Bitch-slap a brain fart.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is another piece of work I've been trying to finish, but can't figure out how to make it flow. It's so unfinished it's not even funny, but hopefully I'll get some much needed feedback to better help me. So.. yeah.

Submitted: December 24, 2008

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Content

Submitted: December 24, 2008

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Intro

 

I awoke from the same dream and it always the same.

I’m always running. Most dreams you see yourself from above, or from another person’s perspective. Not me. I constantly see this dream as if I’m the main character.

You can laugh if you want, but I always notice my wardrobe first. It’s so… ancient?  I never understood how my mind even came up with this style for me?

I’m permanently wearing a white flowing shirt, with long sleeves that show off my shoulders, a black under bust corset, and a long black belladonna style skirt. And my hair is an almost crimson red, a blood red, that falls into settle waves, and cascades down my back.

I’m always running, but I’m never scared. Fear seems non-existent to me but I’m always confused why I’m not frightened. I should be, any normal person would be scared by the accusations I was being condemned to hell with. Although, I knew I wasn’t normal. They screamed vile words and thoughts pinpointed towards my dream self. They howl things like ‘devil’, ‘evil witch’, and ‘shadow lurker’. I laugh at every remark, at every conscious thought. If they only knew how easy it was to make them fall into my trap. Constantly thinking they can end their predator’s life without effort. I can’t help but laugh at the thought. At the end of this dream, I purposely trip and fall so they can catch up to me, and I feel myself smirking in their direction.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Breathe.

Take a deep breath, and let it out.

Now... repeat as necessary.

That's what I've been doing the past few years.
 

Whenever things seem to get better, it's actually just a mask, preparing me for something worse to come, but I can't say I'm not grateful for that.

I can usually hide my emotions well, but not recently. Recently, my face is an open book, for everyone to read, and unfortunately I'm stuck on chapter one, never writing the climax to my story, never anticipating readers to go on.

No excitement. No intriguing love interests. No danger.

Boring.

So boring in fact, that my own life is no longer interesting me.

But still, for some odd reason,
I still keep
breathing.

 

I wasn’t the type of person who needed friends; I’ve been content with being by myself, until now. Not many people understand this, because they’re never been enslaved by loneliness for centuries. I’m the first of my evolved kind. Although, I can’t say I haven’t ‘fallen off the wagon’ so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about fairy tales, myths, and legends. I come from those very things you heard about growing up as a child. But please, don’t let stereotypes rid you of me. People like me aren’t supposed to have a conscience. We’re just supposed to be predators, monsters. The very things you check under your bed for every night, but let me assure you I’m something different.

Humans evolve, so is it really a surprise that my kind progress as well?

I guess your answer would be as simple as mine. Yes.

 

It’s the first day of my new life. I try to calm myself, but over the years, I can never rid the anxiety I feel as I enter a new town. The only advantage I had was the inhuman ability to hear what they were thinking. Some people call that a gift, but I know otherwise. It’s a curse, a ridiculous reminder of what I am.

It’s the first day of my new life, so I guess I better get started.

I went to the [name?] College in [city and state?] to pick out a new major to study this year. It was something to occupy my time. I arrived at the administration office, and with a short talk with the counselor today, decided to enroll in a fundamental arts class. I’ve always been fascinated with the study. It was late summer, so my classes would be starting in just a few short weeks. On my way out the door, everything changed. A petite girl was walking towards me rather fast, not looking where she was going, which resulted in a collision. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” The moment she said those words, she got up, and in the same moment tripped over her feet. I chuckled silently.

God, I’m such a klutz. I was thinking the same thing.

Books and papers flew everywhere. This is how I met Laura.

“Oh, no it’s perfectly fine. Could happen to anyone,” I said as I helped her scavenge her papers into a neat pile.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry again, I didn’t hurt you did I?” Fuck, this is just my luck. I can’t believe I just ran into someone. Ouch, please don’t tell me I broke my wrist.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself. Looks like you might have scuffed your hand up quite a bit.” I pointed as I spoke.

“Ouch. I think you’re right. This sucks.” She seemed rather upset. I helped her to her feet, and handed her papers to her. “You should probably get that checked out. It’s starting to swell pretty quick,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said, and then she looked at me for the first time. She looked absolutely awed, like she had just seen a statue. Wow and beautiful were the only things she was thinking at that moment.

“No problem. My name’s Anna,” I flashed a grin as I held my hand out to her. “Or maybe that’s not the best idea”

She stared at me for a few moments, then seemed embarrassed and shrugged off her shock. “Laura, and I do have one hand still intact,” she replied as she laughed at herself. She shook my hand, and the moment our skin contacted, she jumped back startled.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Whoa. She’s freezing. I didn’t think it was that cold outside. Maybe it’s my adrenaline. Yes, that has to be it.

“I really think you should get that checked out.”

I probably should, but the bus won’t be here for another half hour, and then the drive there. I picked the wrong day to be hurting myself.

“I was just leaving. I could give you a ride if you’d like?” I said assuring.

Hmmm. She seems nice enough.

“I don’t want to be a burden. Christ knows I’ve caused enough trouble today.” She said.

“It’s no trouble, I’m parked in the east lot.” I said

“Well, ok. Thanks a lot. Umm, let me just put all my things away.” Laura crammed all of her books and papers into a backpack I thought couldn’t hold nearly as much as she was trying to force into it, but to my surprise, she was successful. Right away, this girl fascinated me. She seemed normal enough, but the energy she was projecting said something completely different. Even her style of clothing wasn’t what you’d say was trendy. She wore a plain black long sleeve shirt, baggy torn jeans with a black belt, and black high top sneakers. She was very pale, with long mid-back length brown hair, and emerald green eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(This is something I wanted to incorporate into this story, but I can’t figure out how!!!!)

 

“For some reason, you absolutely fascinate me. You are a living conundrum; a walking contradiction. It's like looking at something through both sides of the mirror yet neither seems clear. You possess a cool, calm confidence in your demeanor, yet everything you say betrays the fact that you are miserable. You seem to have all the traits of a born leader, yet you purposely flail and project an aura filled with insecurities.”


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