Vampire and Hunter

I had this amazing idea one night as I was printing something, and, without delay, I wrote out the characters and plotted out everything. I haven't been this intrigued in a story for awhile, which is a good thing, especially seeing as how my cousin is demanding at least 150 pages of a story by February >.< Well, anyway, here's the Prologue! And, if I don't get discouraged, I'll post up more!
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Prologue

Three years ago…
“I’ll be back near dawn, so don’t wait up,” Abraham Van Helsing instructed his daughter as he shrugged his long brown trench coat on. Despite his words, they both knew that she would wait up, no matter how late he came back. She always did.
Fourteen-year-old Carmen Van Helsing untangled her legs and, setting down the book she was reading, walked over to her father. While straightening his collar and helping to put his hat on, she asked casually, “What’s the job this time?”
Abraham laughed and pinched his daughter’s cheek, saying, “I don’t believe I’ll tell you that, darling.”
Carmen pouted and pretended to be sad.
Abraham shook his finger laughingly in mock severity.
Carmen grabbed his finger and pretended to bite it off.
It was a tradition father and daughter had kept up for over a decade, and it was still faithfully practiced despite Carmen’s increasingly-obvious womanhood.
“Have a safe night, Father,” she called out as her father vanished into the darkness surrounding Van Helsor Manor’s grounds. He paused briefly to wave back, and then disappeared. Everything was the same as it always was—so why did Carmen feel as if she would never see her father again?

Exuding confidence and casualty, Abraham walked into the darkening forest, aware of every sound and movement; decades of training had imbedded the skill into him so it had become as thoughtless as a natural-born reflex.
There was no sound that night—all was quiet, and the famous vampire hunter listened to the tiny sounds of leaves crunching under his boots. Glancing up, he noted with an odd sense of detachment that the stars had just begun to show.
And then everything went black.

When Abraham woke up, he was suspended by ropes that tied his wrists to a tree about fifty feet from the ground. Utterly confused, he shook his head slightly, hoping to clear his muddled thoughts.
“Ah, I see our guest has awakened,” crooned a soft voice that came from inside him, yet echoed all around. Abraham stiffened at the sound—he would know that voice anywhere.
“Vega?” he asked, praying it would be his sister playing another practical joke.
The voice laughed, a tinkling sound that sent shivers up the hunter’s spine. “Guess again.”
“…Magdalena.” It wasn’t a question. If the voice wasn’t his sister’s, it could only be his late wife’s.
“You’re getting warmer,” the voice sang out yet again.
Abraham wracked his mind, and finally came up with the last person in the world it could possibly be. “Carmen? If that’s you, darling, this isn’t funny.”
“It isn’t meant to be funny—and I’m not Carmen.” A vampire suddenly dropped from the branches above to land on the branch that Abraham was tied to. She smiled, showing her fearsomely long and pointed teeth. “Do you remember the name you gave me?”
The vampire watched in satisfaction as Abraham’s eyes widened and fear shot through his body, making it shiver and twitch. “Sorin…”
She laughed and, twisting her body so she was safely balanced against the tree trunk, clapped her hands mockingly. “Congratulations, Father. You still remember me!”
“You never left my mind.” How could he forget his vampire daughter? He had spent so many nights, agonizing over his decision…
Sorin laughed bitterly, Abraham watching her blood-red lips move in that stark-white face, entranced. “I beg to differ. Your words are those of nights spent comforting yourself over your cowardly decision!”
“It was for the best. And I gave you a chance to live.”
“Just a chance! While my sister had the best doctors fighting to save her frail little heart to keep her breaths shuddering through her body!”
“If you had stayed, we all would have died.”
“No. We would have become vampires. Which, of course, in your view, is worse. And I suppose you’ve brainwashed Carmen already. There wasn’t even a guarantee that you all would become vampires! I didn’t start drinking blood until I was seven, by which I could’ve learned not to drink my family’s blood!”
“Sorin, Carmen has a scar she carries to this day. You gave it to her using your sharp little teeth as soon as you were born! You were born with teeth! We couldn’t risk it.”
“We? By ‘we,’ I believe you mean yourself. Because, of course, you had already decided that Mother had to die.”
“She was a full-fledged vampire, uncontrollable in her first urges, yet she held back for us. I couldn’t stand watching her in agony, and at last she begged for me to kill her so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.”
“All lies!” hissed Sorin venomously, her bright blue cat-like eyes slanting dangerously. “You killed Mother, and tried to kill me! You are nothing more than a cowardly, selfish murderer!” She spat the last word out at her father. “I won’t even give you the benefits of being a vampire. I’m going to kill you right here and now!”
“No!” protested Abraham. “Think about your sister! Carmen isn’t old enough to take care of herself! She’s only fourteen!”
“I was three months old when you threw me out into the forest to be eaten alive by the wild creatures of the night! I have been alone all my life! I am alone now, and I am only thirteen minutes older than Carmen!
“I’ve watched her through the years, sneaking glimpses through brightly-lit windows. You’ve been so careful and doting to her; it sickens me! You’ve never even done half so much for me!
“I wanted to be loved too! I’m half-human! I craved the warmth of a father’s embrace, my mother having been taken away cruelly. I craved the love of a family to help me through my hardest blood-urges when there was no blood to be had. I resisted drinking your blood, although I had millions of chances to do so! There was a period when I tried not to drink blood at all, in the hopes that I could one day walk through the front gates, proudly stating that I was a vampire who did not drink blood! I dreamed of being accepted!
“But all that changed the day I stumbled upon Sonya, dying in one of your infernal traps. My only friend besides Miruna and her daughter Sabine, who had found me! I was rejected by the vampires for being half-human, and I was rejected by humans for being half-vampire. My life has been nothing but loss and rejection!
“And this is all because of you!” During Sorin’s entire monologue, Abraham had not spoken because he was so shocked.
However, now, realizing that Sorin’s rage had peaked and was waning, he felt she was waiting for him to respond with something—anything. Without anything better to say, he gave a wan smile: “You sound so much like your mother. She didn’t get angry easily, but when she did… The thought that someone could speak with such eloquence while caught up in the deepest fires of passion amazed me. She was beautiful when she was angry, and I loved her most then.
“I love you too, Sorin, every bit as much as Carmen. I couldn’t face the thought of you hurting Carmen and then sinking into depression because you had hurt your beloved sister—”
At first his cheek was numb, and then it exploded in a red flower of pain. He stared in dumbfound wonder at Sorin, who had just slapped him.
With her hand still in the position it had landed in after slapping him and a faint flush making her face glow and eyes sparkle, Sorin looked like Magdalena in the flesh. “I wish,” she began in a low voice, swelling as her anger began to rise again, “that you would just shut up! Stop lying to yourself! Stop lying to Carmen! Stop lying to me! All you ever say are lies.” Sorin’s voice sank again, making her sound like a little girl who was about to cry. “Don’t lie to me anymore, Daddy…”
Abraham stared at his daughter, feeling his chest tighten, longing to reach over and pull her to him and comfort her so those pearly tears never fell again. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice husky with walled-up emotion.
At his words, Sorin snapped out of her reverie, eyes glittering dangerously again. “Damn right you won’t,” she smiled eerily. “I’ll make sure you never lie to anyone ever again.”
Abraham Van Helsing, most famous of the vampire hunters, didn’t even have time to utter a sound as his dhampir daughter plunged a silver stake through his heart, the enormity of her strength allowing it to pierce through his body to his back.
How ironic, he mused as his life’s essence began slipping away. All this time, I used silver stakes to kill vampires and thought of them as animals… Funny how I can’t help but love my daughter… I’m sorry for having to leave you, Carmen… Take care of your sister… I love you…
And so Abraham Van Helsing died, rising into God’s palace without ever specifying who he had meant while thinking those last three words.

The Last Thread

Admittedly, I haven't posted many of my stories. That's mainly because I'm mostly writing fanfiction now, and haven't had any really good, fresh story ideas for a while now. It's really frustrating, but I think I just have a bad bout of writer's block. Maybe the story I wrote for English that I'm posting here will help me. Pray that it's so!

*Note: These are not from my personal experiences. I am not a psychiatric consultant. I have never had a boyfriend and most certainly have never been raped. This story was entirely created out of my head, helped along by the various Edgar Allan Poe stories I have been reading recently.

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I am beginning to go insane from flashbacks of the traumatic incident I have witnessed recently; as a psychiatric consultant specializing in recovery from traumatic happenings, I know this. Therefore, the police are encouraging me to record my experiences as quickly as possible, and thus I have shunned a pen and am currently typing this.

Despite having graduated at an early age, I quickly became a renowned psychiatrist both in and out of Detroit, where I worked. I had never met a case I couldn’t help in less than a year—that is, never before I met Cheryl Robinson.

Cheryl had been date-raped by her boyfriend of two years.

“When I was young, it was absolutely unheard of to have a boyfriend before you were eighteen, let alone fifteen!” my sixty-seven-year-old receptionist had tutted when sending in Cheryl’s profile.

She wasn’t much different from my other cases—a young teenager going through shock after a traumatic event. “Okay,” I sighed as I finished flipping through the file and put it into my drawer labeled Current Teenagers. “Send her in.” Fully prepared for a girl clothed completely in black and wearing only black makeup, imagine my surprise when I saw a perfectly normal-seeming, happy-go-lucky fourteen-year-old walk in.

“Good morning,” Cheryl smiled. “How are you, Doctor?” I quickly ran my eye down her outfit: green—the color of peace; sleeveless—unafraid of her sex being noticed; jeans—casual and unworried.

“I’m great,” I smiled back. “You?”

“School’s been a hassle,” she laughed, bright blue eyes dancing—dancing somehow too merrily. Knowing that these things should not be dismissed as simply something wrong with the eyes, I jotted down a note about it.

“I remember the feeling; all those teachers trying to be your overlords!” I joked, eliciting a giggle from my patient. And thus we passed the allotted two hours, laughing and joking like old friends; I was careful to steer the conversation in areas that had nothing to do with romance or recent events.

Our half-year meeting was slightly different from the others. Cheryl had seemed to try to stay away from any subjects relating to rape in any way; she hadn’t done that in the first meeting. Hoping to put her at ease, I gave her a questionnaire containing questions about what she liked to eat, what movies she liked, who was in her family, etc. After she left, I went through the questions and answers. One of her answers intrigued me. “Have you ever seen a psychiatrist before?” I had written on the sheet.

“Not that I know of!” she had written in what was clearly meant to be a joking way.

Something was wrong there. Why hadn’t she simply written “No” and been done with it? I played back the recorded notes on her handwriting I had and noticed immediately that she had written in a sinuous stroke, meaning that she redirects the questions to ignore the facts. Had she been in therapy once and simply blocked it out of her mind? For the first time since I’d begun this career, I wished I hadn’t signed a confidentiality form; I wanted desperately to talk to this girl’s parents about her.

As our meetings progressed, Cheryl became further and further drawn in and wearing steadily lighter clothing. She had taken to wearing yellow—a sure sign that she was trying to pretend she was all right. The only conclusion I could draw was that something was going on that she didn’t feel she could trust anybody with. She also acted happy rather convincingly; had I not given her a questionnaire to fill out each time and analyzed her handwriting each time or had I not been a psychologist, I would have believed she was recovering from the shock very well.

Eventually, after an entire year of biweekly sessions, I began losing sleep over this girl. She wasn’t the Cheryl I had gotten used to after the first three sessions.

Once, after she had taken to wearing white, she had interrupted me when I called her Cheryl. “Doctor, please don’t call me Cheryl anymore. My friends and I decided that Hunapo would be a much better name for me.”

“Hmm that’s interesting… Do you think I should get a new name?” I knew not to ask her a direct question pertaining to why she had decided to change her name. But, for once, Cheryl—or rather, Hunapo—chose to ignore me, and I became increasingly worried at her unusual behavior. As shown by her wearing light clothing to persuade everybody that she was happy, it was quite obvious to me that she was uneasy about her self-identity.

After about a year and a half, I was beginning to give up on my Cheryl-Hunapo case; perversely, I began sleeping better. Quite ashamedly to say, I once recorded, “I fear I cannot hold onto this case for much longer; she is simply changing too strangely and too oddly, and she refuses to trust me with any information at all. Nothing she says gives me any insight into her and neither does anything she does. Everything is always perfectly neutral with her. And I am afraid that I am becoming neutral about her case as well.”

“Doctor, don’t call me Hunapo anymore,” she said after two years. “My name is Enola now.”

Personality problems, I scribbled onto my notes and began to worry, but outwardly I laughed and said, “I love that name! The main character of one of my favorite books had that name!”

Cheryl-Hunapo-Enola looked at me angrily, and demanded, “Why do you always act like you don’t care? I know you do; it’s part of your job. If I know and you know I know, why do you still act like you don’t care about me? Why do you act like you don’t care about me changing my name?” Before I could answer, she got up. “This is wasting my time and money. I don’t need someone who pretends she doesn’t care about me while trying to worm her way into my trust. How can I give you my trust when you don’t even trust me?” she hissed. “When I come back, I expect treatment worthy of the money I’m paying.” She left.

Instead of coming at the prescribed time for her session, Cheryl-Hunapo-Enola came when I was the only one still in the building on the day of her next session. The first I knew of her coming was a vague shadow on the dappled glass window and a rapid tapping on my office door. “It’s unlocked,” I called, lazy as I was to open the door myself, as I busied myself with shuffling papers in preparation for going home.

“Good evening, Doctor,” an abnormally low female voice issued from the growing crack in the doorway. “I apologize for not coming to my session today, so I am here now to make it up.”

Feeling the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, I struggled against the urge to panic, telling myself it was only a voice, and ran through the list of patients who hadn’t come for their session on that day. There was only one. “Enola, it’s so nice to see you,” I smiled, turning around and facing the crack in the doorway. “Can I do anything for you tonight?”

“I just need some help with my boyfriend, that’s all.” I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief; finally, a normal teenage problem!

“Of course; come in!” I walked over to the door, ignoring the growing dread in the pit of my stomach, and pulled it open, nearly fainting at what I saw there.

Cheryl-Hunapo-Enola—no; I knew this monster was not Cheryl, the bright-eyed, laughing teenager I had known, nor was she Hunapo, who, although having an attitude problem, was still just a teenager struggling to overcome the rush of emotions that come at this time—Enola was looking at me with madness whirling in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated to such an extent that her normally bright blue eyes became pure black rimmed with moonlight-pale blue. In her arms was the limp body of a strong young man with the build of a football player, looking to be roughly a year or two older than Enola.

Apparently she saw the horror and shock in my eyes, for her own eyes narrowed and she moved to cover my mouth, mocking me as she did so. “Are you going to scream and call for help, Doctor? Will you tell everybody to be brave and face what’s real, and then become a hypocrite when you’re alone?” She spat out the last word, bitterness barely disguised in each syllable.

In a flash, she dropped the body of the boy, and twisted my arm behind my back. I tried to scream, but Enola’s hand clamped down on my mouth even harder, and I could taste blood. “Now, now, be a good doctor and do as I say,” she laughed; it came out oddly high-pitched, considering the low voice she was speaking with. “I would hate to have to hurt you!” She laughed again, a low and nasty chuckle this time.

Someone was whimpering, and I realized that that someone was me. With a wicked smile on her face, she ignored me and forced me down onto my chair, tying my hands behind my back and tying my legs to the chair. She lifted her hand for a single moment, but before I had time to react, she slapped a piece of tape onto my mouth, effectually sealing it for the time being. I closed my eyes to stop the tears that were welling up deep inside me…

Apparently I fainted, for when I next opened my eyes, Enola was pacing the room with a whip in her hands while she poured forth a barrage of questions at the unfortunate boy she had dragged in, who was now tied to a chair as I was. “I hate you, you know that?” Enola was snarling.

“Don’t hurt me…oh God… Please don’t hurt me…” the boy babbled.

“That’s exactly what I said that night, but you ignored me, didn’t you?” she giggled in a sing-song voice. “Why should I listen to you now?” Suddenly, the boy’s eyes caught my own, and they lit up with a sort of savage hope. He mouthed the word help to me, but Enola whirled around to see what he was staring at so frantically and pleadingly. “Ah, you’re awake,” she smiled in satisfaction. “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Zane. Zane, this is my psychiatrist. I do hope you’ll be nice to each other now!”

“You’re crazy!” Zane shouted in a spurt of idiocy. “We won’t do anything to each other! We can’t! You bound us up!”

“That’s for your own safety, darling,” Enola laughed, carving a scar in his cheek with her elongated fingernails.

“Let me go,” he pleaded, wincing as scarlet began to run down his face. “Please! We can talk about this, Cheryl!”

I could almost see the strings inside her snapping; Cheryl, Hunapo, and Enola had all been cracking for a long time. Now, with her last thread strained to the breaking point, Enola snapped.

“I am not Cheryl, you moronic slug!” she shrieked, her eyes wide and hands tensed in claws. “No; you have made me so much more than that. You have made me who I am now!” Her voice softened to nearly a coo, but the madness never left her eyes. “Although I never thought I would say this, I have to thank you. You opened my eyes to what must be done to rid this world of such monsters as yourself!” As she screamed out this last sentence, Enola pulled a huge carving knife out from behind her back; from where she obtained such an object, I do not know.

At last, Zane proved that he did indeed have a brain as he began to work furiously on liberating his limbs from their bonds, which he should have begun doing long ago. To my surprise, he managed to free his hands rather easily, and began to work on his legs. All the while, Enola advanced steadily forward. “I will tell you a story of how a young girl was brutally hurt by the one she loved,” she smiled benevolently, as though telling a fairytale to little children. “As I speak, I will slowly carve your skin so that you suffer the same agony the girl suffered.”

Zane did not waste time on useless words and continued to work furiously on the ropes. Feeling that he would not be able to escape before Enola killed him, I tried to scream. Unfortunately, while the tape muffled my mouth, my struggles attracted the mad girl’s attention, and her head whipped around faster than lightning. “Now, now then, Doctor,” she crooned sweetly, putting the knife down onto a table and walking towards me. “I told you not to put up a fuss. I’m terribly sorry for this, but I’m afraid that I must make sure you are no longer a liability. I only came to make up my session, and I do believe I have already done that. There is no need for you to stay any longer.”

With that, her hand slammed the back of my head so hard that I immediately became unconscious. The last thing I remember is Zane springing up triumphantly as his bonds fell at his feet. I pray he escaped, although I do not have much hope of that; Enola drew remarkable amounts of strength from her psychosis, and she could have caught up with him despite his athletic physique. If she did not, good luck to the poor boy and may he have learned his lesson.

Forgotten Wolves

I haven't had time to write many stories but I recently found this story I started a few months before school ended. It isn't written as badly as a couple of my other stories, and I think my writing's starting to get deeper... Anyway, the wolves part intrigues me because I love wolves <3


PROLOGUE

The girl smiled at the woman sitting beside her in the car—her mother. “Will we be home soon?” she asked in a slight British accent.
“You’ve asked that question at least ten times in the past hour, Jamie,” the driver laughed. “We’ll be home in another half hour.” The car was silent for several moments. Then, at length—“Do you really hate Quebec that much?” she asked in a soft voice.
Jamie sighed. “It isn’t that. I just feel so much more comfortable on the island.”
“Is it because of your father?”
“No, Mum. I know you’re a psychologist, but I’m not one of your patients. You can’t treat me like one. I’m different because I’m your daughter. And also… It’s none of your business however much I like Dad.”
Mother and daughter lapsed into silence.
It was a rainy night. The old Volkswagen was running low on gas. There were so many causes for what happened next.
A car swerved out onto the open road, right in front of Jamie and her mother. On instinct, Jamie’s mother turned the car to the right, to avoid the car. She had twisted the wheel too hard.
The car skidded across a thin sheet of black ice.
She struggled to right the car, but in doing so, her efforts turned the car over.
Jamie screamed.
Then there was pain.
Then there was nothing.
CHAPTER ONE

Jamie woke up. She couldn’t remember why she was there. She was covered in bandages. She couldn’t remember where she was.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head. There was a man, sleeping in a chair, very close to her bed. I’m supposed to know him, Jamie thought, but I don’t. What happened to me?
She tried to ease herself up, but a piercing pain in her head made her shriek. The man beside her bed woke immediately.
There was relief in his eyes, then worry, and finally pain. “Are you all right, Jamie?”
She nodded. “I think so.” I have a British accent, she thought dazedly. Since there was no way to put it off without pain, she asked bluntly, “Who are you?”
The pain in the man’s eyes intensified, and Jamie wished she could take it back. “I’m Dad, remember?” He seemed to choke on the last word. “Do you remember who you are? Why you’re here? Where you are?”
Jamie thought. “My name is Jamie,” she said slowly, “but I’m not quite sure of my last name. I think it starts with a D. I don’t know why I’m here. I think I’m in a hospital. Am I?” The man—my father, she reminded herself—nodded sadly. “Why am I in a hospital? Is there something wrong with me?” She felt oddly panicked. She already knew there was something wrong with her. Why should she be worried? Why was she wasting time asking pointless questions? Did she always do this?
“You were in an accident, Jamie. With your mother.”
Jamie felt dazed, like she was dreaming. “My mother,” she repeated stupidly. “Is she alive?” The man—my father, she reminded herself again—didn’t say anything. “She’s dead, isn’t she.” It was said as a statement, not a question. If she wasn’t alive, she was dead. It was that simple.
He nodded after a long pause. “It must be hard for you,” he said, his voice catching. “To not be able to remember her, I mean. She used to be the most important person in your life.”
“Really?” Jamie was intrigued. She wanted to learn more about this life which apparently used to be hers. “What was she like?”
Her father kept silent for a long time. When he began to talk again, his voice was layered with sadness. “She was a beautiful woman. She was happy most of the time, but when the mood seized her, she could become very withdrawn. She was such an intelligent woman, always hungry for knowledge. The house was filled with all her books.”
“Am I like her?”
“Very much so. You have her eyes and her hair. You have her nose. You look so much like her I can hardly believe it isn’t her. But you’re more emotionally balanced that she was. You liked to write more than to read.” Jamie’s father broke off in the middle.
Jamie kept quiet. She had a question, but she didn’t want to distress him more. At last, she ventured, “Who are you?”
“I’m your father.”
“Yes, you’ve said that. But what are you like?”
“My name is Robert Ma’iitsoh. I’m thirty-seven years old, and I study wolves as a profession. When we go home, there will be thirteen wolves waiting for us. Do you remember them?”
Jamie thought hard. “No,” she answered truthfully. “But…thirteen? Isn’t that how old I am?”
Robert smiled, pleased that she’d at least remembered her age. “Yes. Your mother and I started the project the year you were born. Each year, we add a new wolf.”
“Who are they?” Jamie propped herself up in bed, interested at last. Her father pulled out a scrapbook in his backpack and began to show her the wolves, and how to tell each one apart.
Lakota…Chinook…Cheyenne…Estonia…Gypsy…
Inuktitut…Lakota…Navajo…Shoshone…Tamil…Inupiat…
Lenape…Cherokee…
The names were familiar only because these were the names of Native American tribes, or of some other ethnic group. The pictures weren’t familiar. Eventually, however, Jamie learned to distinguish the wolves. She also figured out how much it hurt her father when she couldn’t remember what apparently had been so important to her before. And so she pretended. She pretended that she vaguely remembered something, or that something seemed familiar. Nothing too promising, since she didn’t want to get his hopes up.
“When are we going home?” Jamie asked finally. She had picked up enough to know that “home” equaled a huge estate that covered acres and acres, filled with a wolf tribe of thirteen.
Robert seemed surprised. “I never thought you’d ask to go to Ontario,” he chuckled.
Jamie looked startled—a mistake. “What?” she asked. “Do I not like to go to Ontario?”
Her father’s face changed, and she immediately knew that she had given away her act of remembrance with that one little question. “You don’t remember, do you,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. She didn’t remember. And he knew.
“Of course I do,” Jamie blundered. She couldn’t hurt her father this way. Even if she knew him as only a strange man who seemed to care about her, she didn’t want to hurt him. He loved her, apparently, and she wouldn’t hurt those who loved her.
Robert frowned, “No you don’t. Stop pretending just to spare me. I’d rather know what was really going on than to be protected. I’m not a child; I’m older than you are.”
“Age is nothing but a number,” replied Jamie without thinking. She didn’t even know where that had come from.
Apparently, her father did. He went white, and gasped, “You remember that?”
“Remember what?” Jamie was confused.
“Your mother and you used to eat those Dove chocolates all the time, and you’d memorize all those quaint little sayings inside the wrapping. Don’t you remember any of that?”
Jamie shook her head. “It just came out of the blue. I guess it became a kind of reflex.”
“Do you remember her at all?” Robert asked pleadingly.
She thought hard. “I—I remember she was tall, and that’s about it.”

Chix12

I know exactly how I'm gonna write this! I even have one of those back-cover excerpt-thingies!

“Siena? Are you all right?”

I shook myself from the dreamy state I had been in. “Yeah. Just a little tired.” Shuddering, I stood up and wobbled my way to the teacher’s desk. My friend Koa and I were in detention with Mrs. Westerner. “Mrs. Westerner?” I asked. “May I go to the bathroom?” Once the graying lady had nodded, I grabbed my agenda and left the stuffy, claustrophobic classroom.

In the hallways, I began to slow down. I had a few precious minutes of freedom before I was forced to return to that room—that disgustingly hot, horrid room. Mrs. Westerner was a sweet woman, but even that hadn’t stopped her from giving Koa and me detention for talking too much in class. It hadn’t been our fault, though. Casey Barnett had been yakking away about her latest date, and when Koa and I leaned over to tell her to shut up, we got busted.

After going to the bathroom, I was forced to return to my after-school prison. Fortunately, however, Mrs. Westerner soon became “too bored for words”, and we were free to go.

“What was up in detention?” asked Koa as we rode the bus home.

“Huh?”

“You went all psychic on me again. That’s the third time this week. What’s up with you?”

I shrugged and yawned. “Sorry, Koa.”

She looked at me. “Oh, no,” she laughed. “You can’t just get away with an apology! Now you have to tell me what was going on.”

“I was just thinking about Casey Barnett and her boyfriend.”

“Ew. Why?”

I shrugged again, and looked away. “I just wondered what it was like to have a boyfriend,” I said in a small voice. “I know that they don’t really love each other or anything. I know it’s just an act for popularity,” I added quickly. “I don’t want anything like that, though. I want someone who actually respects me and cares about what I think.”

The bus was silent as Koa thought. I was uncomfortably aware of the silence; she and I were the only ones on the bus today, seeing as how it was a Friday. At last, she looked at me. “That’s really deep, you know,” she said calmly and frankly. “But I can see what you mean about the boyfriend part. I wish I had one too.” She shifted her body on the seat. “I mean, we’re already fourteen. Everybody else has a boyfriend.”

“It kind of makes me feel—oh, I don’t know—unwanted.” I looked up at her. “At least you already had a boyfriend,” I grinned ruefully.

“You mean Ross? We were really just good friends. There was never any chemistry between us. We only went out because we wanted to test our relationship. Besides, we broke up after a week.”

“That’s longer than Casey and Rob have been going out,” I laughed. Koa smiled. “But seriously, Koa. What’ll we do about the boyfriend thing? We can’t just go to the dances together like we did all the other years, or just skip out on it altogether. I’m tired of rumors saying that we’re lesbian, but I want to have all these memories of middle school.”

Just then, Carlos, the bus driver, called back to us, “Here’s your stop.”

We got off the bus, and walked towards Koa’s house to finish up our homework. As we did so, Koa’s neighbor, Ross, looked out the window. We were only wearing tank tops and shorts, the day being too hot to wear a t-shirt. He wolf-whistled and called down, “C’mon up to my bedroom, ladies, and I’ll treat you right!” We all laughed. Ross was a bit of a pervert, but he was actually really sweet and nice. To add to his words, he began to do a slight striptease by slowly taking off his shirt.

Koa rolled her eyes. “Bye, Ross,” she called up, and, giggling, we went into her house.

“Are you sure you don’t want some of this?” Ross yelled in a last-ditch attempt to get us to turn around. We just waved our hands back at him and locked the door.

The back-cover excerpt-thingy:

Meet me tonight at Bicentennial Park.

--Chix12

That was what the note said. I couldn’t believe it. Who was this Chix12, anyway? He sure had nice writing. Or was it a she? I didn’t know, that was for sure. And I wasn’t sure how to sneak out of my house at midnight. My parents were mega-strict. Besides, how long was it going to take? What was it about? My head was swimming with questions, with, oh, say, about ZERO ANSWERS!!!


I'm still debating about the end, though. I might just have it turn out to be Koa who was pretending to be Chix12 because she didn't want Siena to feel bad about not having a boyfriend. But for the prom, Ross asks her to be his date because he actually does like her. In that way, it leaves room for a series. Or should it just be Ross throughout? GAHHH I don't know!

The Boyfriend Interviews

Again, only a plot outline. I have so many plot outlines that I have to post them here to keep track of them!


Erin is weird. She has a lot of guy friends, and a lot of gal friends, but no boyfriend. She doesn't really trust any one of her friends with everything, and she has to pretend in school and at home. She used to have crushes, but as she began to read more and more, she became afraid of getting hurt. And so, she withdrew her heart from love.

However, on the next-to-last day of seventh grade, it's the Talent Show. A lot of her guy friends are performing: Jamie, Joe, Sam, Phil, Kevin, Ryan, Eric, Beshoy, and Jiansen. They are all singing one song: Can You Feel the Love Tonight, by Elton John, one of her favorites. As they sing, they move down the aisles until they are singing to ERIN. After the song ends, with one voice, they ask, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

So, now, Erin has nine potential boyfriends. She's not a little freaked out, and she's pretty sure it's a joke, but she decides to play along. Therefore, over the summer, she gives each guy a one-week trial as her boyfriend.

Eventually, though, she and the guys realize that she doesn't really click with any of them. So, it's a new school, and she still doesn't have a boyfriend... Although her friends all managed to pair up with the guy friends who sang to Erin at the Talent Show. And even Erin lucks out. She finds two new guy friends, Efren and Ross. Maybe one of them will become her first boyfriend, or maybe they'll make up the sequel of The Boyfriend Interviews.

???

I only have a plot to work with right now. I don't even have a title yet!! If anybody has any ideas, please please please tell!!


In 2296, scientists set up an experiment in which they recreate 2008 life. Each child born there has a special computer chip inserted in its brain. This allows the scientists to know their thoughts and control their actions to a certain degree. Also, it inhibits the children's natural-born ability to speak the Common Language, which is the language of all minerals, plants, animals, etc etc. Only children know the Common Language, for some odd reason. Around the time that their childhood ends, they no longer understand the Common Language.

This chip has always been accepted by the human body...until a girl named Bella is born in 2304. Nothing works on her. The antibodies that keep her from getting cancer or AIDS or other such fatal diseases won't work on her either. The scientists are both interested and worried. They are being threatened, although they are also highly intrigued by this oddity.

As an experiment, the scientists manipulate those around her to see how she will react. There are cameras everywhere, except on natural materials (the houses are all made out of concrete or brick). Bella is tracked, even as she speaks the Common Language with the animals and plants. She has no computer chip in her brain. Therefore, her thoughts are completely new and do not adhere to the guidelines that the chip sets.

The scientists continue trying to put the computer chip in Bella's brain, but it will not work. When she is fourteen, the chip dies as soon as it is in Bella's body (it used to just not work). The scientists decide she is a liability to the success of the experiment. Therefore, they manipulate those around her to make her miserable, and perhaps eventually force her into madness or suicide.

Then, the tables turn when Bella finds out.

The Fight of the Poppies

Just so you know, "Poppies" stands for "Populars", basically <3


Ariel looked around the library. She had been there so many times she could probably walk there in her sleep. Great, she thought unhappily. I’ve read everything already. Unlike the typical most-popular-girl-in-school stereotype, Ariel was an avid reader. By the time she had been ten, she had finished every book in the children’s section. On her fourteenth birthday, she finished every young adult book. And now, finally, on the last day of high school, she had finished the last adult book.

The young seventeen-year-old glanced at the old shelves again, and sighed. The public library was small. Castillo Azure was a large and rich town. 75% of the people there were filthy rich, and owned private libraries. Therefore, there was almost no need for a public library. If it hadn’t been for the 25% population of people who didn’t have private libraries, Libra Azure would have been torn down decades ago. It had no money. The people who used it had so little money to spare that they always returned the books ahead of time, for fear of paying the fine.

Ariel sighed once more, and finally started trudging to the exit. “Bye, Frank,” she said, smiling at the janitor. He smiled back, and continued to wipe the floor. Frank seemed like the only true friend she had made there. Back when she had moved to Castillo Azure, she had learned that conforming was the only way to lead a life without exclusion. She had become a very good actress this way. Frank seemed like the only person she could open up to sometimes.

It’s hard work being the most popular girl in the entire town, she thought ruefully. It was even harder when she was “poor”. She had no money to go to any of the big parties, the movie premiers, or for designer clothes. Everything she wore, she got from a rag shop and put it together herself, adding on sequins and ribbons each time she wore it so it seemed like she wore something new each time.

She thought through all of this as she neared the exit… But for some reason, Ariel no longer wanted to leave. She caught a glance of a strange shadow in the corner. Curious, she glanced at it again, and started walking towards it.

Then she shook herself and stopped. Her mother was going to be working the evening shift at the hospital, so she needed to be home to make dinner. She couldn’t waste time on pointless exploration! Besides, she’d explored the library countless times before, and was quite positive she knew every crook and nanny of it.

But still… Ariel glanced at the strange shadow again. It was so tempting, to try and find something that she hadn’t found before! She was hungry for knowledge, even if it only met finding out what caused such a strange shadow.

Finally, unable to resist the urge, she gave in and ran to the shadow…

~

She woke up lying on the cold ground a moment later—or at least it seemed like a moment. Ariel glanced out the window, and noticed with a shock that it was there was a thunderstorm outside. She looked around the room. It was built with cold, gray stone that looked like it had been there from the Middle Ages. The walls were covered in ancient bookcases made of oak, cherry, and mahogany, carved with strange runes and symbols.

Where am I? Ariel thought as she picked herself up and walked to the nearest bookcase. She chose a book at random, and blew the dust off the cover like in movies. With a slightly trembling hand, she opened it to a section in the middle. And so, heeding the sprite’s warning, Edwin did not approach the dragon using a sword. Rather, he walked up to the dragon and simply began to talk to it.

With a thump, she shut the book, and replaced it with another, more official-looking tome. Once again, she opened it to the center. In Year 10, Arian cast a spell to protect Arda-Ura from outside rivals. This spell became the first Spell of Honor, which then became the second Spell of Honor with just one small consonant change. Ariel closed that book too, although more gently, and returned it. What is this place? she thought. Arda-Ura? Where is that? What happened?

However, instead of panicking, she felt merely curious. It didn’t feel real, somehow. And all those stories and histories on the shelves looked so inviting! It was out of the ordinary. It was—amazing. Unbelievable. Different. Extraordinary.

Ariel smiled to herself, and began to walk to the first bookcase. Only then did she notice that she was wearing different clothes. She was wearing long purple robes layered with blue, and her shoes were strange slippers that, though unfamiliar, were nonetheless very comfortable.

She shrugged and continued to walk towards a very large, purple book with gold edges that had caught her eye.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door. “Princess Ariella!” he gasped, panting heavily.

Ariel goggled at the figure in the doorway. “Frank?!” she exclaimed in shock.

“Why can’t you ever say it right? It’s Franco!” the man snapped. He, too, was wearing the odd robes, although his were sky blue and grass green. “Hurry, Princess, the carriage is at the door. They won’t wait long, and the sorcerers don’t have enough magic to keep the Poppies off for long!”

Ariel’s head was swimming. “Uh…” she managed to utter intelligibly. “Wait, let me take some books.” Save the books, was her one thought. For some reason, the castle—she knew it was a castle now—was under attack. She had to save the books.

With one free hand, she managed to scoop up the history that she’d been reading earlier, the storybook, and the large purple book. “Yes, yes,” Franco said hurriedly. He grabbed a grey book, a thin blue book, and a strange-looking red book that read Castle Secrets. Then, he shoved her through the door. “Now we must go!” he hurried. “Your robes, spell books, and other magic materials are in your trunks. We’ve packed a large selection of books for you. Now you must go! Please, Princess, run! I urge you!”

Still dazed, Ariel ran down the narrow hallway, clutching her robes in one hand. What’s going on? Who are the Poppies? Questions whirled in her head as she hurried to the carriage that Franco had said was waiting for her. The question that kept resurfacing was, Who is Princess Ariella?

Ariel ran and ran through the seemingly endless hallways. Her arms were growing more and more tired with the weight of the books.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she arrived at the doors leading to the outer gardens. A dark, shimmering carriage was waiting for her, harnessed to two brown horses who kept tossing their heads in agitation.

“Princess!” the driver shouted. “Hurry!”

Ariel yanked open the carriage door and jumped in, still holding the precious books with one hand. Just before she slammed the door shut, she yelled, “What about Franco?” The old man reminded her too much of Frank for her to leave him behind without worry.

“He’ll be fine,” the driver replied. “It’s you they want.”

She wanted to ask why, but knew that it would reveal her as the fraud she was. “Where are we going?” she asked instead.

“To the monastery in the Eadha Mountains,” he called back. “You’ll be safe there, Princess. The nuns and monks are very kind people, and your education will be continued. Your books, jewels, and clothes have all been brought. You’ll be taken care of there.” But who am I supposed to be? Ariel felt like shouting.

The Heartache Series

Okay, this is just a plot outline that I'm working with so far... I have some positive sentences that I want to see in this series...

Book 1: Setting - Middle School & Junior High; POV - Girl
- Girl likes boy and is boy's friend
- "I think it was his smile that captured me... It was so inviting and warm..."
- Lots of fun, but grow apart, then be friends again
- Boy doesn't seem to care anymore, so girl is heartbroken
- "His eyes were cold as he looked at me, and I knew in that moment that it was over..."
- Girl goes into background and watches boy from a distance

Book 2: Setting - Summer before studying for third Ph. D starts; POV - Girl
- 25; dances with guy at masquerade, then sleeps with him after too much wine
- Sees guy again at other masquerade; this time get numbers and arrange a date
- Keep masks on for date, thought was romantic, also prevent from seeing her "ugly face"
- Finally take masks off after 3 months because guy is proposing
- Is boy that was girl's first love, girl never forgot him
- "He called me perfect. I loved him for lying..."

Book 3: Setting - Middle School & Junior High; POV - Boy
- Boy likes girl and is girl's friend
- "I think I fell in love with her the first time I saw her smile..."
- Lots of fun, but grow apart, then be friends again
- Dad doesn't care anymore, so must pretend to be indifferent
- "I saw in her eyes the hurt that my coldness had caused. In that moment, my resolve weakened and I almost broke down and told her that this was for our relationship. But did we even have a relationship at that point?..."
- Boy keeps tab on girl from a distance
- "I saw her laugh, and I knew she had forgotten me. I was glad she didn't suffer, but I felt my heart cry..."

Book 4: Setting - Summer before studying for third Ph. D starts; POV - Boy
- 26; dances with gal at masquerade, then sleeps with her after too much wine
- Sees gal again at other masquerade; this time get numbers and arrange a date
- Keep masks on for date, thought was romantic and fun
- Finally take masks off after 3 months because boy wants to propose
- "I never thought I'd fall in love after _________, but this girl was so much like ________..."
- Is girl that was boy's first love, still in love with her

Book 5: Setting - Starts at graduation after 4th Ph. D for both; POV - Outsider view
- Planning the wedding, buying a house, having a child
- Girl continues to write her stories
- Boy continues to paint his art
- Have concerts together: piano, flute, violin
- "This was the happy ending they'd always dreamed of..."

It's probably not going to end there, because I'd have a lot of fun with this couple. But this is just a basic overview, that's all =]

Shades of Violet

Prologue

Violet Bellatrix was a young girl with a seemingly perfect life. She was kind, she was gentle, she was beautiful, she was friendly... The list went on and on. Her parents were remarkably kind to her, and no one she loved had died yet. Also, she was a good student and well-liked by all of her peers.So why do I find myself here? Violet wondered. She stared down. She was standing on the roof of a seven-story building, preparing to jump down. How has my life changed so fast? It was perfectly normal just a month ago...


Chapter One
Loss of Innocence

One month ago...
"Hey, Claire!" Violet called out, waving at her friend. The brunette waited for Violet to catch up. "Hey, have you seen Hailey or Sara?"
Claire shook her head. "Nope," she said regretfully. "Poor Sara, it must've been such a shock for her! I mean, Hailey has been her best friend for, like, ever!"
"I know!" gushed Violet sympathetically. "I can't believe Hailey would steal Sara's boyfriend like that! What a bitch!"
"Like, Jake has been going out with Sara for, like, a month! How could he just dump her like that? And what's Hailey got that Sara doesn't?" cried Claire; she was really getting into the gossip. "I mean, Hailey's hair? Puh-leeze! Red went out when the dinosaurs died!"
Shut up, Violet thought. You're just as bad as Hailey is. And how do you know Hailey doesn't really like Jake? You don't know anything. Just shut your fat mouth, asshole. Out loud, she continued to gush. "I know! Sara is way prettier than Hailey. I can't believe Jake! How could he do that to her?"
"Forget Jake! How could Hailey backstab her best friend like that? Like, Sara was the only one who would even go near Hailey back in elementary school!"
I hate doing this, agonized Violet. But I don't want to be persecuted. I hate being such a coward... I wish I could just stand up for what I really think. "Yeah, like, totally!"
Suddenly sick of the topic, Claire started talking about the latest movie. Viola zoned out, and continued to think about the Sara-Jake-Hailey love triangle problem. When had middle school gotten so harsh? It had been so simple just last year... The rules would've been that Sara should've been able to hang onto her man, and that Hailey should've been the teen idol for having stolen a guy that hot from a girl who was prettier than she was. Sara would've been the outcast, not Hailey and Jake.
But now... They had to take into account that backstabbers were not appreciated unless the backstabber was popular. Everything depended on popularity now. They hadn't leaned on it this much in any of the other years. It made Violet sick just thinking about it.
And it also made her sick thinking about the things she had done and said to become the most popular girl in school. Everybody idolized her and wanted to be her friend, even those she had dissed before. She had no idea who really liked her for her...
"Helloooooo!" Violet snapped back to reality. Claire was waving her long, slim hand in front of her face. "Earth to Viiiiii!"
"Ehmagawd, I'm, like, sooooooooooo sorry, I just like totally zoned off for a sec there!" giggled Violet, at the same time hating herself for conforming. Suddenly she gasped. "Shit! I totally forgot we had to do that research on the Vitruvian Man for math!"
Claire sympathized and patted her on the back, albeit very unconvincingly. "I'm sure that Emma will let you borrow hers," she said. "Now, back to business. Does this shirt make me look fat?"
"No way!" cried Violet. "You could never be fat, you're so totally gorgeous!"
"Aww, thanks, you're gorgeous too, babe!" Claire giggled.
"And unbelievably sexy," a seductive voice whispered next to Violet's ear, making her jump. She turned around, smiling, to find her boyfriend, Todd.
Violet was dying to scream her thoughts out. I hate you! You're so shallow it's disgusting! You can't just coast through life on stupidity and good looks! she thought angrily. Outwardly, she smiled and tossed her arms around his neck, nearly throwing up as she did. "So are you," she murmured.
"You guys are, like, soooooooooo cute together!" squealed Claire.
"Thanks, you're the best!" laughed Violet. She kissed Todd (thinking the entire time Get off of me, you pervert! I don't like you at all!) and continued walking and chatting with Claire.

When the day was finally over, Violet gave a sigh of relief and trudged to her house, where at least she could lock herself in her room. Oh wait, she groaned, I invited Claire and Emma over today to watch movies...
"Elle, I'm home," she called, dropping her school bag on the ground.
Her mother came up to her with a bag of chips. "Hey, babe," she responded. "Want a chip?"
Violet grinned, "Sure!" Of course not; they're horrible for your health. You'd be so fat if you weren't anorexic and had plastic surgery every ten years, she thought. It was horrible to think such thoughts about her mom, but... Her mom never really acted like a mom, unless it was to suck up to the teachers.
"I gave Jor the day off," Mrs. Bellatrix (or Elle as she preferred to be called) was saying, "and I have a pedicure appointment in an hour. You know where the money for pizza is, okay?"
Violet gave a dazzling smile (her "faux ami" smile, as she had privately christened it). "Yup; don't worry about it, we'll be fine. You don't mind if we invite a few boys, do you?"
"Of course not!" laughed Elle. "When have I ever minded?"
If you were a good mother, you would have! Violet wanted to shout. Instead, she laughed back, and shrugged. "Well, thanks, Elle. I'm going upstairs. Mr. Thompson would totally blow a fuse if I forgot my homework, since he's so completely strict!"
Violet tramped up to her bedroom and fell onto the bed, exhausted. She made a huge fuss, yelling down, "I'm on the phone, don't come up!" When she was perfectly sure that she wouldn't be disturbed again, she grabbed her backpack and climbed out the window. Her window was right below the attic window, and the fire ladder installed next to it enabled her to climb up to the attic, her true room.
With a sigh, she dropped onto the ground. She had dragged a cot up into the spacious attic, lit by windows and skylights. She had carefully painted some of the skylight panes so they were stained glass windows. With an old mahogany bookcase filled with classics and some of her favorite books, and a mini-refrigerator filled with fruit, yogurt, ice cream, and drinks, the attic was truly a haven from her false life.
She quietly walked across to a closet spanning one wall, and opened one side to reveal an entertainment system. It was a flat screen with a VCR and a DVD. It was also connected to her laptop, which was the latest model, and allowed her to write on the screen with a special program. There was also a video camera and a digital camera, next to an old-fashioned flash-photography camera and stacks of photo albums, scrapbooks, and scrap booking supplies.
Violet sighed and found her favorite movie, Pride and Prejudice. She had bought everything in the attic herself, thanks to her extensive allowance ($100 a week; Elle was rich). She inserted it into the DVD player, and grabbed the book. For half an hour, she watched in silence, munching on apples.
Finally, she glanced at her watch and sighed. Emma and Claire will be here soon; I have to go set up. With a last glance around the room, she stopped the movie, bookmarked her book, and climbed back out the window. In her room, she took off the ladder and stashed it somewhere in the basement, where nobody ever went.
Back in her room, Violet touched up her makeup and began bringing out chips and soda from her private refrigerator. Put on your casual face in three...two...one... Viola put on a casual countenance as the front door rang, and flopped onto her bed, picking up the latest Vogue that was sprawled on her circular bed before she remembered that Jordana, the maid, had the day off.
With a groan, Violet flopped over and pressed the intercom button installed on her wall. "Hellooooo?" she droned, taking care to use just the right amount of boredom in her voice.
"Ehmagawsh hey Violet!" shrieked Emma through the intercom. "Like, are you gonna let us in or what? We so didn't come all the way over here just to stand outside waiting for you!"
"Yeah, we've already been waiting for, like, a minute!" complained Claire.
"Ehmagawd I'm sooooooo happy you guys are here, you have no idea how bored I've been!"
"Well then, like, buzz us through already!" whined Claire. Violet rolled her eyes away from the camera set in the monitor, thinking, Oh just shut up, will you? I'm so tired of your whining! I hate you I hate you I hate you!
Violet laughed coyly. "I know, just gimme a sec!" She hung up and pressed star to let her "friends" in. Right after that, she hurriedly pulled on her new orange sundress with matching clementine flip-flops, and resumed her casual position and reading Vogue.
"Hey babe," Claire said as she sashayed into the room. Violet noticed that she was wearing a new outfit: a transparent turquoise shirt with a black tank top underneath and white shorts. Overall, the outfit must've cost at least $200. The money you spend on clothes could feed a whole third-world country, Violet thought, disgusted, as Claire plopped onto the bed beside her and pulled open a bag of Doritos.
Emma walked in after Claire, hugging a root beer to her chest. "Hey, is Elle, like, not here today or something?" she asked. "I was so totally hoping to learn how to stuff a bra properly."
Claire put down the magazine and gasped. "I know! Every time I try to do it, it's always so obvious, but when Elle does it, you don't notice at all!"
What?! thought Violet incredulously. However, she quickly joined in the conversation. "I know!" she squealed. "I am sooooooooooooo lucky I have such a cool mom! But seriously, how does she do it?"
The girls continued gossiping about stuffed bras until Violet finally couldn't stand it anymore. She pounced off the bed and grabbed her cell phone. "I'm bored," she announced. "Are we gonna stay here all day yakking about bras or are we gonna call over some hotties?!"
Claire and Emma immediately grabbed their phones as well and started suggesting people to call. "We totally have to hold a make-out party," Claire insisted. "We'll call a bunch of guys who have to pay to get a snog with us. It's a quick way to get money for movies, since all the guys are totally dying to kiss us."
"Okay we totally have to call Todd, and let Violet give him free snogs," Emma put in.
Violet shuddered inwardly, but grinned on the outside. "Totally," she chirped. "We can't use my $100 because I totally need that for clothes."
Suddenly, Claire gasped loudly. "Ehmagawsh hold everything!" she practically screamed. "We haven't picked out outfits yet!" She slapped Emma and Claire's cell phones closed. "We need something that will totally scream sex-kitten."
Sex-kitten?! What the hell?! thought Violet. "Ehmagawsh I totally knew that shopping spree Elle and I went on yesterday would come in handy!" she replied. "I picked out the cutest outfits." She led her "friends" over to her massive walk-in closet. "You guys can pick whatever you want after I choose my outfit!"
Violet walked slowly down the aisles in the closet. A black backless dress caught her eye, but she knew Claire and Emma would never let her get away with it. Eventually, she picked out an extremely short, backless blue halter dress and sapphire flip-flops. While Claire and Emma were picking out outfits, she applied makeup and straightened her hair just enough to make it totally eye-catching. Meanwhile, she was thinking, This can't end well. I practically throw up just kissing Todd. I really hope he doesn't try to go to second base... Or even worse, she realized with horror, third base! She almost groaned aloud just thinking about it, but she caught herself a second early.
A step sounded behind her, and Viola turned to see Claire and Emma stepping out of her closet. Claire was wearing a faded demi miniskirt with a white halter and white flip-flops. Emma was wearing a blue halter bikini top and a white skirt with blue flip-flops. Viola laughed and got up, saying, "The guys will totally be drooling just looking at us!"

Just a half hour later, over twenty boys were at Violet's house. They were just lounging in the living rooms as they waited for their turns with the girls. Those requesting Violet were in one room; those for Claire were in another; and those for Emma were in the last. Only boys deemed "hot" by Claire or Emma were allowed in.
Violet's first customer was a boy she had never seen before. "Hey," she said, giving him a coy smile. "Which base are you planning on going?"
The boy gave a smile just as sexy and leaned forward, whispering in her ear, "Only second. I'd go to third, but that would take too long, and I have a date with my girlfriend in an hour." He dropped fifteen dollars into the little basket by the bedroom door.
Violet was repulsed by what a player the boy was. Why the hell did you even make her your girlfriend if you're just going to go and cheat on her?! she felt like yelling. However, she just smiled seductively and placed his hands on her hips, sashaying into one of the spare bedrooms. "That's enough for me," she whispered back. She locked the door behind them, and let her hands travel up his well-toned chest, all the time thinking, Okay the next time Claire suggests this I'm saying no...
However, the boy didn't want to take things slowly, and immediately threw her down onto the bed. "Don't worry," he smiled. "I can't go to third this time, but I'll get you next time." He slid his fingers around her neck and started to untie her halter dress...

Two hours later, Violet was exhausted and disgusted at the number of players in the room. No one had gone to third because it would've taken too much time, and they all had a date later on. Claire sat counting the money, and looked up. "Not bad," she commented. "We made $255."
"Am I too late?" a deep voice asked, and a pair of hands encircled Violet's chest, making her emit a small squeak. Todd smiled at her. "Sorry I couldn't come earlier, babe, but my pops wouldn't let me go."
Before Violet could say anything, Emma giggled. "Ehmagawsh, she's been waiting for you the whole time!" She pushed the "couple" into the nearest spare bedroom and closed the door, giggling the whole time. "Have fun in there!" she called.
Todd smiled devilishly, and murmured, "I plan to..." His arms encircled Violet's waist as he pushed her onto the bed. She was petrified with horror, and therefore was unable to do a thing as he took off her dress and his shirt and shorts. "Don't worry, babe, I have a condom on," he whispered huskily.
She gasped as he started kissing his way down to her bra, which he mistook for pleasure, making him hurry all the faster.
Oh my God I'm being raped, was Violet's last thought before darkness seemed to swallow up her mind.

The next thing she knew, she was lying on her side, naked, in her bed, with Claire and Emma waiting impatiently for her to wake up. She sat up, slightly disconcerted by her appearance. "What happened?" she murmured.
Claire immediately pounced on her. "Ehmagawd I'm soooooooo happy you're finally up!" she shrieked. "We so totally need you to tell us what happened! How did it feel? Did he do any tricks? We need to know every single detail!"
"Um...what?"
Emma laughed. "You know, having sex with Todd! He didn't leave until nearly nine! It must've been spectacular... I mean, you've seen him in a Speedo! And, God, those muscles..." She practically fainted with rapture.
Violet was still slightly confused. "Um...what?" she said again, extremely intelligently. Suddenly, everything clicked. Todd...last night... "OH MY GOD!!!" she screamed, and sat bolt upright. For the first time, the used condom on the ground registered in her eyesight.
"I know!" shrieked Emma, having evidently misconstrued the scream as excitement. "You're actually the first of all of us to have had sex!"
Violet breathed deeply, still wrapping her mind around the fact that her first time had been spent with someone who only saw her as a piece of meat. I have to act excited was her one understandable thought. So, she gathered herself up on the outside, and launched herself into her performance, if only to put off the shock for later on. "It was sooooooooo perfect," she squealed.
"Did it hurt?" asked Claire, eyes wide with fascination.
"Duhhh, Claires!! What are you, stupid?!" laughed Violet. She knew that if she hadn't been the all-powerful one at that moment, she would never have gotten away with saying that. Even now, with such an "interesting" topic, Claire's eyes flashed with annoyance and anger. "But of course, when you're having sex, sometimes you're the one causing it, so you don't even notice!" What am I babbling on about?! thought Violet, alarmed. They're totally going to catch me at my lie!
Or not. Claire and Emma seemed to lap it all up, or at least enough for the time being to leave Violet alone. "Now then, what will you wear today?" giggled Claire, shifting the focus to clothing. "Run and take a shower to get rid of all that blood, byotch, and we'll pick out a slammin' outfit for you. We know what you like, no worries babe."
Blood? Violet thought, slightly uneasy. She got off the bed, and noticed that the sheets were covered in blood. Oh God... She picked up a bra and underwear as she went into her bathroom to take a quick shower before school started.

Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out, hair dry and everything. She checked her watch: 5:30. She had another hour before the bus would be there.
"Yoo-hoo, oh Viiiiiiiiii..." giggled Emma in a sing-song voice. "Wait till you see the outfit we picked out for you!"
Oh no... Violet thought, groaning inwardly. "Ehmagawd, what is it?!" she gushed. "C'mon, I have to change! We barely have another hour to do hair and makeup!"
Claire gasped. "Ehmagawd you're totally right! Ughhh, you ruiner!!" She slapped Violet on the butt playfully. Ewww get your hands off me, thought Violet, thoroughly disgusted. "We were so gonna make you wait another minute to see your awesome outfit!" With a dramatic sigh and roll of the eyes, Claire pulled out the clothes from inside the closet.
"Ehmagawsh that is soooooooooooo cute!!!" Violet squealed. It's actually not that bad, she reflected, thinking of previous outfits her "friends" had chosen for her.
It was a tight-fitting, white tank top with the words New York City written in glittery pink, along with a pair of low-slung jean shorts. There was a pair of burnished amber one-inch heels, and, as the ultimate accessory, a signature stripe demi Coach bag. "This is so totally awesome," she gushed as she slipped the clothes on.
As she pulled on the shorts, she remembered about the Todd problem. Her head swam with worry. Claire and Emma would want to know why she dumped him.
Therefore, as she walked out of the closet, Violet said casually, “You know, I think I’m gonna break up with Todd.”
As she had expected, this news caused not a little horror with Claire and Emma. “What?!” they practically screeched. “Why?!”
Violet shrugged nonchalantly and sat down in front of her vanity desk. “The sex was good, but not good enough for me, you know?” she said calmly, and started to straighten her naturally wavy honey-brown hair.
“But you just said it was perfect!” Emma was still struggling to wrap her mind around the “breakup of the perfect couple,” as she called it.
“Yeah, but it could’ve been better, and only the best will play it with me.” Violet smiled coyly at herself in the mirror. Please let them just drop it… she prayed silently. “What do you think: purple, indigo, or blue?” She held out three bottles of hair highlights, which she changed every day.Claire walked over and inspected Violet’s hair, then the bottles. She had gotten over the little shock rather quickly. “Definitely purple today,” she affirmed. She perched herself on the edge of the bed and crossed and uncrossed her long, tan legs. “But seriously though, why are you dumping him?”

A Mysterious Letter

The sun stole softly up the tiled rooftops, lighting up the world. At this time, four people awoke and walked out to their doormats, where they found a single letter.

To whomever this may concern~

I am calling on you and three others to assist me in uncovering one of the greatest "mysterious truths" of all time. Keep in mind that this will be potentially dangerous.

If you are interested and wish to further learn about my cause, come to the Dawn Hotel at dawn on Thursday, May 31st. I have reserved a room. Ask for Mademoiselle Celine Blanche.

Please do not contact the authorities, although you may bring up to 3 people. Realize that by doing so, you are putting their lives in jeopardy. Be sure you can trust these people literally with your life.

~Violet Warrior~

The strange letter was written on a strange piece of parchment. It was burned artistically at the edges, and swirls of violet decorated the corners. As a watermark, a long, shining sword shimmered in the bottom left-hand corner.

It was written in a curling script that spoke of elegance and grace.

The four people who had received this letter looked around the neighborhood, wondering if they were on a new reality series, or if they were being punked. Finding no one about, they turned and headed into their own respective homes, still wondering about the strange call for assistance they had just read.