sweat rolled down my back. What was I doing? What if there wasn't anything out there? What if I was delusional, just like Ma and Fa had told me, mocked me. I was delusional. I saw things and heard things no one else ever would. I wasn't normal.

The metal knob of the door was ice cold in my palm. I swallowed, my ears straining, but whatever was out in the hall was silent. I tried to keep my breathing down, but it was so erratic, I felt like people a mile away could hear it.

Slowly, I clenched my hand around the knob, turning the metal slowly, so slowly, the blood rushing in my ears, my body shaking. If no one was really there, I was going to feel like a major fool.

The moment the door was open, I peered out into the dark hall. Nothing was there. I almost crumpled to my knees, but I forced myself to stand, to check the light, to make sure I really was alone.

The smell grew nastier as I slowly walked down the hall and toward the kitchen. My heart hammered away in my ribcage, threatening to burst out. Sounds came from the kitchen, like someone was eating. Was it the cat?

"Mr. Mew?" My whisper was loud in the empty hall and I cringed. The cat didn't respond. Was he using his litterbox? Maybe he was sleeping? "Mr. Mew?"

I stepped into the kitchen. Above the sink, one light swung from the cord, flickering ominously, casting the room in a dull, fluorescent glow. I looked at the counter and screamed.

What was on the counter was a huge, black mass, a distorted form that vaguely reminded me of a wolf. It most definitely was not a wolf, with that hunched back, those claws that could easily shred through bone and flesh, those glowing eyes... It was like a cross between a wolf and a man, a gargoyle and a wolf, something that wasn't supposed to exist.

And yet, there it was, glaring at me hungrily over the dead body of my cat, the counter smeared with blood and fur and guts. I felt my stomach lurch, threatening to spill. The beast looked at me; I looked back at it.

And then ran.

Something was nagging at me as I hurtled down the hall, a memory, a dream. I didn't know, but I got a sense of Deja vu as I hurtled down the hall, toward the door. The beast jumped down from the counter, the ground shaking as it made contact.

Mr. Mew... I was blinded by tears for a second before I whipped my arm across my eyes. That cat was the one thing I had brought with me from home, the one good thing I had, and now he was gone.

I swear to the Gods, I will find you and I will save you, a voice whispered, caressing my cheeks.

I tripped over Mr. Mew's litter box, cat feces and sand spilling out everywhere. It stuck to the soles of my feet as I limped past, ignoring the flash of pain burning up my shins. I could hear the beast gaining speed, it's rotten breath scalding my legs.

Something grabbed onto my wrist and yanked. I was pulled into my living room, and whoever had his grip on my arm let go, shoving the rolling white double doors closed, flipping the lock.

"That's not going to hold for long," he said, voice deep, smooth.

I stared. "W-who are you?"

He turned around to face me, back against the doors.

"Have we m-met before?" I couldn't see his face, couldn't see his expression when he responded.

"We've met before, Delphi."

"H-how do you know my name?" This was messed up, absolutely impossible. This was a dream, I would wake at any moment to Mr. Mew assaulting my face with his disgusting tongue.

He grabbed hold of my hand again, and we ran, out the other doors and to the balcony.

"It was Cassiopeia in your last life," he explained in low, hurried tones. "Delphi now. I promised you, I promised I'd save you." His eyes softened, voice quiet, almost a murmur. "Do you know what you are?"

"What?" What I was? I was a girl, duh. What was he, a cow in disguise?

"You're an oracle. Maybe... maybe there's a chance we can stop the curse."

The curse? "I-I don't know who you are, but you need to-"

He stepped closer to me, towering over me. "You have to believe me." His voice was tinged with desperation. "Me and you... We've met before, in another life-"

"I don't even know who you are!" My voice had risen, high-pitched and uncertain. My feet ached, my thighs screaming. That had to have been the most I've ever run before. Another life? Who was he kidding?

The clouds parted to reveal the brilliant moon, high in the sky, glowing down at us. His face was visible, a chiseled jaw, a tan face, the swords strapped to his back. His blue eyes seemed to glow.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"They call me Bastien in this life," he said. "I was Alston in my last." Something shadowy rose above his shoulders, flexing. I stared, my breath caught in my throat. "I am a Fallen angel."

"An angel," I repeated, my voice stunned. "You're an angel." Apart of my brain told me to trust him, to believe him. Because a part of me knew he was right, knew he spoke the truth. We had met before.

Listen, whispered a voice. Listen to him.

Well, that decided things.

His index finger stroked my cheek, leaving a trail of heat. "I told you before," he said, wrapping me in his arms, my cheek settled on his hard chest, covered in leather. Armor? "I'll protect you, Delphi, even if I have to sacrifice myself."

He took to the skies. Behind us, the beast screamed, glaring up with it's glowing eyes, bloody teeth bared. Run while you can, it seemed to yell. You can't escape.

I buried my face into Bastien's chest, letting him take me away, away from the one place I had called home, and away from the life I had known.

That’s amazing!!!! And u won a contest? Wowww!!!!

✨Emily✨{marauders version} wrote: "That’s amazing!!!! And u won a contest? Wowww!!!!"

Ahh, thank youu!! Yess, Wattpad hosts these contests and I still can't believe I won the first contest I've ever done.😭

wow wow wow, it looks so good!!!!!! AAAA LOVE IT

yasmin ☾ wrote: "wow wow wow, it looks so good!!!!!! AAAA LOVE IT"

AHHH TYSM BESTIE!!❤

CAN YOU LIKE FINISH IT PLS PLS PLS?! THAT TRANSPORTED ME TO ANOTHER DIMENSION

it was SO SO GOOD

kessaa (taylors version) wrote: "CAN YOU LIKE FINISH IT PLS PLS PLS?! THAT TRANSPORTED ME TO ANOTHER DIMENSION

it was SO SO GOOD"

Aw, tysm!! I think I might, it was actually meant to be a short story but I'll probably expand it bc, well, one word- BASTIEN😂

Here's the first chapter of my paranormal story on Wattpad called Boredom, Bodies, and Mind-Reading Boys

The day I killed my little sister, I was eighteen.

I swear it was by accident. I hadn't meant to do it, and yet, it still happened. I can't even tell you what happened; my mind stopped working. One moment I was playing tag with Kelsie, the next, my hands were covered in blood, my sister... motionless, pale, no longer giggling and running away. Maybe if she did run away she'd still be alive, but she hadn't, and now she was dead.

What happened next was a blur. I dropped to my knees next to my sister, pressing my shaking hand to her neck and feeling for her pulse. When there was none, I pinched her nose closed and, shoving aside my squeamishness, covered her mouth with mine, blowing air into her lungs and then pumping her chest. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate. Blood, blood was everywhere. On my white sweatshirt, on my sister's sundress, on the kitchen linoleum. I avoided looking too closely at the deep cut lining down half of my sister's face, avoided looking at her vacant eyes filled with terror.

When there was nothing else I could do, I sat back and stared.

My mind was empty. I could feel myself shooting far, far away from the nightmare, away from the two girls alone in the house, from the violent and unforgivable act. Fratricide. I think that's what it was called. I imagined calling 911 and getting hauled away. The quiet streets of my hometown would fill with sirens as the ambulance sped its way toward the hospital. The police car containing me would part ways from the ambulance then, making its way to the police station. I'd be locked behind bars, my face plastered to newspapers and the morning and night newscasts. Mom would be devastated, thinking she had done something wrong. They'd bring me to court and I'd be given a lifetime in prison. I'd be stuck wearing orange prison suits, eating disgusting mush disguised as food. I'd be alone.

Almost like a zombie took over my body, everything was mechanical as I quickly locked the doors and closed the curtains around the kitchen. I awkwardly lifted Kelsie's tiny body into my arms, my thin frame trembling as I staggered into the garage. I had to get rid of the evidence.

I left the house as it was before everything happened. I was numb to everything. Sweat beaded on my forehead, running into my eye. In the trunk was Kelsie. It was early morning, right before everyone woke up. I could do this, I had to do this. I had to play dumb, had to play ignorant and confused. I couldn't go to jail because there was no fucking way I killed my own sister. A part of me expected her to sit up, laughing, and pretend she was joking, but the drive to the river was silent and full of tension. I kept looking out the rearview mirror, convinced someone was trailing me, someone was watching me, someone knew what I had done.

I hadn't even changed out of my clothes for the day. I was so confused, so scared, and in denial. Nothing was adding up, there was a giant gap in my memory, and I found myself thinking about it again and again. Dissociative Identity Disorder? I knew that included gaps in the memory, but I wasn't so sure I had DID.

Arriving at the river, I pulled off the road and onto the dirt trail, driving down through the forest, my breath coming out in gasps. Chills ratcheted up my spine, cold fingers sliding down my back. This was just a dream, a nightmare, some sick delusion. It wasn't real! I fought the urge to scream. I wanted to just wake up, why wouldn't I just. Wake. Up?

Reaching the grassy bank of the water, I stopped the car. It took everything I had to step out of the red convertible, to crunch over the pebbles and loose twigs and to the trunk. I was only a little aware of the muttering emitting from my mouth. Delusional, I was delusional. I stared at a point in the car above my sister's body. What was I supposed to do now? I was no criminal mastermind, no evil genius. I was a high school girl, lost and alone. This wasn't real, wasn't real, wasn't real!

The cold air didn't bother me; I barely felt the wind. My hands were clammy as I lifted my sister from the car. A sob escaped my lips. What now, what now, what now? Why was I here? Why was I here? I was supposed to be in my house, watching over my sister before Mom got home from her shift at the grocery store. I was supposed to be studying for a chemistry retake, supposed to be avoiding people and sleeping in class and living each boring day again and again and again. I had wished for some excitement last night, tired of the boring life of the same expectations, same schedule, same responsibilities. Well, here was some excitement for sure.

I shuffled through the long grass reaching up from the soil to trip me. I'd pretend like this wasn't real, like I was acting, the camera crew wheeling around from everywhere to capture the moment. This was a show. A show. A show...

The splash of the manakin hitting the water was loud, too loud. I had managed to swing my arms back and forth, throwing the theatre prop toward the dock. Wasn't real, wasn't real, wasn't real... There was another splash and my head jerked up, shooting toward the moving shadow on the opposite side of the lake. What did they throw? Fishing? Was the person fishing? The splash was too big to be a fish, too loud, too... too real.

I hurled my body through the grass, tripping and stumbling. I slammed the trunk as I rounded the car and dove into the driver's seat. There was no one there, Cece, I told myself, hands shaking as I stabbed the key into the ignition and the engine roared. Just a dream, just a dream, that's all it was, a dream.

But stepping into the emptiness of the house wasn't a dream. Turning the shower water scalding wasn't a dream. It wasn't fake when I burned my wrist as I threw my bloody clothes into the fire in the pit. It wasn't a show when I dumped bleach all over the kitchen and attempted to cover my tracks. There was no camera crew, no screaming director, no other actors. It was just me and the big, empty house, and yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Watched and judged for my sins.

WOAH that's so good sis!!

Kay wrote: "WOAH that's so good sis!!"

TYY❤️❤️

that’s it im done my heart has left me and im about to cry

HOW DO YOU WRITE LIKE THAT

kessaa (taylors version) wrote: "that’s it im done my heart has left me and im about to cry

HOW DO YOU WRITE LIKE THAT"

LMAOO IDKK. I literally get ideas in my head and have to type them up soo... If I have to give you an answer, God. LMAOOO

no joke youre now one of my favorite authors

im putting you in my bio

kessaa (taylors version) wrote: "no joke youre now one of my favorite authors"

kessaa (taylors version) wrote: "im putting you in my bio"

LMAOO GIRL. Omg I love you already😂 Do you have Wattpad? That's where I post all my stories

now i do!!!!

also ur in my bio lol

kessaa (taylors version) wrote: "now i do!!!!

also ur in my bio lol"

LMAOO oh my God, I just saw that. YOURE AMAZING oml😂😂

You do!? What's your user?

honestly i forgot just a sec lol

kessaa (taylors version) wrote: "honestly i forgot just a sec lol"

Sure, and if you want you can add it to the socials topic! All my stories are on Wattpad and there are too many smh. I literally only have one completed😅

New story that I'm planning on getting published! I already wrote most of it out in a notebook and also have the rest of the story planned and the names of the book which will be a trilogy and a novella. This is called Dying Light!

CHAPTER ONE
MIRAI POV

Mirai slumped lower in her seat, her legs stretched almost towards the edge of the dais, her butt hanging off the throne. She didn’t understand why she had to sit for three blasted hours while her father, the king, handed out the punishments of several subjects for various, stupidly ridiculous reasons.

Mirai yawned for the third time in ten minutes, jaw creaking. On the opposite side of the king, her mother glared at her. Mirai ignored her-just like always. Her older sister snickered from her throne on the queen’s other side. The king ignored all of them, his gaze focused on the speaker in front of him.

“…two counts of attempted burglary,” the young captain of the guard, Morwen, was saying, his spine straight, hands behind his back, and not a blond hair on his pretty head out of place. “…cargo Aaun had shipped over for their stay, but he overturned in a trench when his horse was spooked by something and ran off the road…”

Mirai yawned again, her eyes fluttering as she sank lower in her seat. Great Iokia, she couldn’t feel her butt anymore. She rolled over onto one hip, hoping to regain feeling. Her mother’s sigh whistled through the throne room. Mirai sighed too, mocking, and was satisfied to hear her sister, Madeleine, echo her. The queen sniffed in annoyance, then Mirai mimicked her, and finally Madeleine.

“Okay, enough!” The king glared at his daughters, exasperated. Turning back to the man in chains kneeling in front of Morwen, he said, “Your sentence is two years in the dungeons. Even if you hadn’t stolen from the Aaunians, stealing is not tolerated. After you serve out your sentence, you’ll go back to Bual.” He nodded at the guards standing on either side of the prisoner and simultaneously, they grabbed his arms, dragging the man out.

It wasn’t unusual Mirai’s father to sentence prisoners to years in prison. With the number of Aaunians flooding in from across the Krahl Sea, the crime rate in Zava had grown. It wasn’t like they could kick the Aaunians out either; they were experiencing the severe drought that always popped up in Aaun every ten or eleven years and had to leave and dwell in the other three kingdoms until it was over, and the fear of Sun Sickness dissipated.

Mirai groaned, tilting her head to the left and cracking her neck before switching sides. She yawned, scratching her neck, wondering if she’d have time to take her horse out riding or if there were going to be trials and sentences to dish out for the rest of the afternoon.

“Is there something you needed, Princess?” Morwen asked with barely concealed contempt.

“Father,” Mirai said, ignoring him, “how much longer do we have to sit on these torture devices? I can’t feel my butt anymore. I think maybe you should start sentencing your prisoners to sit here for weeks at a time. That’d be a suitable punishment.”

Morwen made a noise of disgust and the queen hissed at her. “Mirai.”

“You must have a hard butt, Mother. Father. Tell me what the secret is. Is it iron? Do you have an iron butt? Do you forge it in fire?”

“Mirai,” the king warned. “Morwen, where is the next prisoner?”

“Yes, Morwen,” Mirai crooned, a corner of her lips lifted in a smirk. “Some of us do not have butts made of iron, you know.”

Madeleine snickered. “Guess it’s not hereditary,” she said.

“Your Majesty,” Morwen said, his voice tight with annoyance, “I’m sorry; I do not know what’s taking so long- “

“Can you feel your butt if it’s iron?” Mirai said, setting her elbow on her armrest and resting her chin in her palm.

“Does it not weigh you down, Mother?” Madeleine added innocently.

“Oh for Iokia’s sake, enough, you two,” the king said, rubbing his forehead. “Morwen, I do not have all day. Go see what the hold up is.”

Morwen bowed briskly and headed toward the gold double doors, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the shiny marble floor.

“I wonder- “

“Be quiet!” the queen screamed at Mirai, and she bit back a grin, exchanging smirks with Madeleine.

Two feet before Morwen reached the doors, they blew open, smacking into him and sending him slamming against the wall. They had opened like a gust of wind had brushed against them and they hit the walls behind them, softly, as if the sound was muffled by a cushion of air.

A tall pale man strode inside with a troop of masked men wearing helmets that obscured their faces coming in after him. Mirai was the first one to leap to her feet having spotted the dead guards out in the corridor as the strangers suddenly flooded in.

All of them wore red hosens that clung to the thick muscles of their legs, tight black tunics with jerkins paired with dark steel helmets. All except the two men in the front. The first man that had entered was tall and skinny, his skin sickly pale. He had a mess of black hair and black eyes that stared around the room with calculation. His companion was also tall with strikingly blond hair and cold, cruel blue eyes. He took in the room as fast as a blink, seeing the shocked guards still lined against the walls. Barking orders at his knights, he unsheathed the long, slightly curved sword from its sheathe on his hip, stabbing an unsuspecting guard right through the chainmail.
Then chaos erupted.

Mirai flipped two knives out of the sheathes taped to her legs under her dress, slashing at one knight and spinning around one of Morwen’s guards to slam a knee into another knight’s crotch, sticking her knife right into the man’s visor. A scream erupted out of him. Goal.

Making her way off the dais wasn’t hard as a wall of Morwen’s soldiers shielded them from view. But Mirai wanted the action. She wanted the power and the fear and the pain. Maybe, just maybe, her parents would be convinced of her talents. She didn’t need to be as regal and queenly as Madeleine- but she could still be the next queen.
Amid all the bloodshed and shouts, the clanging of swords, something caught her eye. Pulling her dagger out of a knight’s leg, she kicked him over, her eyes widening as she saw a flicker of black inkiness before it vanished again. Shaking her head, she passed her sister, neither of them looking at each other. It was a contest of sorts, for them. Only the best could be the next queen. But Mirai already knew that by being the youngest, she was set to rule in her sister’s shadow forever.

“Wilbur!” The man in charge walked through the mess of knights and toward the dais, both sides parting before him like he was some kind of god. They were afraid of him. “Wilbur, give me the lightstones. I know you have one of them, I know who you are.”

Mirai’s head whipped around, searching for her father’s reaction. He was standing up, his own sword drawn, taking a protective stance in front of the queen. It wasn’t necessary- Mirai and Madeleine were doing a good job deterring anyone from coming closer, and so were Morwen’s guards.

Besides, Queen Kavliana was the best swordfighter in Zava, Madeleine a close second. They didn’t call Kavliana the Tiger Queen for nothing.

Mirai stepped in front of one knight, knocking his sword arm up and plunging her knife in his chest. Arms clamped down on her arms from behind her and she gasped, the hard armor of whoever was holding her at bay cutting into her bare arms. The knight in front of her held one gloved hand against his stab wound, tearing the dagger out and flipping it over so the point was aimed right at her. Mirai’s heart thundering in her ears, she lifted both feet off the ground and slammed them into the knight in front of her, using the momentum to unbalance the one holding her. Using that to her advantage, she swung her legs back down, sending the man rolling over her back and crashing on the ground in front of her. She made quick work of slitting their throats before reclaiming her lost dagger.
Looking up, her breath caught in her throat. The blue-eyed man was staring straight at her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Noticing he had her attention, he smiled, a dimple popping in his cheek.

A devil.

His hand lifted, slowly, almost tantalizing in the way it moved. Then he pointed, right at her, and black tendrils burst from his hand, slamming right into her.

She screamed, suddenly blinded as she felt the force hammer into her body over and over again. She stumbled back, colliding sharply with someone. Gasping, she lurched forward again. She was defenseless. She couldn’t count on her sister to help her; wasn’t even sure she wanted her help.

“Princess!” Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close and trying to restrain her. “Princess, it’s me,” Morwen hissed in her ear.

“I can’t see!” she cried out. Her eyes stung. What was that inky tentacle? Was she blinded? She felt Morwen shift her behind him and she focused on rubbing her eyes to the point that her palms ached. Soon she could make out figures, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Morwen was engaged with a knight, his sword meeting him strike for strike. Mirai stared around, looking for the blue-eyed devil, and spotted him making his way behind his leader.

“Stop!” The queen stepped around Mirai’s father; her own long, sharp knife was drawn. “Akarandi, stop!”

Akarandi?

The man’s black eyes seemed to light up. “Well, I’d say this was a surprise, but I’m afraid I’d be lying. Kavliana, I knew you were hiding out in one of the alternate dimensions. It was just a matter of time until I figured out which.” The light in his eyes suddenly went out as he swiftly stepped aside, letting the guard who had tried to attack him fall on the devil’s blade. “We have a score to settle.”

Mirai darted away from Morwen and in front of Akarandi, her knives erect. “You’re not taking another step,” she spat before swinging an arm in a long arc toward his unprotected stomach.
His fingers shot out and blackness swarmed in front of his chest, deflecting the blade and breaking it into thousands of glittering shards.

He smirked at the princess. “Oh dear. I don’t think you belong here, little one.”

Mirai clenched her teeth. She wasn’t going to let this bozo win. “Go to hell.” She lunged forward with her other blade.

In one fluid movement he caught her arm and pulled her forward. He was surprisingly strong, and his long, pale fingers clamped onto her wrist as he spun around and launched her up, up, up.
Mirai screamed.

There was no other way to describe it. People weren’t supposed to fly, Mirai knew that, and yet there she was, soaring through the room and toward the doors, weightless. She finally came down to earth like a meteor, crashing into a knight, her right leg twisting and buckling before her entire body collapsed.

“Mirai!” Her father stared at Akarandi. The king’s glare could’ve killed.

Mirai groaned, clambering back to her feet, not letting her right foot hold her weigh. She started forward again, teeth clenched against the pain. Her eyes, her foot… What next?

“Give me the lightstones, Wilbur,” Akarandi was saying, his slick voice barely rising above the clash and clatter of swords. He cupped his hands together, a dark orb swirling around like ink, growing bigger and bigger. The light from the crystal chandelier above slowly faded as darkness crept into the room, an uninvited creature. Soon the light faded completely and Mirai really was left blind. “Give me the lightstones,” he whispered, “and I’ll let you go.” Even Mirai was smart enough to know how false that promise sounded.

Someone slammed into Mirai, sending her tumbling to the ground, a scream of pain bursting from her lips before being swallowed by the darkness. It was as if it blocked out all noise except for Akarandi’s smooth voice. Even the clash of swords faded. Weight pressed down on Mirai’s back before she could stand back up, pushing her into the stone.
Then the world exploded.

THERES MORE JUST A SEC IMA READ IT

no you cant leave me on that
that was evil
BUT SO SO GOOD AHHHH LIKE ALWAYS

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "no you cant leave me on that
that was evil
BUT SO SO GOOD AHHHH LIKE ALWAYS"

Aw, thanks so much girl!! I've been working on Dying Light for like 3 years now💀 I've already got the whole series planned out😂

im crying actually tears i dont think i expressed myself properly… YOU CANT LEAVE ME ON THAT!!!!!!!!!

do you have more lol i think im gonna die

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "im crying actually tears i dont think i expressed myself properly… YOU CANT LEAVE ME ON THAT!!!!!!!!!

do you have more lol i think im gonna die"

LMFAOO I DOOOO but it's not a complete chapter yet... Are you okay with that?

Iol give me whatever you have i just need more

CHAPTER TWO
MALCOLM POV

Malcolm looked past his bow at Deltar, grinning. His brother rolled his eyes.

Shoot it, he mouthed. Someone was impatient.

Malcolm turned back to his target: a wolf he had seen before, but this was no ordinary wolf. It was as big as the houses back home in Aaun, as thick as the surrounding trees that offered cover for the two brothers. The wolf didn’t see the hunters as it ravaged a bird. The colorful feathers of the zeonti was dyed a terrifying bright red as the wolf gorged himself, digging into the motionless victim. Bright blue and green, orange and yellow feathers, they were all scattered around the forest floor.

Malcolm stretched back his bow, pulling the string taut. His stomach was roiling at the sight of the poor bird’s guts strewn about, blood smeared on the wolf’s protruding snout. The sound of the tiny bones snapping was so sickenly similar to the twigs that had cracked beneath his feet when they were tromping down the hill, pulling their horses by their steads. And the sounds the beast was making… It was really enjoying itself.

Malcolm could feel the impatience radiating off his brother, so pushing the bile down, he steadied his arrow and breathed out of his mouth slowly.

They were downwind from where the wind was blowing so the wolf couldn’t smell them. Hidden behind a thick foliage also proved to be a fantastic cover for both them and their horses, tied to a nearby tree by their tethers. They quietly stood there, ears occasionally flicking. Malcolm supposed it was a miracle that they hadn’t noticed the wolf’s scent yet.

Yet.

The barbed head of the arrow aiming at the wolf’s huge blue right eye, Malcolm let go just as the ground started to quiver. He watched in disbelief as the arrow went awry, flying into the bushes behind the wolf.

Just wonderful. It was clear he had just signed their death warrants.

The wolf’s head shot up just as the earth shivered again, and Malcolm and Deltar flung their arms around their respective trees, trying to maintain their balance. What was happening?

The bright early evening light seemed to darken, casting their shadows on the forest floor ominously. Deltar swore as the wolf let out a low growl, moving quickly as he fitted an arrow in the notch and shot. He did not miss.

His arrow thudded into the wolf’s hulking shoulder, but it didn’t slow down. If anything, it grew wilder, more intent on murdering them. Malcolm sent up a quick prayer to Ionwounz. If they made it out of this alive, he’d stop the pathetic rivalry between him and Deltar.

If.

The ground shuddered again, sending Malcolm tumbling to the ground, his bow falling to the side and a handful of his arrows spilling out of the quiver. Rotten luck. Del stood, his feet planted firmly in the dirt as he readied another arrow. He didn’t try to balance himself, instead moving with the rolling turf, moving with it instead of against it and therefore maintaining his footing. Behind them, the horses were screaming, yanking so fiercely at their tethers that Malcolm feared they would break their necks.

He scrambled to his feet, swooping up his bow, and toward the horses. Untying the leads was hard with the rolling of the ground and the horses prancing about, terrified, hooves flying, but eventually the ropes loosened, and he held onto them, the ropes cutting patterns into his palms.

“Del!” he yelled, trying to stay upright.

His brother dropped his bow and took out his sword, steel scraping against steel as it was unsheathed. Malcolm yelled again as the wolf lunged forward, huge, dagger-like fangs snapping. Del slashed in an arc at the beast, sending the wolf rolling towards Malcolm. The horses screamed, reins ripping his palms to shreds as the horses made to get away.

The beast grabbed Malcolm’s beautiful roan by the neck, crunching down on the massive bones in one, swift, cruel movement, whipping its head back and forth, effectively snapping the neck. Bones snapped and the light dulled in the roan’s eyes. The wolf let go only when the head was messily detached. Teeth covered in blood, and leaped at Del’s escaping horse, clearing the five meters with ease, slashing the stallion from ribs to flank. The horse let out an ear-splitting scream, nostrils flaring wide and dark eyes rolling. It turned, blood streaming down its side in sheets, hooves thundering against the packed dirt as it escaped.
The ground stilled.

Then Del came out of nowhere, face grim as he appeared in front of the wolf. In one brutal slash, he cut the beast’s throat before swiftly turning the blade and stabbing it into its gaping maw. The wolf let out one, shuddering gasp, eyes fixated on Del with hatred, pain, bloodlust, before it slumped to the ground. Del’s blade slid out of its mouth, slick with blood.

Malcolm sank to the ground. “Shit, that was close.” The words came out breathlessly, full of pain and relief. He held his hands to eye-level, staring at the bloody and torn meat of his palms, blood smeared and still dripping, the air stinging the wounds. Disgusting.

Del swung his sword in a low arc, blood splattering on the dead wolf’s slowly cooling body, before angrily sheathing it. He started to yank the arrows out of the wolf, a boot planted on the shoulder as he swiftly pulled it out, a wet sucking noise occurring as the flesh reluctantly let the arrow go.

Malcolm let out a shaky breath. Everything had gone wrong. Nothing was supposed to go wrong, he had hunted before without having almost been mauled to death. Well, except for that trip in the Aaunian mountains with Uncle Kutoth… And Fa… That hunting trip had ended with Malcolm being the sole survivor.

He watched as his brother stalked over to where Malcolm’s roan lay, headless. He stared as Del grabbed the head and started back to where Malcolm sat, slumped against a trunk. Blood leaked out of the neck of the horse.

Del came to a stop in front of him. He was a mirror-image of Malcolm except for his cold emotionless blue eyes. Malcolm had gray eyes; it was probably the only way to tell them apart besides Del’s standoffish personality.

{TO BE CONTINUED}

*screams*💗💗💗💗 I LOVE ITTTT I CANT WAIT FOR MORE

also how was he the sole survivor that one time??? im rly curious about what happened there

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "*screams*💗💗💗💗 I LOVE ITTTT I CANT WAIT FOR MORE

also how was he the sole survivor that one time??? im rly curious about what happened there"

*smirks* There will be a novella that explains everything MWAHAHAHA 😈

yayyy

but important question: how do you write like that?? like i mean im jealousss

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "yayyy

but important question: how do you write like that?? like i mean im jealousss"

Bro, IDKK. 😭 I read a lot and also read a lot of writing advice bc I'm a sucker for authors' interviews.

Ahhhhhh ur such a good writer nita!!

ikr!!!!

We Were Strangers // NerdyReader_8804 on Wattpad!

Nat Cleardrop:

I never thought I’d dread the first day of my junior year, yet there I was, sitting in my car while the parking lot emptied as the bell rang out. Students rushed past my car, joining the flow toward the main building with their backpacks slung over their shoulders and new shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. Despite it still being summer, it had rained all last night and this morning, only taking brief breaks to let the sun shine through the silver-tinged clouds. Apparently, the weather in Washington was really bipolar this time of year.

“You can go over to your Dad’s,” Mom had said to me last night over the reheated spaghetti-and-zucchini. “You don’t have to go back just because you think you should, Nat.”

I’d swirled my fork on my plate, gathering up some noodles before stabbing the tines into a green vegetable. “I can’t. If I go, Hayley and Kirsten win.” And I refused to lose.

Never mind that I lost all my friends at Lost River High, but I was also notorious for being the daughter of the woman who had gotten into an affair with the mayor- who happened to be the father of my ex-best friend, Hayley.

The conversation had ended and I excused myself to go up to my room and sleep despite it being only six. I rarely had the energy to do anything anymore.

Breathing in deeply, I exhaled, opening the car door and almost bowling some poor underclassman over.

“God dammit!” she swore, and I gaped at her through the crack in my door.

“Sorry!” I apologized, squeezing through my ajar door and closing it. I looked down at the short blond girl sprawled on the concrete, her plaid skirt flared over her bruised knees. “I didn’t see you.”

She looked up at me through her hair, eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. “I think you dislodged my femur,” she said.

I grimaced. “I’m really sorry-”
The tardy bell rang.

“Oh, for the love of…” She groaned, taking my outstretched hand and standing back up, dusting off the back of her skirt as she experimentally stretched her pale knee, wincing. “Well, that was fun.”

I started to apologize again, but she waved me away. “Honestly, I don't give a shit. It’s not the first time I’ve tripped.”

I bite my lip against what I really want to say: Technically, you didn’t trip until I hit you with my car door.

She sighed, picking up her teal purse and looking longingly at the main building. “That was a good way to start the first day of school,” she muttered, making it seem like I wasn’t supposed to hear it. She glanced over at me, looking surprised I was still standing there frozen. “Do I get the name of my assaulter at least?”

My mouth gaped open and closed like a dying fish before I realized she was kidding. The fact that she kept a straight face unnerved me.

“Nat,” I said, offering her a hesitant smile. “I’ve never seen you before. You new?”

“Is it that obvious?” she mumbled, looking embarrassed. “Damn, there goes the whole blending in with the crowd plan! Whatever shall I do?”

I tried to smile again but feared I looked like I was constipated so I stopped. “What’s your name?”

“Eleanor, but everyone calls me Sloan.” She gestured to my car. “You gonna get your bag, or are we going to skip?”

I couldn’t tell if she was serious, and I’ve never skipped a day in my dreadfully boring life, so I quickly grabbed my backpack from the backseat and locked the SUV. Together, we headed toward the school.

“So where did you move from,” I started, the silence thick with awkwardness.

She smiled a little, grateful I said something. “New Jersey, home of Six Flags Great Adventure.”

“What’s that?”

She stared at me. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I-I mean, I’ve never been to New Jersey-”

“You don’t have to have gone!” she practically screamed. Apparently, not knowing what Six Flags Great Adventure was was a great offense to her. “Everyone- and I mean everyone- knows what it is! It’s an amusement park. Do you not have an amusement park over in Always Rainy, Even-In-The-Summertime Washington?”

“I mean, we do. I forgot what it was called, but I went to one on my birthday a few years ago…”

“Girls.” We looked up at the administrator, Ms. Aushwen as she held the door to the office open for us. “You’re late, and on the first day too.”

“Sorry,” we said simultaneously, slipping into the attendance office. I headed toward the front desk to type in my student ID, Sloan following close behind, looking like a sheep in the middle of a wolf pack.

I grabbed the tardy slip out of the printer as soon as it came out, the paper still warm between my fingers. I waited until Sloan got hers and we walked out into the hall.

“What’s your first class?” I said. Please say math.

“History,” she said. “Thank God. I love History.”

I squashed down my disappointment and pointed her down the correct hall. She waved, ducking into the library to get there faster, and I sighed. Would I even see her again? The one person who didn’t hate me?

As I headed up to the second floor for Intermediate Algebra, I stopped by the bathroom to fix my frizzy hair. The brown strands were stuck to my flushed cheeks thanks to the humidity and my shower this morning combined. Dark circles beneath my eyes stood out like a bump in a road. I hadn’t bothered covering them before heading out, eager to escape the empty house. Mom was rarely home; she worked too many hours as a sheriff.

As I spread my Carmex lip balm over my chapped lips, the door squeaked open. I cringed, glancing at the person in the mirror, sliding the lip balm in my bag again. Dark eyes stared back at me, wide with surprise before narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” Hayley Carmichael said, crossing her arms and staring at me in the mirror.

I swallowed, turning around. “I go here,” I said. Duh.

“What I meant,” she said, lip curling as she looked up and down at my wrinkled dress shirt and worn-out jeans, “was: what are you still doing here?”

I clenched my jaw, turning back toward the sink and turning it on. I splashed water on my make-up free face, goosebumps cropping up on my arms as water ran down my neck.

“You ruined my life, my family,” she said when I didn’t respond. “What more do you want, Nat? What else of mine do you want to take from me?”

I shut the water off, ripping a paper towel from the dispenser and rubbing it over my refreshed face. “I don’t want anything from you.”

She laughed. “Right. If that’s what helps you like yourself more. I thought we were friends, but then you ruined everything. Thanks to you and your whore of a mothe-”

I was suddenly in her face, glaring at her shocked face. “Don’t fucking say anything about my mother,” I said quietly. “Whatever she does, that wasn’t my choice. I felt sorry for you-”

“So that’s why you didn’t tell me? While me and my mom and brothers lay asleep, you didn’t tell me because you felt sorry for me? Three months, Nat. Three months you didn’t tell me, that I believed we were friends and my father still loved me and my mother-”

“He still does-”

“No!” She glared at me, eyes red. “You don’t get to talk. Not now. Now is my turn.”

I swallowed.

“Sophomore year turned from the best into my worst nightmare because of you,” she continued. “I loved you like a sister, but this whole summer, where we didn’t talk, didn’t text- I didn’t block you,” she admitted, almost ashamedly. “I didn’t block you even though I knew I should’ve. Tell me why,” she said, and I thought she actually wanted to know. “Tell me why I waited for you to reach out to me, why I cared and why I still do. Tell me, Nat, I need to know. Is it worth it? Are you worth it, despite the hell you and your dear mommy put us through?”

We wore matching expressions of devastation. The anger, the jealousy, the pain and resentment… All of it was thick between us. If someone walked in, I feared that this was the last time we’d talk, and I missed her, missed us.

“I wanted to,” I started, my voice hoarse with repressed feelings. “I really, really wanted to, Hayley, but…”

“But what?”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t text you knowing I didn’t deserve our friendship.”

She stared at me, lips pressed in a white line. “And do you?” she whispered. “Do you feel like you don’t deserve our friendship?” She seemed almost scared of my answer.

If you love them, you have to let them go.

“I do.” The words left before I could take them back. Hayley, my long-time friend from before high school, stared at me, almost like she didn’t hear what I said. “I don’t deserve it.” The words were barely a whisper now.

“Fine.” She stepped back, chest heaving. “Fine, okay. I get it.”

“Hayley-”

“You don’t deserve me,” she said, her voice cracking, looking how I felt- like she was going to cry. “You don’t deserve me or you don’t want me. Fine. I’ll see you around.” Her I guess was lost in the slamming of the door.

I was frozen, stuck in an endless loop of disappointment, anger, pain. I tried to do the right thing, but just like my dad, just like my friends and anyone I’ve ever cared about, it backfired on me. What was the point in trying to do anything right anymore?

Hayley asked me what I wanted from her; I couldn’t even answer honestly, because the truth?

The truth was that I wanted her back.