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Soul for Ransom

Novel By: Naomi Taylor
Young adult



What do you do when your soul goes to the highest bidder... forever? Elana believed she lived a perfectly normal life until she was kidnapped by Kaden, a boy back from Hell itself! View table of contents...


Chapters:

1 2 3 4

Submitted:Jul 28, 2009    Reads: 345    Comments: 16    Likes: 11   


Chapter One: Danger

Elana

Suddenly, the blackness changed to light. Bright light. I opened my eyes just a crack. All I could see was an overwhelming luminousity, colors flashing orange and yellow and red and blue. Oh, but I could sense much more. There was tremendous heat, pressing in at me on all sides. In a split second, pools of sweat formed on my forehead. I could hear loud crackling and other noises; it was as if I were in the center of a detonated firecracker.

I quickly opened my eyes, which was not the brightest idea. Almost immediately blinded, I cried out in pain and became very dizzy. Trying again, this time slowly, I took in my surroundings. My first instinct on my whereabouts turned out to be impossibly true: I stood in what seemed to bear the horrifying name of Hell. Fire was always in view, and not much more. A few stalactites hung from the cavern ceiling, but I could see not much else.

I seemed to be standing on what was a pillar, or a pedestal, only it was made a flaky, black-scorched rock. Shifting weight or any movement I did not dare attempt or even dream of. All that ran through my head was do not move.

It was then I hearda new noise. Just before I could even realize what it was, a voice called out to me. "Elana," it hissed. "Come to me..."

~

I jolted awake. My breathing was short and fast. Sweat ran down the sides of my face, collecting at the bottom of my chin. I quickly glanced around.

To my great relief, I was in my room, safely tucked in my bed. Well, not necessarily tucked - my plaid quilt and sheets were pushed messily down at the foot of my bed. The rest of my light pink room sat around me quietly. A large, white dresser stared at me to the left. A little farther down that same wall, a window was open with a summer breeze and morning sunlight flowing through. I resided in a very small room, so the only other factor to my room was the door. A mirror and a picture of baby Jesus sums up the decor.

After a minute or so, I cast away the dream, which should not have been alarming. Similar dreams had been haunting me for the past month. The voice was the same hissing every time, except it often said different things. Sometimes it warned me, other times it just evilly laughed. They were all very scary.

I slid off the side of my bed and walked over to my dresser. After pulling on a plain purple tee and jean shorts, finishing the look with silver hoop earrings and flip-flops, I then hurried out the door. I ran down the short hallway into the living room. To the left was the kitchen. I grabbed the already made toast, courtesy of my father, and made my way to the couch.

"Bye, Dad." I planted a kiss on his cheek, which was quite prickly. My dad's head was shaved bald, but he always had plenty of hair in other places. "I will see you next weekend!"

"Bye, sweetie."

My mom and dad are the typical couple - divorced. Don't get me wrong, yes, there are many families still together, but for me, there has only ever been problems. My parents made a deal. One week at Mom's, then one week at Dad's. They are only a few blocks apart, so I normally walk.

In each house, I have my own room with its own set of clothes and everything. I am an only child, and very glad to be. My mom almost had another baby once, but it was a miscarriage, plus I don't like kids, sooo...

Anyways, my mom and dad split. They always argued over little things, like buying too expensive steak. Then Mom became afraid of what would happen if something more serious occurred, so that's that.

A few minutes after leaving home, I took a seat on a public bench. My toast was no longer hot now, so I began to nibble on it. Over the top of my toast, I saw a boy. A very hot boy. He looked to be around my age, seventeen, with blonde curls and a very handsome face. His body was toned, and though he was all the way across the street, I could almost see his arm muscle ripple. Everything about him seemed angelic, except his eyes. They were cold and sinister - and staring right at me.

I quickly stood up and turned away. No more delays, I decided. Time to get home to Mother! I stuffed the rest of the toast in my mouth and continued down the sidewalk, without a backwards glance. I crossed the street and journeyed up an alleyway. It was always a useful - and not to mention smelly - shortcut.

Oddly, I heard footsteps behind me. They were slow and casual, but they sounded extremely close behind me.

To my horror, a strong hand clamped over my mouth. Despite the obstacle, I screamed.

~





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