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WARNING: THIS STORY IS SUITABLE FOR PERSONS AGED 15+ AND CONTAINS SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE PLUS REFERENCES AND STRONG LANGUAGE.

I am sure the moderators and some people will have taken a peek at the earlier draft of my book. It is based around a boy by the name of william who bumps into a new girl at school, an oddly attractive girl who has a very dark secret, And as he matures abnormally quickly, he believes he holds a mystery of his own. Yet at the same time, bodies are found, dead and drained of all blood, and others brutally mauled and deformed. Creatures who once ruled the night are emerging, and the target is humanity. but a plan has been hatched, one that could end even this scheme for world domination. But it may hold devastating effects for the rest of creation.

This book has been re designed after inspiration from several authors. I hope to re introduce true horror. therefore i hope you guys at NDA will give me lots of comments and constructive criticisms.

The first post will be uploaded within the next few days.

Enjoy.

Prologue.

It was Midnight, the hustle of those who were busy was ending, and the ongoing horns of cars had shrunken to nothing more than a whisper. Even the crickets, which break the silence in the dead of night, had been hushed and the worms had settled into the damp soil to slumber. Here, at mount Errigal in county Donegal, the place echoes with Legends of fearsome beasts that howled to the full moon, prowled the clouds in search of prey and ruled the stars in the night sky, since the beginning of the infinite void of time. This Mount’ sits, slumbering next to the poison glen, a valley surrounded by mystery, where the echoing tales of poisoned water lurk inside a pure, clear, reflective lake. It was here, at the strike of midnight that the pure, untainted lake changed with naught but a flash of light, from its pure water to a luminous, toxic red goop. A road runs alongside the lake. From the lake emerged an entity.
This entity took the form of a young woman around twenty years of age. She emerged from the neon lake with something clutched in her arms, wrapped in nothing but a towel. She was hooded in a dark cloak, hiding most of her features, all but some on her face, for you could make out a stern, cold, ghost-white face, and one eye was covered with golden blonde hair, whilst the other was simply cloaked in shadow.
She begins walking at a quick pace, with a care not to drop the package in her arms. After a few minutes, she finds a sign.
Doiri Beaga
Derrybeg 2km

This was what she was looking for, but she expressed nothing and started walking again towards her identified destination. Around twenty minutes later, she had reached the town and now changed direction, looking for the orphanage. With the newly found town, some more of her features were revealed with the dim amber streetlights. Her skin was pressed tight against her skull, showing a few of her veins and exposing her darkened bones. This gave her quite a stern appearance of one already dead. Even her skin appeared ghostly white in the light deprived night.
She reached the orphanage. The interior of the reception was roughly semicircular in shape, with white-washed walls, marble floor and a single counter, at which was a half asleep elderly woman, who barely noticed the hooded figure come in, due to her almost stealthy footsteps.
She straightened up.
“Wha’ can I do for ye love?” she yawned, stretching her arms.
The hooded figure remained motionless, and then she spoke with a ghostly air in a snake-like tone, half-rolling her ‘R’s indicating that she was not entirely native, her voice was so cold that it would surely have sent shivers up anyone’s spine.
“I found this child whilst I was on my way home, it was in the middle of nowhere so I decided to bring it here.” She said, still almost motionless.
The elderly woman was now wide-awake with fear; it was as though a bucket of iced water had been splashed in her face and had frozen on her instantly.
“Uh… ummm… yes, if you’d uh, if you’d like to come this w-way” she stuttered, shaking all over, rummaging through the drawers at the counter.
“Of course,” rang the voice again, like the bells at a funeral of one much loved.
The elder brought the figure into a dimly lit room, where three children appeared to be sleeping. One of them, a girl who appeared to be around twelve years of age, with marble-grey eyes and Blood red hair, mainly straight but with a few curls. She bolted upright, almost instinctively as the two women entered. There was an empty cot in the room. The elder took the child from the hooded woman and laid it inside its new bed.
“May the child sleep here? W-we’ve no where else at the m-moment.”
“Of course.” The figure replied.
The elder looked down at the baby, whose tiny face was poking out of the towel like a puppy, and did not even stir like the others.
“What would you like us to call the child f-for now… Miss?”
The elder turned around, the hooded figure was no-where in sight, it was as though she had vanished into one of the many shadows in the room, never to return. However, where she stood before, there was now a note.
The young girl, jumped down and handed the note to the elder without reading. The elder read it and wrote something on the cot the puppy-like child’s cot. Then she and the Girl left the room, enveloping the room in shadow. They entered the reception; the elder resumed her position at the counter.
“Amazing, how some people are so careless with their children these days. It’s as though people simply don’t care about the next generation.”
“I find it amazing that a woman found the child and had the sense to take the child here.”
“Indeed.”
“So what is the child? A Girl or a boy?”
“Boy,” yawned the elder.
“And the name?”
“William, Hish name is William.” She said and nodded off. The flame haired girl looked around at the wall and began mumbling nonsense to her self.
Back in the bedroom, the hooded figure had rematerialized at the boy’s bed. She looked down at the child and held the boy’s hands, scanning them.
There are two insignias on his hands, one on each. The one on his right looks like flames but this fades away quickly, before the figure could even touch it. The other is of five claw marks, as if the child has been scrabbed by a massive dog. The figure touches it with her index finger and it fades in the same way as the other.
Her expression changes, she was puzzled. She knew all too well what the claws meant, but the flame insignia, she had never seen anything like it in her many years of life. She shrugs it off. Destiny would play its part in due course.
“Fourteen years…” she said to herself and the child, and began walking into the shadows. She stops before she enters the corner shadow. She turns her head so she can just about see him out of the corner of her right eye.
“See you then…” she whispered and walked into the shadows, disappearing without a trace but leaving an echo to finish the sentence in a cruel, unforgiving tone, which matched the word that echoed.
“Wolven…”

Chapter 1
William

I find writing in a journal very useful, it allows you to keep a record of your feelings and happenings each day, not to mention the insults that are thrown at you daily, and if there’s anything you find truly offensive, you can use it to bust the arses that stuck you with the insult. I, on the other hand use it to keep me sane and to stop me going mental because of the family I have to live with!
My name is William and this is my third journal, lost one, ran out of space on the other. Therefore, I have started anew. So if anyone reads this after I’m dead and never knew me then here is my description. I am fifteen years old, I’m average height of fifteen year old Irish boys… I live in Ireland, and I’m reasonably built, as in, I’m not bony, but I’m not buff either. No, no six pack! I have mid-length blonde hair, sort of long, covers my left eye… its kinda’ lazy, may as well hide it, and my eyes are blue.
Now for the mental stuff. I like girls… as friends. Yes, I have no interest whatsoever in having any kind of love-struck relationship. At least not at the moment, and I have a hell of a strange family.
My mother Catherine is smaller than me, has auburn, curled hair, blue eyes and has a very kind, loving nature, which made her perfect for adopting me. She is not that into guys, as in the same way I am with girls. A trait that makes me wonder whether I am actually related to her biologically in some far off way. When it comes to disputes she will not rest until she has the last word, she’s not that good at cooking… so I do that, and like most women her age, she likes to gossip and poke her nose into other people’s business. Mainly celebs’ though. Rarely will she poke her nose into my business… because there is not normally anything of interest to her in here.
Her blood son however is not very similar to her and he drives me insane. Sure we get on now and then but other than that, we are constantly competing at… pretty much everything but relationships. This guy is Dermot. A black, greasy-haired slimeball who gets on my nerves, he has brown eyes, unlike his mother, he is quick tempered and always striking up arguments. He is sixteen, my height, and in my own, personal opinion a perverted dooshbag because he is ‘into’ girls and has been through so many I am pretty sure I don’t know any of their names. Plus he is under the dillusion that I am homosexual for the sole reason that I am not like him.
But perhaps those are the things I like about the arse, because although he is almost completely different from his mother, and me being adopted, we are family nonetheless.
I must now go to school in a few moments, so I will be writing in here from time to time, filling in the details of each week.

(Present)
At that I drop my pen, pick up my notepad and shove it into my school blazer pocket, shove all my writing material into my schoolbag, plus all my subjects for today. I sling the one strap bag over my shoulder and head onto the landing. Dermot, would have to be woken up so I bang on his door. Load of good it will do though. He always leaves it late.
Mum is in the kitchen, sipping a hot cup of coffee in what appears to be regular intervals of blowing the indigestible liquid dirt. She also has her face buried inside a newspaper. My guess is something to do with celebrities or the latest gossip. My reasoning is that it is the sort of thing she likes, ‘Poking her nose into other people’s business!’ pweh…
“You alright mum? You look a bit uh…”
She whips her head upwards at me, revealing a turquoise gunge-like substance on her face with two exactly circular uncovered areas, where she would put two slices of cucumber.
The very look on her face makes me jump in shock. Those spa treatments actually do scare me a fair amount, particularly the appearance of it on their faces. This kind of thing also makes me wonder why women cannot just accept the way they are so much that they must use up resources to temporarily fix those problems. But I guess I cannot say anything. I play card games.
“I’m fine. Its just that there’s a cookery course on now for three weeks. I’m thinking about joining. Just to improve my skills a little. Not that they need to be improved”
“Actually mum they need a lot of improvement.” The words were out of my mouth before I could retract them.
“Way to be blunt about it. Its on every weeknight for three weeks”
“That doesn’t sound half bad. Anything else I should know?”
“Yes, I will be home late for three weeks.”
“Anything else?”
“You guys get the house to yourselves for three weeks.”
“Anything else?” this is getting frustrating.
“Which means you can invite some people over”
“Anything else?!!!”
“Which means fun time!” she adds with a flirtatious wink, which was clearly suggestive of something. I flare up.
“GIVE ME THE DAMN PAPER MUM!!!” I yell, snatching the paper from her. She seems to find this somewhat amusing and goes into kinks of maniacal laughter.
“Well then I better go to work.” She says still laughing and takes her remaining coffee and empties it into the sink.
“You may want to take that green ‘cac’ off your face. Honestly, you look like ‘the mask!” that would drive her up the wall for a week at most.
“Just because I don’t know Irish, it doesn’t mean I cannot tell when you are talking crap!” she says vengefully, with a livid expression on her face.
How she always wins, I have no idea. Moreover, I have no idea how she knew I actually did say the word ‘shit!’ I guess I will never know. She goes upstairs.
After wolfing down my breakfast and clearing up, by which time mum has left the house, I dart up to my room to get my blazer. Dermot is still not up so I hatch a plan for later. He would be non-expectant of my scheme.
Round about half an hour later, I check the time. We would have to leave here in round about ten minutes. As school starts at twenty past nine and it is now nine o’clock. There is not even a sound upstairs, so he was still asleep. Master plan time! Hehe!
I bolt upstairs at lightening speed and stop at his door, getting ready to hold my breath. I touch the door and it slowly creaks open. Now I take about a minute to creep over to his bed. I bend over so my head is ridiculously close to his ear, my breath still held.
Without warning I get a whiff of his room and nearly gag because the stench is so foul. I take a breath through my mouth and scream:
“WAKE UP!!!”
In what appeared to be a fraction of a second there is a blurred mass of garments and bedclothes moving at lightening speed. He presses against the wall with shock, wide eyed and hyperventilating. In the meantime though, I cripple to the floor and begin howling maniacally with laughter.
“Jesus! The look on your bake! Gawd…” I cannot even finish the sentence I am laughing so hard.
After a few minutes of recovery, I get up. He is still pressed against the wall, holding bedclothes over his area. He is stark.
“Eeeeeeeew! Eugh! Jeez dude get ready you sick ba-”
The putrid stench of his room now fills my nostrils. I begin to wheeze.
“And open a window or something in here. SWEET GOD!!!”
I dart out of the room shutting the door and breath deeply. The good scent of clean air happily fills my nostrils, its like I’m breathing soup or something, but I highly doubt there is anything that stinks worse than that.
“Enough time to get a shower?” he yells from that decaying place he calls his room.
“We have to go in five minutes!”
“Damn. Give me two and I will be out and ready.”
“Well hurry the feck up then!”
I go into the living room and wait. As promised he comes down in two minutes; ready to go. We bolt out the door. I stay to lock it and then dart down the street to keep up with the dirty slimeball.
He abruptly stops at the traffic lights, allowing me to catch my breath.
“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” he asks bewildered.
“Because… You… Never… Want… To… aw crap.” I wheeze. As weedy as he is, it boggles my mind as to how he runs so fast.
Having recovered, I continue as we walk across the road.
“I knocked your door. Remember?”
He looks at me bewildered.
“But that was five minutes before you did wake me up!”
“No it was half an hour.”
“Oh… whoops.”
Yeah… ‘Whoops’ like that changes anything.
“And uh… by the way there’s a transfer student entering your class today. Apparently she’s pretty hot.”
“Why is it not surprising that it is you who finds out about this kind of thing?”
We hit some traffic lights, I actually have to grab him so as to prevent his death by a car hit.
A group of about five elderly women I know walk by. Dermot is oblivious.
“Hey there William. Hope ye have a good day at school now. Don’t you go gettn inte trouble now.”
“Got it. See ya ladies!” I wave to them. Dermot wakes up at the word ‘ladies’ and he whirls around saying something that sounded like “Wheredachicks?”
Having not seen what he was looking for he quits, hangs his head and walks along with me.
“Why’d you gimme the false alarm dude?” he asks me confused.
“For fun…” I snigger, “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”
His livid expression makes me rethink.
“That wasn’t funny, and what’s with all of the practical jokes all of a sudden?”
“Look I was just having a bit of fun-”
“But you know what I’m like nowadays. I hear words to do with femininity and I think of chics.”
“Wow check out the packs on those!” I say, pointing at a couple of married women talking to each other.
“Wha- YOU SONOVA B-” I silence him with my hysterics. He shuts his mouth tight and starts walking faster. Damn, guilt trips always work. Its like a natural weakness.
“Dermot, DERMOT! Will you just stop, look and listen to me for ONE DAMN MINUTE?”
As stubborn as he can be I am actually surprised that he stopped.
“Look, I understand that you’re going through a pretty tough stage and that my jokes today aren’t helping it. But you need to tell the difference between the REAL world and your imaginary world of… of-”
“Sexual intercourse?”
“Yes, that and the real world, the world we live in. Yes, without it no-one would be here and it’s a natural part of our development as guys, but overdosing on it the way you are, you are basically treating it as a god! Its like you are worshiping it. And yes, I know about that ugly stuff you watch on the internet. Not hard to figure out what the noises are! But, here’s what I mean…” I look around for an example.
“If I say ‘that blonde over there is really hot’ all you hear are the words ‘blonde’ and ‘hot!” he has been staring at the woman since I said the words.
I snap my fingers in his face. He flinches.
“THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN! YOU ASSOCIATE EVERYTHING WITH INTERCOURSE! Come on dee, has RE taught you nothing?”
He hangs his head slightly; the guilt trip kicks in again.
“I’m sorry I had to break it to you in this way b-”
“No William,” he cuts in, “You’re right, I’m becoming an addict, I’ll try to change, but it may take a while.”
We start walking, the school is now in view, and Dermot’s friends spot him and wave for him to join them. He starts to run, but I stop him. I give him the ‘remember what I told you’ look and let him go. He runs on to join his friends, and leaving me to walk by myself.
School started naught but five minutes later. My form class is gathered. My chill-out buddies consist of Isaac: (Isaac Glacier Brown) my partner in crime; John: (Johnathan Harker) the child genius; Bridget: (Bridget Isabella Caskey)generally nice gal; Veronica : (Veronica Midnight) scary loner and Chris: (Christopher James Embers) all out legend.
Our form Tudor took the register and began the announcements. Most of these involved sporting activities, which I don’t really care for. Then came something that was of slight interest to me.
“Ok, so baseball training on Tuesday is cancelled and uh… Yes! We have a transfer student in our class this year, in fact she should be here any minute.
Isaac leans towards me, clearly he had a proposition.
“Three pounds she’s a slut!” he says with a sinister grin on his face.
“No deal.”
He looks at me worriedly.
“Two?”
“cold.”
“One?”
“Freezing!”
He puts on his curious face.
“Five?”
“You’re on! At last you speak my language
He gets into his ‘straight face’ position. Our little gamble was attracting a bit of attention from the form tutor.
“Care to inform us of what is going on William?”
“Pardon?”
“Your gamble with Isaac.”
I look to him for support. He turns his head to face me, smiles and indicates to the form tutor.
“Fine! We bet five pounds on whether she… that is the transfer student, is a slut.”
He looks suspiciously at me. I hold my ground.
“I’ll match that.”
“WHAT?” this was such a shock that I actually yelped.
“I want in on the bet.”
“Are you against or…”
“I’m against her being a slut, but I bet she’s a punk.” He adds.
“Ok so I’m neither.” I state.
“And I bet she’s not a punk but she’s a slut. Deal?” Wyvern says eagerly.
“Deal!” me and the form tutor say at once. Isaac has a wide grin on his face, he must be pretty confident.
There’s a knock on the door.
“That will be her then.” He says and goes to answer the door.
“Is this twelve P?” comes a seductive, teenage girl’s voice from outside.
“Come on in.” he says.
Is it just me, or has the world suddenly frozen?

Chapter 2
Rose

There is a chill in the air, one I cannot get rid of. It echoes up my spine repeatedly, like a siren, as though it is warning me that there is something unnatural around, nearby. It continues throughout the day, originating from the moment the female newbie stepped inside the room.
Everyone else on the other hand, they seem unaffected by this ghostly air. The guys were all close to drooling at the sight, that including our form tutor, whereas the girls in the class found it necessary to glare furiously at this person.
The new classmate is called Rose, she wears black high heels to match my height, her hair is golden blonde and its moderately long, as in, it goes down to her shoulders. She appears slim, fit at the same time, and she has emerald green eyes with dark rims and ivory black lashes. Her skin is very pale and she has a strange, corpse-like appearance; as her skin appears pulled tightly against her skull but not so much to make her seem like a skeleton, yet at the same time it seems naturally smooth. Her lips are a blood, ruby red colour and they seem plush and lustrous. Her cheeks are tight as said before, yet at the same time, they seem perfectly rounded. Were it not for the ghostly air that appears to surround her, I would happily have taken it upon myself to try to flirt with her. Hell, I would have made love to her. However, my gut is wrenching so terribly I can barely utter a word. My only instinct is to get out of here at all costs. Although I am resisting this urge, it is taking its toll at a grave cost, because it is making me ill.
This I know because around five minutes into mathematics class, as she was demonstrating her amazing intelligence I felt a huge jolt in my system that made me come close to vomiting. Therefore, I ask out of class to go to the bathroom very often, even though now, at present I have nothing left in my stomach to regurgitate.
In short, Rose is almost every male’s… uh… I will just say partner for now. It was actually surprising to see our male teachers not drooling at the very sight of her, let alone her provocative gestures. Of course, no one wants to be accused of paedophilia. Yet one thing still eludes my vision; the reason why it is so cold to be precise. Why is it that when I gaze into her emerald, forest eyes, all I can envision is a ghostly hollowness, as though no soul resides within her. Perhaps I am asking the wrong question? Maybe I should be asking ‘What is it about her that makes her seem so…’
“Sexy?”
No, that isn’t it at all, why does she seem so…?
“William, You’re whispering to yourself again,” says Isaac from the seat to my right, “And I’m saying that Rose is sexy, or perhaps you haven’t noticed seeing as you are so busy gazing at your lunch?”
Huh? Aw shite.
I’m at the break table, supposedly eating my lunch as Isaac kindly pointed out but a moment ago.
“Sorry guys, I’m just…”
“Contemplating?” Chris enters.
“Internally monologueing?” Veronica states.
“Asking yourself why you haven’t got an erecti-‘Shut it!’ at the very sight of her?” Isaac bluntly states, with ‘Yours truly’ blurting in.
“Who?” Bridget asks.
“Rose! you dumb slut!” Isaac says both bluntly and rudely.
“There was no need for that Isaac! Seriously, you’re beginning to remind me of Dermot sometimes.” I remind him, ripping a large chunk of cheese and tomato sandwich with my teeth and happily munching away, in an attempt to regain some sense of consciousness.
“You are actually such a pervert sometimes, Isaac.” She retorts.
“What,?” Isaac mumbles astonished, “I’m comfortable with my sexuality, What is wrong with that?”
“You are a bit too comfortable with it Isaac” Chris states, almost impassively.
Isaac sits in a heap, his arms crossed and his head on top.
“By the way William, why the hell are you eating your lunch at Break?” Chris asks, with a confused expression.
“I had to fill a hole!” I reply after a moment, for I had to swallow a chunk of my sandwich.
“I would like to fill one!” Isaac sighs, looking at Rose, who is a short distance away.
Bridget, who responded to his remark with a back handed slap across his face, meets this remark almost instantaneously.
“Bitch!” he says, clutching his cheek. Bridget looks proud.
We enter form class after the bell rings and we take our seats at our tutor’s word.
“Okay everyone, this morning was a little inconclusive so ah… If Rose would like to come up and introduce yourself properly.”
“Okay sir,” she gets up and comes up to the front of the class, takes the computer chair that sir indicates and begins.
“Okay everyone, my name is Rose Dorchadas-”
“Heh… Dork-at-ass!” Isaac sniggers next to me.
“For your information Isaac, It translates from Irish as Darkness!” his happiness fades “So you may want to re-think your plans on dating her, man.” I say to him in a hushed tone in a vain attempt not to make eye contact with her.
“Thanks William, I know who to look out for now” she says to me winking.
At this, the vast majority of the males in the class doubled their efforts in trying to seduce her. Bar Isaac and I, my reasons are obvious now, whereas Isaac appears to be feeling rather told off and rejected.
She continues explaining how she likes certain things such as: shopping, music, PE, guys who are average height, blonde haired and blue eyed… thankfully there is no mention of Pale skin at this point, otherwise…
“I prefer guys with blonde hair, blue eyes, fit body, this height and uh…” she scans my appearance for anything she missed out.
“…and pale skin.” She says winking at me with a laugh. A couple of girls nearby nudge me and a few members jeer. So much for that.
I would have loved to have said the words “No offence miss, but we really don’t need to know about your taste in sex partners” but I had not even the guts to let out a whimper. Yet I imagine she would be a bit taken aback by that. Guess I’ll never know.
“Sorry, Rose, I would like to speak to William and Isaac, you don’t mind do you?” The form tutor asks politely.
“Sure.” She replies sweetly.
Isaac and I shift outside the door. Thankfully. Both of us are shaking, me with a cold and Isaac with ecstasy.
“Now then you two…”
“COUGH UP!” Isaac almost screams. Did the rest of the class hear that? There’s an unnatural silence.
“Uh…,” we both say at once, shuffling around, our tutor looks hopeful towards me. He wants me to back him up, neither of us wants to cough up the dough. I on the other hand am clueless so I simply shrug.
A frown breaks across his face. He was going to improvise.
“Look Isaac, you are too young to be gambling. For Christ sake, you are only sixteen! It’s illegal.”
Isaac grits his teeth and turns a similar shade of skin to mine… but he is livid with rage.
I on the other hand find a glint of smugness within me, which is reflected, in my whisper to him. ‘VICTORY’
“So why did you get us out here anyway, sir?” Isaac asks, suppressing his internal rage.
Our tutor ponders for a moment. His head is clearly elsewhere. Visible as he stares blankly at the ceiling. Isaac and I stare at him with twisted expressions.
“ah, now I remember, sometime today, I want you guys to guide Rose round the school. Chances are, as she is new she may get lost. So I picked the two trustiest guys in our class to do so.”
The dark expression spread across Isaac’s face immediately vanished, and it is replace by his former expression of hiding drool. Clearly, he would use this opportunity to try and ‘score a point.’
I on the other hand am still feeling the effects of the cold air I now feel. Therefore, I will attempt not to go near her anytime soon.
“I would rather not sir, unless it becomes truly unbearable for her.”
“I will leave it to you then Isaac.” Our tutor says and smiles weakly.
We go back inside, going in I could have sworn that Isaac said the word ‘score.’ That moment I admit, I felt sorry for Rose.
As it turns out, the girl is in no way a slut or stupid for that matter. She is anything but those (Inside the classroom). For example, she completed all her homework in a concise manner, with no questions incorrect and nothing left out in essays; all of which had an almost perfect vocabulary. Really, it was quite impressive.
However, outside the classroom however was a different matter. Outside the teachers’ eagle-sharp eyes, she was free to flirt and make guys blush as she pleased.
Not surprisingly, Wyvern attempted to flirt with her all he could in between classes. Even when they obtained time out of class for the tour, he attempted it.
At last, the bell went for lunch. The cold air still would not vanish, so much to the point I felt ill, making me regret having ate my lunch at break. I was on my way to history to drop off my bag when the cold air intensified.
She was nearby.
Feeling woozy, I accidentally side into a French room.
“William? I did not know you still did French?” the teacher said disapprovingly.
“Oh, sorry, I… my bad. I’ll just…” I mutter whilst I escape the room.
Wiping sweat off my forehead, I walk onward to history.
I’m at the door to my history room, when the door opens, releasing what appears to be liquid nitrogen temperature air. It is Rose.
“Hya William. Do you do history as well?” she asked in her hyperactive, almost feline voice.
“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I do.” I reply, attempting to hide the fact I am freezing and feel ill.
“Are you okay? Do you need the nur-… Come on!”
She may as well have dragged me to the nurse’s office, what with her abnormally strong pull. I am humiliated, as we pass hundreds of pupils, male and female, with half of the formers jaws dropped, some frothing at the mouth, as they would have killed to have a girl like her drag them. I could do nothing but go with her. It seems she will not take no for an answer.
Despite my fruitless efforts, I am actually glad now that she dragged me (even down the staircase) because as we reached the nurse, my gut begins wrenching, and I bolt to the nearest lavatory and barf up the sandwich I had earlier, shortly followed by a mixture of bile and other throat burning acids.
As I finish vomiting up the dire contents of my stomach, my throat searing from the acid, the nurse immediately calls mum. Then, following my ever more feeble efforts to stay at school, Rose proposes to stay with me. Wyvern, as he passed by, whispered a small bit of advice in my ear, which in nicer terms meant ‘just go with it.’
I feel out-of-place, sitting in an office, green faced, freezing and sick to the core with a perfectly healthy, extremely attractive, blonde, ‘woman-of-my-dreams’ class girl, who every now and then, chances quick glances at my crotch, as though expecting to see something protruding from it.
“Feeling any better?” she asks sweetly. My gut wrenches again but I suppress hurling.
“Urgh… no… no not really Rose!” I reply, lurching in mid phrase. Her expression changes. She appears slightly down.
“Look!” she sighs, “I am sorry we had to meet in this way William. I have that ‘cold air’ effect on a few people, normally those I will share a very close bond with as the trend suggests.”
Her explanation in my mind seems almost satirical, yet to me it sort of clicked. The sound of a car pulling up outside suggests to me that Mum will be in shortly.
I tell her this.
“That’s okay. If you don’t mind, I would like to call over to see you tomorrow, is after school okay?”
“I suppose.” I reply weakly, giving another lurch. I then cough up my address. Mum comes through the doors a moment later.
“Well, I better go now William. See you tomorrow, and get well soon.”
She obviously had no sense of hygiene. I could have had a bug. Yet she pecks me on the forehead, and as if a switch has been turned off, the cold air vanished the moment her lips touched my forehead, but I still feel ill.
Mum comes around the corner after witnessing the incident. She cocks an eyebrow.
I leave the school without saying a word, and enter the car, wishing I was still within the safety of the school. When mum cocks her left eyebrow like that, it means only two things! One: it is a load more gossip for her to choke on, two: I am about to be bombarded with questions to which I will not have time to answer.
Continuous questions of “Who was she? Why was she with you? Are you two hooked up? What does she get on like in class? How does she get on with the girls?” and the like are forwarded to me at a speed bordering on light speed.
It becomes too much to bear.
“MUM! I AM SICK! VOMITING WITH A SILVER BOWL IN MY LAP… STAINLESS STEEL, WHATEVER! I’M VOMITING AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS SOME NEW BIMBO AT SCHOOL WHO’S FIRST NAME YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW, AND YOU DON’T EVEN GIVE ME TIME TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS. I HAVE A HEADACHE. YOU ASK WHY I NEVER TELL YOU ANYTHING. IT IS BECAUSE YOU BECOME SO DAMN BITCHY AT TIMES LIKE THIS THAT I DO NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL JUMP TO ABSURD CONCLUSIONS!” I yell, outraged.
She was stunned. I had never yelled at her like that, ever! Worse is that I have to start again before I get a lecture about manners.
“I’M SORRY ABOUT MY ATTITUDE RIGHT NOW MUM AND I AM SURE YOU ARE ON THE VERGE OF SOME RIDICULOUS LECTURE, BUT I AM SICK AND AS MY ADOPTEE MOTHER YOU ARE NOT BEING VERY SUPPORTIVE TOWARDS ME. ALL I NEED RIGHT NOW IS TIME TO LIE DOWN, CLEAR MY HEAD AND GET SOME PEACE AND QUIET!”
She is paralysed by my words, trying to retort but only moving her mouth silently. Guilt trip time.
We do not say another word the rest of the car journey home. I attempt to clear my head, but all I can feel is a ridiculous gut wrenching weight in my stomach that I had been very disrespectful to her. At the same time I could not bring myself to apologise, It would be seen as a weakness to Dermot.
Night fell faster than I thought possible, or at least it seems much faster. I could not sleep that night. My thoughts swirled around that day’s events. With any luck, my vomit might put off her visit tomorrow, unless she has horrifically bad breath and cannot tell the difference.
I snigger at the thought, yet I stay awake all night pondering.

Chapter 3

What it feels like.
(Warning- Sexual references and content)

Today was passing at an alarmingly slow rate. Mum merely blew me a kiss before heading off to work. Dermot left without a word. Despite being completely food deprived, I did not feel the need for food. I lay in until two o clock roughly, when I finally decided to get up and invade the house with the cleaning equipment. After cleaning most of the house, I come to Dermot’s room. I have an instant flashback of the state of his room last I entered, I swear the decaying scent from inside simply reappeared inside my nostrils. I enter the room wearing the equivalent of a gas mask (an unused fishbowl with a hole covered with mesh) over my head. I clean up the filthy mess in his room, wiping up the muck left lying everywhere and cleaning a mysterious white substance off his bedclothes; I never want to find out what they are. Not to mention putting his magazines somewhere that mum would not even dare go looking through.
When the house finally smelt and felt clean and respectable, I return to my room to give a start at some homework. I finish it in minutes. Then I start up the Wii in the living room. It was better than going to school by far, but playing by oneself, after a while it can become just as boring as a mathematics class. It is ridiculous fun when it is Dermot and I, and even more when mum plays. Dermot arrives home within five minutes of my sitting down.
I turn around as the door opens. Dermot is in the doorway, a wicked grin is widespread over his slimy mug.
“William you arse!” he says excited.
“Nice to see you too. What’s crack a’ lackin’?”
“Why did you invite her over without telling me?”
“Who?” I reply, simply to annoy him.
“ROSE! THE SLUT! BIMBO! LADY SKANK! HOE! Whatever the hell you call her!”
“Oh. Oh yeah her. What about her?” I reply.
“YOU INVITED HER OVER HERE!”
“Actually, she just sort of invited herself over.”
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”
Fed up with annoying him, I actually ponder for a moment, thinking about how to answer.
“Dunno. I guess it just slipped my mind. Cop a seat. Brawl is in.”
Dermot grabs a seat and a controller after he calms down. In that time I down some flat Pepsi.
“So where is she anyway?”
I pull the neck of my jumper and look at my stomach.
“Not there” I laugh, “She is not here yet. She will be over soon though, which gives you time to get yourself respectable.”
He gives no response.
“Take a feckin shower!”
He bolts up the stairs. In five minutes, he was down again. Clean I might add.
“That was quick.” I remark. We play a game of ‘Super smash brothers brawl’ when the doorbell rings.
I get up casually. As I touch the doorknob, I hear something that sounds like ‘Oh no you don’t!’ before there is an almost ‘whizzing’ sound as Dermot darts at the door knocking me aside. Still with virtually no energy, I topple backwards into the ground, and my head ricochets off the polished wooden floor.
He in the meantime opens the door.
“Hi there, is William here?” a seductive teenage girl’s voice reverberates through the door.
“Down here!” I groan, clutching the bowl of my head, “Come on in.”
She walks in, wearing her school uniform, with a single-strapped bag over her left shoulder and a bulging plastic bag in her right hand, which presumably contains a change of clothes and shoes.
“What the… What are you doing down there-”
It needed no explaining. She whirls around and kicks Dermot in a sensitive place between the legs and she was wearing hard-high-heeled school shoes. He cripples to the floor and emits a quiet high-pitched ‘Shit’ sound. He would not recover quickly.
I then attempt to restrain her from assaulting him further.
“You stupid, dim witted, self centred ARSEHOLE! He has already been sick, and you decide to knock him to the ground just so you can answer a fucking door, and ogle up a girl. You are twisted!”
Her rant continued as she attempted to break free of my restraint. At last I get between them.
“William, what the hell are you doing, he was-”
“I’m protecting him Rose, If there is anybody who will be using him as a human punch bag, it is going to be me!”
“But-”
“LAY OFF HIM ROSE!”
She is stunned. Clearly, she was not expecting me to defend him like that, let alone to yell at her. Once more, guilt sets in immediately.
“Rose, I am sorry for yelling at you, but you were about to hospitalise him if you have not already done so. Now will you two please just make up so we can be civilised in some way?”
Rose as I now figure, is stubborn, and is not used to taking orders like that, but she was in no position to argue, and I had come to the border of blowing a fuse.
“Okay. Sorry William, and...”she pauses, “sorry.” She says to Dermot scathingly. He raises a hand to show his apology as he was still crouched, and clutching his crotch.
“Okay then, Rose, if you would like to enter the kitchen just through here…” I say to her kindly, raising my hand in the appropriate direction. She walks into the kitchen. As she passes me, I get a whiff of her perfume. A delicate, sweet smell. Almost that of Pink roses, but it has a strange almost hypnotic after-scent, which could pass for incense.
Shaking my head out of my little daze, I go over to Dermot to speak in whispers.
“Are you okay?” I ask, worried.
“Y-yes” he squeaks in a high pitch, still holding his crotch.
“Perhaps it would be a good idea to go upstairs for a while.”
“Okay…”
As he slowly crawled up the stairs, I could not help but feel partly guilty for his injury.
Shaking this aside, I walk into the kitchen.
“Hey Rose, can I get you something?”
“Oh no, I’m fine.”
“Some coffee perhaps?”
She ponders on this for a moment.
“Alright then.”
I turn to make her coffee. Now, after seeing her like that, she seems much less of what I had expected. To that extent, I shove a breath mint in my mouth to hide the lingering odour of vomit, now regretting having not used mouthwash.
“I am sorry about back there William,” she says taking a seat, “I couldn’t help it, seeing you like that, plus he and his mates have been ogling me all day.”
“Not easy being hot, is it?” I laugh, pouring the coffee into a mug for her, “But yes, I’m sorry too, he is in a dire need of a teaching in manners. I think it is something to do with a stage in puberty he is in but I am not entirely sure.”
I walk back to the table and hand her the mug, she takes it by the handle. I take a seat next to her but turn the chair so I am facing her.
She sips her coffee with her eyes closed, as though absorbing every drop of the burnished scent within the dark liquid through her nostrils, as though absorbing something else, other than the flavour.
“Sorry William, I am kind of stuffy, may I?” she asks, indicating she wants to undress to a degree.
“Um… go ahead I guess.” I reply, feeling anxious, “But you can take off your shoes if you want. We have underground heating.”
She cocks an eyebrow.
“Trying to hit on me already?”
I was shocked, as my earlier statement was just plain aul courtesy.
“What the hell gave you that idea?” I say, shaking.
“I dunno, you just seemed kinda forward.” She replies.
She stands up and removes her blazer and jumper, placing them neatly on the chair to her right. She then removes her tie. She then un-tucks her blouse and unbuttons it, to reveal her naturally slim, yet slender body. She slips her skirt and shoes off. Thankfully, she wears a bra underneath. She then takes her seat at an angle and relaxes, bending her legs back a bit. I try to avoid looking at her body, so as not to be rude.
“Thanks William. I don’t know how I got so stuffy anyway.” She sighs, then notices my eyes twitch.
“Is there really that much tension at this? Just take a look damnit! It will be better for you that way.” She says almost scornfully.
“Sorry rose, I was just trying not to be rude, its just it is a little… How can I put this gently?”
“Distracting? William, I have had guys ogling my body all day.”
“All the more reason for me, not to.”
She smiles at my honesty. After taking a sip, she looks up at the ceiling, as though looking straight through it at someone.
“He’ll come through, He just has to learn.” I say to her, gently.
“Good,” she replies, “Because I really have had enough of guys ogling me at every opportunity.”
“I am sure you would be,” I confirm, “And from what I gathered, Isaac is not much better.”
“You could have warned me!”
“Again, sorry Rose.”
“Honestly, do you men ever think before you speak or act?”
That almost blew a fuse. I am right in front of her.
“But what makes you say that?”
“Well,” she begins, “He was showing me around but then we ended up just walking and he fell for some of those common stereotypical things about women, Like how ‘we are all so materialistic and high maintenance’, all that bullshit. Then he decided to ask me out.”
A door closes in the distance.
“That figures…” I mutter under my breath. “So what did you say?”
“I agreed to meet with him. Hopefully it will shed some light on his true personality.”
“If it does, you’ll see no more light than I ever have, and I have known Isaac for the majority of my school days. I would like to think I know him better than most people.”
Rose gazes at me for a moment.
“I suppose you’re right.” She says, and takes a sip of her coffee.
“So tell me William, about guys. Are Dermot and those mates of his in some kind of phase where they just…” she makes a hand motion. I get what she attempts to explain before she can speak.
“I only wish it were so. There is a phase where guys want to… but they have gone through that phase and emerged worse. Dermot I think is recovering. Most of the time I recon they are just ah… Turned on.”
Rose sets her coffee down.
“William… Have you ever wondered what it feels like…” she asks, licking her lips suggestively.
“I try not to.” I reply coldly.
“No, have you ever?”
I can see where this is going, and I do not like it at all. Deciding that honesty better serves the occasion, I reply.
“I will not deny I have thought about it. But I never think of it anywhere near as often as Dermot.”
“Good.”
She stands up abruptly and slips her high-heels on again. She comes over to me, and sits on my lap facing me, her legs at either side. She places my hands on her waist, at either side.
I do not attempt to get her off. I do not want to be accused of assault or the like. That and I felt… I felt unable to move according to my will. As though paralysis had taken control until she gave orders.
She places her arms around my neck.
“Pull me closer.” She says, and I obey without a word. Her body touches mine, almost all over, and despite my mental repulsion, I feel strangely attracted to her regardless.
Her slender curves feel unbelievably smooth, and within me I feel a strange roar of excitement as even her breasts touch my own chest.
She leans forward, breathing softly in my face, the same scent of her body spreading with every breath.
“It feels something like this.” To that end, she presses her lustrous red lips to my own, uncoloured lips. I am instantly overwhelmed by a strange sensation of victory, or acceptance. Then I feel nauseous, as I had forgotten to breathe through my nostrils. Her lips are soft, warm and tender, she began inserting her tongue into my mouth, and moving it in circles as though making some kind of incantation within me. Despite the unbelievable pleasure it gave me I still get that disgusting impression that I am kissing a corpse (A feat I hope I never live to experience).
This continues for some time, and we continue to caress and massage each other’s body’s. Then as though in unison we move into the living room, and lay on the sofa, with me underneath, where she then began making some obscure movements, but they attracted me to her further, and every now and then (Five times if I am correct) she nibbles at my neck. The door opened and closed twice during our time.
When the clock struck nine, we stop. Feeling remarkably satisfied, we get up and dress.
“Well, that solved the problem, didn’t it?” Rose says, sighing from satisfaction.
I feel unable to speak, even as we dressed, perhaps because I feel dirty, sinful, or infected. Rose turns to me, having redressed abnormally quickly and pecks me on the cheek.
“And if it hasn’t, I may need to rent a hotel room to take it further.” She says with a wink. I cannot help but blush at it all. We leave the room.
Mum is waiting outside at the foot of the stairs, an evil grin worming its way across her face- something every mother may do just to embarrass her children.
“Sounds like my little boy got some action there. Did you enjoy it?” she asks wickedly.
I know mum. She would keep us standing there, immobilised until she gets an answer that suits her, even for an eternity. She never loses interest.
The tension increased for me. Rose seems much more relaxed and turns to me. Now I have both women chewing at my ropes. Great! I may as well give in.
“Yes…” I sigh, regretting having said the word.
“And if he is a lucky boy, I think I might rent a hotel room at the weekend… for two.” Rose says flirtatiously to play along with mum’s twisted idea of a joke.
“What’s your name?” mum asks her with a raised eyebrow. Finally the attention is away from me.
“Rose Dorchadas.” She replies in a very matter-of-fact tone.
“Oh, then Rosie; do you mind if I call you Rosie, no? well, could I talk to you for a while? William, go upstairs to Dee, I think he is feeling a wee bit lonely.”

(Journal)
Saying he is lonely is one way of putting it. My way of describing his mood would probably have something to do with a mob.
Inappropriate questions were hurled at me left right and center. Questions like “Did you G-H-B?” or “Did you get it in?” all of which I had to answer honestly. The word ‘no’ was my most used word within our ‘conversation.’
Roughly half an hour after I entered his room, Rose came up.
“Okay guys, your mum has asked me to stay for a few nights. Tomorrow is Friday so I will probably go shopping in town. William is in no state to go out with me so that leaves either someone from school or… You, to go with me.” She said, suspiciously eyeing Dermot, who is in a red chair still holding his crotch. At least that was what I saw.
“Aaaand… yeah its bedtime now so, night boys.” She said, giving me a flirtatious wave.
As it now happens Dermot and I are sharing the same room-His. We will be in a bunk bed, whilst Rose will be using my room. As we settled down to sleep I decided to talk to Dermot.
“Dermot, she gave me a hell of a lot of action but… I don’t want to take part in that kind of thing too soon. There could be some pretty dire consequences if I do. So what I am trying to say is: she is short tempered. Be nice to her, it pays off. You’re up man” and shortly before i left the room to write this down, I could swear I heard him say “Fuck yeah!”
As this is still my journal entree, I feel I must note my feelings earlier. It was strange, almost as though intercourse could truly have taken place. Not that it would have been a bad feeling, but I worry about such incidents. Although I am a virgin, I still worry. Rose to be honest gave me my first experience of what it feels like and I don’t want to engage in that kind of act, at least not for a month or so. All the same, I did enjoy it. The very feel of her body against mine gave me a sense of victory and yet longing. Even her skin which was smoother than I thought possible, felt tender to the touch. (And I must admit I took a liking to the feel of her legs, just in case she peeks at this. I get the feeling she will. Not a woman in the world who is not nosy!)
Perhaps that will do for now.
Log out.

Chapter 4
Visions

The blonde haired girl lay down on the young boy’s bed, a surprisingly comfortable one that massaged her shoulder blades, and fitted her to an exact comfort zone in the hours of twilight and shadow. It was soft, and fitted her in a strange way, despite that the boy himself was a fair amount taller than she was. On that matter, she found him remarkably attractive and earlier that day she came close to the point where she seriously wanted to take their intimate relations to another level had it not been for her mission.
Then irritation set in as his image continually cropped up inside her mind. Always, it appeared right next to her with that same grim appearance she had seen the day before, as an amassing of undigested material made its way out of him via his own oesophagus. This began changing now and then, into a dark figure who always glared at her for no known reason to her.
Yet, at the same time, she felt childish because of her actions earlier. She was so sure of what he was, but he was oblivious to what she had taken from him. She imagined him looking in a mirror at his neck, and him thinking about how much of a filthy whore she was. This made her smirk briefly, but then she remembered the five tiny vials of the golden translucent liquid on the desk next to her. She took two of them, and began fiddling with them between her fingers pondering over his oblivion. Either he was not whom she had assumed he was, he had not changed yet, his senses were still developing or he was not yet mature.
As she fiddled with the liquids sitting in her hands, once more the dark void of dreams engulfed her in its daggered maw. Yet again, his image cropped up, and again, she did not attempt to escape it.
She darted upwards in the bed. There was another entity in the room besides her. It was standing by the window, and was hooded, casting a shadow across the room whilst the pale moonlight casted sparkled lights along the walls and along the rug in the centre of the room. The entity was tall, and silhouetted, hiding its face and all other features.
The girl held her ground and stood up, despite the fact she was barely clothed due to the unexpected change in plan that she would be staying overnight. She stood in her underwear and a jumper. She glared at the hooded creature, whose gaze drifted to the two bunged vials in her hand.
“I was intending to take those whilst you were asleep.” It was a male voice, but a cold, punishing and almost snake-like voice, “You seem uneasy. Is it the boy?”
She was cautious. At this stage in her mission, it would not sit well if she became compromised. Yet officials had sent the figure. He was her counsellor, her companion, the one who kept her focused.
“I feel a constant desire to be with him. Infatuation is the symptom if I am correct, His image, It just keeps appearing every time I go to sleep or attempt to rid myself of it.”
The figure walked forward until he was roughly two meters from her.
“I have no experience in dealing with a creature like that. His kind fell into the void of extinction the best part of a thousand years ago, as I am sure you are aware. Our archaeology results have shown some rather disturbing facts. There was a prophecy, written in Gaelic which foretold the return of an extinct predator who would bring about the next apocalypse. It further tells of a rival who would lay waste to the world before the other obliterates it. Of course this was nothing but a prophecy taken even farther back than we thought possible. Now! Did you fill the vials?”
She hesitated, then turned and carefully took the remaining three vials and handed all five of them to the figure.
“Here. Every drop of it is precious.”
The figure held up the vials and observed the golden liquid sparkle lightly in the pale moonlight.
“Where are the cells?” he asked.
“I was unable to extract them without revealing myself fully.” She said, the figure looked dismal, “Did you truly think I would reveal my true form in front of him? No, I do not want to blow my cover. He believes me to be a whore of a schoolgirl, and whilst i find that very thought despicable, it is my cover. Should I reveal myself then he, like master Harker will react. In Williams case it may be much more violent. What is that?”
The liquid was sparkling wildly as something shiny sank its way to the bottom of one of the vials. She reached for it and looked closely, as the lump of silver materialised before her very eyes.
“Silver. Silver molecules all spread out throughout his blood in a large concentration. If he is that species, I believe then that their weakness may have finally been overcome.” He said, looking at another vial.
She became on edge, giving him back the vials with extremist caution.
“Be on guard your highness. When will the scars surface?”
“Within a week as I have now come to realise.”
“Again. Be on guard.”
“I shall.” She said, being careful not to break eye contact.
She looked around, to his wardrobe for a moment, as one of his items of clothing had just fallen off its hanger. When she looked back, the figure had disappeared without a trace, leaving an ominous layer of moonlight carpeting the room. She went to his wardrobe and hung up his fallen clothing. It was a black tee shirt with a flame pattern, almost in mint condition.
As she closed the doors to it, she saw his journal on his desk, laying wide open. She went over too it and let the pale light illuminate it to her eyes. As she read its contents, she became disturbed by his written, innermost thoughts. He had detected her cold air effect, and he had been feeling suspicious of her all day. He had also written in some of the days events, including his experience that day. She smirked as he wrote of sneaking a breath mint into himself to hide the vomit aftertaste. As he went on to describing how he had felt as she kissed him, a strange sense of joy arose in her, a feeling of accomplishment, But he had also described the biting of his neck. If only he knew the truth.
She closed the journal shut, climbed into his bed again, and closed her eyes. Then opened them as another vision appeared. He was looming over her, his skin pulled tight against his skull, revealing his veins clearly. His hair appeared greasy and filthy, as though it had not been washed in years. His clothes were torn almost everywhere, the tee shirt she had seen earlier had been ravaged by claw marks, and it was washed with dirt, and in several places the gashes appeared new, as blood was still oozing out from his wounds. Then she saw his eyes. They were dark, black as the night sky with his iris blushing a terrible crimson fire, and they narrowed, giving him a punishing, cruel appearance, which would paralyse all who may behold. He frowned, gritted his teeth and his expression grew into a snarl as his upper lip curled upwards and beheld, as multiple ivory dagger like canine teeth broke their way through his maw.
She fell back in shock, as though the devil himself had appeared in front of her. She gritted her teeth, and looked at him again, making tears well up inside her eyes as the image changed.
He was kneeling, rocking back and forth, with his arms cradling something, the nature of which was unknown to her, he was crying, not with the norm of meaningless sadness, but with the salty tears that arise when a loved one has died in their very arms. He was soundless. Only her own panicked breaths and heartbeat could be heard in the darkness.
He looked up, his lips trembling and his eyes bloodshot and a demonic red fire raged inside his iris’ with rage, and pain.
She could not keep looking. She fell back on the bed once more and blinked. The image was gone and it was not replaced.
She pondered the meaning of this. Had she imagined it all? Were her eyes playing tricks on her? What had it meant? Was it symbolic of his future? Was it his future? Why was he kneeling? Why was he…?
She stopped as a terrible realisation occurred to her. His eyes had been watery in the image. He had been crying, ‘But why?’ she asked herself in silence. ‘Why was he crying? Did he lose something? Or someone? What was he cradling?...
These internal questions never were answered, as her consciousness was lost to the dark void of dreams. However, before its dark maw swallowed her, a single tear waved its way down her cheek, staining her pillow with but a tiny blotch of moisture.
In the distance, a woman's scream could be heard, as though seeing a terrifying sight, but it was halted gradually as the scream died into a whisper.

Chapter 5
Possession

(Journal)
I awoke this morning with a start. There had been disturbances last night, and I had heard Rose talking to someone last night. Although through the wall it was but whispers, but I heard some things, such as her smirking at something, and also her crying. Thinking back, I wish now I had been there for her... because despite all of her slut-like behaviour and strange actions, I find myself in a position where I want to be close to her. To be there for her when she is down or in distress. To be her... her... her friend. Perhaps more...
Anyhow, I had awoken this morning with a start. I was dirty, unusually dirty for one my age. I will be sixteen in but a week, give or take a day or two. But I was filthy, brown with soil and muck in blotches all over my body. I took a shower, hearing mum and Rose awakening early and beginning to dress and going down the stairs. Washing the dirt off my body, face and cleaning out my fingernails (An especially dirt filled place). I went and got dressed in my uniform quickly before entering my own room. She-Rose- had sprayed her perfume on the bedclothes and furniture, presenting her dark incensed fumes throughout my room, and this-My journal- was closed shut. She had been looking through it and on the previous page to this, She had laid a kiss mark on it, right next to my entry about our kissing incident. Clearly she had approved of my actions. Plus, she had also left a page on my desk, a diary entry in fact. As I read it earlier, I noted that it was almost like a response to what I myself had written. In her little extract she highlighted her interpretation of the day, with our little ‘intimate experience’ as she so kindly put it. She also displayed worry, as she spoke of my neck and her bites. Upon finishing reading it, I entered the bathroom to inspect the damage.
My own reaction to the gummage inflicted upon my throat was not positive, in fact far from it. The bruise like damage was not small, to say the least, but it appeared to be pasted on most areas of my neck. She is a nice girl, no doubt about it, but she truthfully needs to get a grip and figure out that behaving like a whore is not a good look. I am however glad to know that breath mints really do work their magic. Next time I will be much more careful.
Log out.

I set the pen down for a moment, then grab my diary and turn back to the page with the kiss mark and I go down the stairs. Two women were laughing in that hushed way women do, obviously gossiping about someone who was absent from their gaze. My problem, is whenever two women or girls talk, it is far too fast for me to understand so I have to take a minute to slow it all down to a comprehensive speed.
I at last enter the room, and their conversation slows down a little. They begin talking about me, as though I myself am absent, despite the fact I am watching them keenly from the sink. Not surprisingly, they bring up the incident yesterday.
“I swear Catherine, his body feels so good, it’s just so built up. I mean his arms feel so muscular and generally I felt safe with him.”
“His dad was like that, with the arms around your waist like that, and the way his fingers touch the spine...”
“Exactly!” Rose replied with increased anxiety and confidence. I was not amused.
“So you gave birth to me then? I was always under the impression that I was ADOPTED!” I say, smirking. Mum whips around, scathingly glaring at me.
“Yeah, but I still know your techniques with women.”
“She is my first, and more to the point, how the hell do you know these things?”
“That is for me to know and you to find out William,” she says, appearing to grow impatient, Rose has been smirking for some time now, “And since you two are such good friends, I will leave in peace ‘till I get a shower.”
She gets up, moves over to the sink, dumps the coffee she has been sipping into the sink and moves out of the room. Rose and I take seats, this time ones opposite each other. Not beside each other, as I have no intention to enter the same incident less than a day later. She has next to no clothing on her, and is wearing a red, silky dressing gown. She wears no shoes, thanks to the heating.
I set my cereal and tea on the table and sit to converse.
“I’ve a madwoman for a mother.”
“Play nice William, she’s not mad. Not by my standards at least.”
“Still, do you reckon she did that deliberately? Leaving us alone like that?”
“Yeah, I had asked her to shortly before you came down.” She says, flashing her lashes at me. I cock my right eyebrow.
“Thanks for reminding me, care to explain this?” I ask scathingly, showing my neck to her so she could see the mass of bruise-like marks.
“Ah, yeah, sorry about that William,” she said, looking slightly downtrodden facially, “I did not think it was so bad at the time. Sorry...”
My stomach wells up with guilt, but I still need explanations.
“And what about this?”
I show her the kiss mark on my journal.
“Well, what is so bad about that?” she asks, “I mean it’s not like its obscuring anything.”
“I’m only curious as to why, and I thought you women had manners, for someone who speaks so freely about men having small brain capacities to one’s face- Yes, I noticed- you have a bit of nerve to go and loot through someone’s private possessions without permission.” I pushed.
She seems almost paralysed at this.
“Don’t be thinking I am deliberately patronising you, I just want a few answers.”
Her jaw drops slightly, no doubt considering her next few words carefully. The guilt becomes unbearable so I continue in a caring tone.
“Sorry, I should be less patronising. Forget I said anything.”
“No. I’m sorry; I should not behave this way. I’ll try to change but it will take some time.”
Her words seem oddly familiar, as though I have heard them before. I swipe the thought aside.
“So how are you managing as ‘the new girl?’, I would have expected you to ditch during the first few days.”
“Strangely I like the school. The teachers are nice provided you don’t get on their bad sides and do the work, as I am sure you know too well William.”
“Yeah and I get that gut wrench when a friend is getting spat at.”
She laughs briefly. I notice it is a nice laugh, not maniacal like a few of the girls, or annoyingly nasal, but just…--Nice really. Caring, soft, a pleasure to hear. It is oddly fitting, and at times like this I find her a little too perfect. Too good to be true as some may say.
A thought occurs to me.
“Rose, pardon me for asking but what age are you again?”
“Sixteen in two weeks. You?”
“Sixteen in about one.”
“Damn. Looks like the hotel will have to wait.” She says looking down, but not in despair.
She bolts upright.
“When is your birthday?” she asks with newfound energy.
“Today; next week. Why do you ask?”
She crosses her legs the way most women do.
“Well, I was just thinking, but if you were planning on going somewhere…” she pauses, to think her words through.
“Go on…” I reply.
“Well… If-If you don’t mind that is, perhaps we could… go somewhere together.”
I was shocked at this. I had never really been asked out by a girl, let alone gone out at all.
“Only if you want to though, I mean if you don’t then-”
“I would like that.” I reply, cutting her off slightly.
“Wow. R-really?” she says, sounding a little shocked herself, “Er-I-I mean, Yeah. Yeah that would be cool.”
She sounds oddly uncertain about herself. I don’t like it. Its as though she was not really expecting me to say yes. It seems almost like a prank.
“Are you okay William?”
“Hmm?”
“You were staring at me weirdly. You’re not-”
“Good god no. I mean, I just sort of- y’know- Phased out.”
“You were staring at my chest William.”
“WHAT?” Had I actually been daydreaming and looking at her chest? She finds this somewhat humorous and undoes her dressing gown, exposing her full body in my view.
“Want some?” she asks.
“No thanks Rose. As uh-‘Tempting’ as it is I have a fair amount of homework to catch up on and not much time to do it so…”
She poses next to the chair to my right and pulls back the gown, licking her right index finger and slowly brings it down her neck, chest, cleavage, followed by her exposed abdomen and begins to move her finger into her lower underwear suggestively.
“Okay Quit it.”
She moves her right hand into the underwear and begins undoing her chest wear. That drew the line.
“Rose, STOP!” I almost yell, losing patience with her games.
She bursts out laughing at my foolishness. She would never have actually stripped in broad daylight in full view of those across the street. I feel embarrassed.
She calms down and punches my arm.
“Come on will, I was only winding you up.”
I am still a bit flared up but I calm down shortly and look at the time.
“Quarter to eight, we better get ready.” We go upstairs to change.
Mum offers us a lift down to school. She had not forgotten about the little incident earlier and begins making a large yet embarrassing conversation all directed at me. She even resorted to calling me a night stalker. Not necessarily a mythical creature on that note. I say nothing, lest I dig myself a hole. Rose is unusually quiet, and she appears lost, deep in thought. This is noticed by mum.
“What’s the matter Rosie?” she says, intruding as usual.
Rose almost bolts upright as though she suddenly noticed her lack of thought.
“Oh, sorry I think I forgot to do my geography homework.” She says uncertainly.
“Don’t worry, Mr Leneghan’s a legend. He won’t take it the wrong way.” I say to her comfortingly.
“Plus all new bees get a first offence.” Dermot replies. He actually seems polite.
“Thanks guys.” Rose says quietly. I gaze at her for a moment.
“What’s the matter William? No words for your woman?” mum asks in that annoying smart-aleck tone.
I’m surprised I did not blow a fuse there.
I turn to face the window as something slaps me. Rose had said she forgot to do her geography homework but she doesn’t do geography for GCSE. She does history. Why would she lie? Why would she need an alibi for something so small and insignificant?
Now I feel as though there is someone intruding into my mind, because I could swear I feel a voice saying “Yes, but they don’t know that now, do they?”
It seems like more of a statement than a question but I feel as though the voice was Rose. However, it was cold and slithery, more serpentine than anything.
Nonetheless, I shiver at its ring.
Mum drops us off and we walk towards the school. Rose and I walk slower as we hold hands. I take her to the side of the school by surprise and into the shade where I kiss her.
She makes her suggestive groans again.
“Mmm, William, Aw William, not in public.”
I pull out because I need answers. I wait a moment to catch some breath before I speak.
“Sorry Rose but I had to ask you, why did you lie to mum and Dermot about geography.”
A look of realisation creeps across her face. She sees now I used the kiss as a distraction.
“Sorry William. You’re great an’ all but I don’t quite feel comfortable enough with you to open up that much.”
She gives me a kiss on the lips and walks off. I find her little excuse hard to believe. If she is comfortable enough to strip and almost-do it-with me, why is it so hard to tell me the truth about something?
*
My thoughts course through me the whole day at school, constantly pounding against my head like a beast in a cage. I end up going to the chaplaincy to clear my now throbbing head. I am not however the only person present.
Earlier I said that Veronica Midnight was a scary loner, there are multiple reasons for this, one is that she has a strange tendency, or rather-ability- to predict things before they happen. Why I noted her as a friend-simple- I have know her for as long as I can remember. She is a bit of an outsider to our little group of friends, that is- she is rarely seen in the mall at break or lunch. This is because she spends most of her time at the school chaplaincy and as I later learned, she leads a very strict Christian lifestyle. Quite a lot of the time she is remarkably Philosophical, and she speaks in riddles frequently, which makes it hard to converse with her. Then there is the scary part. Despite her religious lifestyle, she claims to have seen visions of the apocalypse and other such things. Her general appearance is strange too. She has flame/crimson hair, which is never tidy and rarely brushed, she is short, average body, and most strangely; she has marble grey eyes. That seems fine, as plenty of people have such eyes, but she is different. She never closes them, the left one is normally bloodshot, and neither of them have pupils.
I enter the triangular shaped chaplaincy. A wave of warmth washes over me, and the frankincense’ scent assails my nostrils. My head ache disappeared. Veronica is in one of the rows. Today in class, she was very unusual, shivering madly and shuddering uncontrollably. Yet here she is, her shivers warmed and her shudders stilled. At times like this I swear there is something special about this small hall of worship.
I cross myself with the holy water and take a seat beside her.
“Hello Veronica, what about you?” I ask her friendly.
She does not respond immediately, unlike everyone else.
“William.” She states in a whisper, in her cold echoing voice. She did not even turn to face me.
I sit still, my fingers interlinked. I say a quiet prayer to my angel guardian within myself. I too am a very religious person.
“Do you ever wonder, William?” she asks me, her eyes fixed on the crucifix, “Why those who pray to their guardians, always seem to be untouched by the dangers of life. When Dermot crosses the road, you hold him back from an oncoming car? When a car crashes, those who pray are usually untouched, and when they are touched, or hospitalised, they always pull through? When Rose attempts to kiss you, you pull away as though aware of some unknown danger?”
I remain still, because I know she will answer momentarily.
“It is as though something, or someone, always intervenes to prevent injury, or casualty. You know this, as something within you simply wills you forward to grab Dermot. It is as though something wills these actions by passing through us like the wind through cloth.”
Her riddle to an extent makes sense, but I dare not speak. The same spirit seems to tell me not to talk.
I try to leave but she grabs me. Something has changed in the room. I look around the chaplaincy, the room appears darker, more sinister. Veronica begins shuddering again, and shivering. The ground appears to melt itself into a black mass. The candles blow out by no apparent wind. The crucifix turns itself upside down, and the Paschal candle blows out, which means that God is no longer present. The world blushes a red tint to my eyes, the walls melt downwards, extinguishing the light from the windows. Then I hear it, the screams. Screams of those burning, their shrieks of agony in the depths, their continuous wails like the echo of a funeral bell. Hands reach up from the ground, the souls of the damned. They writhe and swipe each other, seeking nourishment from their eternal punishment in this fiery muck beneath me. I look to veronica, she is smiling wickedly, as though all her teeth had been sharpened like a knife, and her eyes, those cold emotionless eyes, now blaze with a black inferno. Then she speaks with a voice that is not her own; Or voices- hundreds of them all saying the same words like a legion of possessed soldiers.
“The sun is blotted, the greenery burned, the sea deserted, Life has departed…”
The holy objects now bleed, the red liquid drips from the misshapen face of the lord, and his hands, and his feet. The chalice fills with it, and the golden sculpture melts away to a boned hand holding a baby’s empty shell of a skull, with the blood oozing out of it.
“The light torn asunder by a violet whip, the shadows blurred by a crimson flare…
The heavens are breaking, the underworld is rising. He who commands the darkness is awakening. He who will bring Armageddon is arising… He who breaks the midnight silence with howling is coming.”
I tear free of her grip and try to run, but my legs fail to obey. They wobble, cripple, they are torn at by the souls beneath me. One stares me dead in the eye, with its faceless, flesh torn face and speaks with a woman’s voice.
“Let the moonlight be your guide, the beast awaits outside.”
I have to get out. I am terrified.
The souls still swipe at my clothes, even as I run out, they writhe about like misshapen, deformed beings. I dare not dip my hand in the water, as it is replaced by a dark red fluid which I have no intention of exploring.
I bolt out the door, and dart to the stairs, I have to get out. But my legs are still gelatinous, I fall and the dark netherworld creeps towards me, and a dark figure emerges. A huge figure, with two large pointed ears, hands with fingers much larger than any I think possible, and they are pointed. It stands on two legs, both of which are abnormally large. It is covered in hair, as I can tell from its silhouette, and it has a tail, swishing loosely from side to side in no particular fashion. It comes towards me, slowly, the way a predator would to its unsuspecting prey. I attempt to shuffle away, but I feel as though my legs have broken, and are fixed in place.
It draws ever closer. It bends down so I am staring into its face, its mouth opens, revealing rows of ivory white teeth, its breath hot and acrid upon my nostrils. At last I look to its eyes, they are closed. It draws them open, and I yelp. Its eyes are a dark, luminous red like the fires from the deformed chaplaincy.
My eyes are wide with horror as I realise a truth.
The creature bounds forward, scarring my left hand with five gashes, each far too close to my tendons, and I scream in pain.
I can hear footsteps, quickly pacing up the stairs. They do not reach me, as the world melts away; my senses flicker for but a moment. I try to keep my eyes open, but the void’s dark maw swallows me whole.


If anyone enjoys what i have written, i would very much appreciate any comments or constructive criticism you may have to offer. thanks very much.

Chapter 6
Abilities.

I hear voices. Muffled by pillows and rags next to my ears. At least that is the way it feels. I have pins and needles in my hands and feet, and my body is stiff. I feel paralysed.
The voices went on in their gibberish nonsense, around four of them as I can make out: Two female, two male. This comforts me with the knowledge I am not alone and I am not dead. The darkness is fading, but I still remember what happened; The demonic incarnation of the chaplaincy, the possession of veronica, the two prophecies and the beast. My fingers twitch. My eyes flicker. I am regaining consciousness.
Someone grabs my hand, it feels like a girl’s but the pins and needles simply reverberate up my arm.
I feel my ears twitch, as a high-pitched squeal appears to sear through my flesh, so much higher than a dog whistle. I flinch with irritation.
I can now identify the voices, or rather those around me; Mum, Isaac, Dermot, and… what a surprise, Rose.
I open my eyes now, as my body finally obeys my commands.
I sit up. I am instantly hugged by a brunette blur. Mum, who squeezes me so tight I am surprised I do not topple back over. My ears are still twitching, and my hearing is still muffled. I can hear something like ‘I couldn’t leave you like that, never again…’ but I do not catch all of it. I think she is crying.
“Urgh, mum, mum… MUM! I CAN’T BREATH!” I attempt to say.
She backs off after a moment. A blonde mass comes next, but this time it is gentle. Rose was being much more gentle than usual, and I don’t feel repulsion or anything. Unlike mum, she isn’t crying, and simply whispers in my ear the words “Welcome back” before Pecking me on the cheek. She draws back and holds my left hand, which is bandaged.
Isaac walks up, feint punches me, and gives me a high five.
“Welcome back stranger! How are you?”
“I’m alright mate, thanks.”
Dermot on the other hand was almost glaring at me. I feel like asking, ‘Hey, what’s up with your bake?’ but I get the feeling that would not help the situation.
Isaac on the other hand went ahead and asked that. Dermot gave no response.
“I’ll wait in the lobby” he mumbles and walks off.
There is an awkward stillness in the moments following.
“So, how did I get here?” I ask, breaking the silence.
No one answers immediately. Rose and Isaac exchange uncertain looks of worry. He speaks up.
“We were-” he glances at Rose again, “We were hoping you could tell us what happened. I found you at the stairs to the chaplaincy, crippled and bleeding heavily from the gashes on your left hand. I called the emergency services, I tried to stop the outward flow of blood until they got here. Rose sent for your mum, after I called her and we came here. The doctors apparently bandaged it.”
I look down at my hand, still being held like a fragile piece of glassware in Rose’s hands. I notice now that she has pointed nails, which seem slightly red at the tips.
“So what happened?” Rose asks as I look upwards again.
I think desperately. If I tell them what I saw, odds are, Isaac would think me mad, my relationship with rose would end, and Mum would be so terrified that she would send me to a mental institute. I have to lie.
“I went to the chaplaincy, I talked to Veronica…” I start, considering how to on, “I left the chaplaincy, I was feeling very woozy, and… I fell.”
“So you have no idea who cut your hand?” Rose asks in sarcastic disbelief.
I seek an excuse.
“Well my mind is still a little shaken… it might come back to me” I lie.
They all exchange looks of uncertainty, making me feel isolated.
This will not end well.

(Journal)
We went home after that little ‘pep talk’ as mum kindly puts it, but I felt it was more like an interrogation over a murder. I literally fell onto my bed the moment I got into my room. Rose came in for some time and lay down next to me. Isaac came in shortly after, then exited, realizing we weren’t in need of a ‘third wheel.’ She did not stay overnight this time, she decided to crash with Isaac for the night. Speaking of which, they also told me I had been unconscious for roughly a week.
My mind was still a little shaken but it took barely a minute for me to fall asleep. I had a strange dream and so I have opted to write it on a separate piece of paper, lest it cause me embarrassment or cause others harm.

(Dream note- Keep hidden at all times-First person)

I am in a strange world, with a large white floor, and countless stars, and nebulae and other such spacial objects visible to my keen eye. I look in front of me, and there is the figure, from my vision. There is a flash of sun-bright light, and I blink at it. When I open my eyes, the figure is mimicking a silhouette of myself.
I watch closely. It tenses its right hand, I can tell because it shudders in that way, and a strange black cloud envelopes the hand and Violet lightening courses through the fog like eels in a pool of water, writhing like snakes.
The cloud clears, and I can see that the hand is now that of a large dog’s, with huge, bone like claws the length of a machete instead of fingers.
The figure lowers the deformed hand and before my eyes, there is a blinding light sprouting from the deformed hand. It begins to drip off, in a light, sky-blue goop. When it clears, the hand is normal again.
The figure then locks itself in a running position and tenses. The black cloud surrounds the whole creature. When it clears, there is a wolf’s silhouette. A normal one, but with a bit more muscle and its torso is lengthened. It readies itself for an attack, pulls back its chest and head to build up the tension. I realise I am its target.
I turn to run but I fall over and something is on my back. I am instantly hurled far into the distance of the white orb below. I can see the creature running towards me, swiftly. So fast that this strange glittery dust does not even have time to settle.
I hit the ground hard, on my shoulder, and a wincing pain shoots up my nerves, but I cannot scream. I roll onto my back and try to get up.
I only get my chest vertical, when the wolf reaches the best part of ten meters away, when it jumps, high into the air.
No. it pounces, bringing its head first, its maw open wide, with its two front paws, poised like knives. It lands on top of me, and its dark maw, swallows up my sight.
I feel newfound ground beneath me. Soft, relatively bouncy. I know now, I’m home where I belong.


(Journal)
The dream made me feel strange as I woke to the early sunset, which blinded my eyes so I have shut my own ones. The dream made me feel like I can do the figures abilities. I know it seems hysterical and stupid but it is what I feel. It is like I am meant to attempt them, like a gut feeling, the way it just commands you to do something. In this case, I feel like the figure was demonstrating them, as though to show me what to do. So I have opted to try them whenever I can, which should be very soon.
(Log out)

I set my pen down and get up, to stretch. Rose and Isaac have gone for a walk; and mum and Dermot have gone out into town for groceries. I turn to face my bed and take a step forward. I feel strange. My left hand, the cut one, it’s stinging a bit. I look at it and see a streak of pale light cutting through my blinds. The five scars I obtained that night, they now shine with a luminous light-blue light, through the bandages. I rip the bandages off. My hand is searing as though it is inside a white-hot flame, inside the heart of it.
I watch it, as this pain shoots up my nerves, burning them to cinders. My head explodes with an explosion of pain. I scream in this agony, but I cannot take my eyes off my hand. Dark, thick hairs sprout from my hand in all directions, my fingers curl inwards and merge into my now grey haired hand. My bones crack, and diminish themselves. Despite the grey hair, my hand is scarlet with the blood. Something numbs my hand, and I stare at it in disbelief. I’m terrified, because my paw is sprouting huge claws from it, very, very slowly, but they jerk out at times spurting my blood across the floor, and with every inch that grows out, I feel as though I am being stabbed by a white hot poker which burns my very nerve endings.
The sight is demonic, and twisted. Blood races out of my hand at an alarming speed from the claws and so much that the pain fades away, simply because the blood does not go to my brain. I feel woozy, sleepy, tired. There is a strange prickling at my neck, where Rose had bitten me. My hearing becomes muffled, but I think I hear the power rangers theme. The world is spinning around me. My legs become gelatine, unable to keep me supported.
With every blink, the world becomes darker, as I slip in and out of consciousness. My hand feels normal again, but my vision is swirling. I topple over, and darkness ensues.

*

“Urgh… what happened?... Aw shit!”
It is sunset. The last few hours of light are ebbing away into the shadows. If I am going to try these abilities I better hurry the hell up! Firstly, I tense my hand, as hard as I can.
No response.
I begin thinking. Why did it work for that creature? The sunlight is going away, and fast!
I got it! The figure was in both light and darkness. So for each phase, I have to use the appropriate attribute.
I shove my hand inside my wardrobe and tense it as hard as I can for a moment. I take my hand out, still tensed, the black cloud had trapped my hand within it, which feels numb at the moment. The violet lightening courses around inside it. A moment later the black cloud and lightening fade away, to reveal the misshapen hand from before, but without the pain I endured last time. It cuts cleanly through the air the way a fresh sabre would. Also there are grooves in the claws, they are like fingers, because I can move the claws like fingers. They just feel much longer, and I feel no blood, or tendons on the outside. Just a tiny amount of warmth on the inside.
Now I move into the remaining rays of sunlight and tense my hand.
The light orb does not surround my hand. Instead an ominous blue flame erupts from my misshapen hand onto the floor where it settles.
A thought strikes me instantly. If I have to tense in shadow or darkness, perhaps I just need to relax in the light. I hold my hand in the rays.
The orb surrounds my hand, and a moment later the goop begins dripping off. It feels like warm water running off my hand after my hand has been somewhere extremely cold. It is soothing… and a little tingly.
I hold my lit arm over the blue flame. Low and behold the flame is extinguished. A red steam is given off.
I look at my hand as the orb drips off. It is normal again, clean as it should be.
Whatever light there is in the room quickly fades, as the sun drops beneath the horizon. I’m out of time.
“Drat!”
The door opens downstairs. Someone is home.
I suddenly realise my bed sheets are soaked with blood. This would not go down well with mum or whomever is home. I quickly make about cleaning everything in sight.

(Journal)
I felt rather disappointed that I did not acquire any more time to test out my remaining abilities. Stranger still, shortly before I fainted, I swear I heard the original power rangers theme tune. Not the lyrics, just the instruments. Why though I have no idea, it just sort of busted into my head at the time.
Aside from that, I was glad that I got at least one done in that time. Mum walking in on me with a huge deformed hand- odds are it would not sit quietly with her. Also I made sure no-one found, or even seen the blood in my room. I will be sixteen tomorrow so Rose and I will likely be going somewhere. And lucky me I have PE tomorrow. Odds are, if it is a nice day then we will be playing baseball. A sport that I personally hate, purely because I suck and have no precision whatsoever. It will be good for Jonathan Harker on the other hand. He loves it but to be honest, he is not that good at it either. Which begs the question for me. Why?...
(Log out)

Again, i would just like to emphasize that i would very much appreciate any comments and any constructive criticism you may have to offer. And i must ask viewers to enjoy this at their own leisure but do not directly steal my ideas and or characters. Stealing is bad, people so don't do it. thanks very much!

i am sorry to say this but it is necessary. Until further notice, i will not be updating my posts on this topic. i am uncertain about the point in which i will end my book and start on my second, and so i do not want to post too much of it, lest the storyline be given away and someone thieves it. (Yeah, go ahead and call me paranoid).

I may reconsider posting some of the book, but I will be hard to convince. Some comments on the chapters, or constructive criticism may help if people enjoy reading it. many thanks.