Log in

No account? Create an account
About this Journal
Current Month
Nov. 22nd, 2007 @ 12:28 am Absinthe (beginning)
Over the past three months, Tajrin Holloway had wearied of living. She knew it was stupid, being only twenty one, she had her whole life ahead of her. Every day, Taj woke up thinking that everything was okay. Then, a few minutes later HE would cross her mind. She would push his stupid, cheating little person out of her head, but it would return, continually, throughout the day. By nightfall, Taj was reduced to a paralyzed mess. She could cry, because she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't scream, because there was no one to listen. And she couldn't be happy, no mater how hard she tried. Even when she was surrounded by other people, Taj was struck by moments of such agonizing misery that it felt like life would forever and after be so horrible.

She wondered when exactly life had become so horrible, so meaningless. At first, she'd thought it had happened when HE had first betrayed her, when HE had told her ever so softly that he'd kissed another girl and that he wanted to date her. Or maybe it was after, when HE'd told her that they couldn't talk when HE was with HER which was all the time. But maybe it had been even before that. Maybe she'd stopped living two and a half years before, when Taj had first taken up with HIM. She'd let HIM become a drug, and she'd lived the dreamy life of an addict. What kind of life was that? What kind of love was that? Obviously not real love, since HE'd left her for that BITCH.

So Taj woke up that morning, afternoon really, expecting another day of momentary peace followed by stinging memories of him. Another day of misery. And then she rolled over.

There was a boy in her bed. A naked boy. A boy with freckles smattered across his shoulders and hair like sand and wheat. He was sleeping rather soundly, with one arm that she hadn't noticed before slung across her waist.

Frantically, Taj glanced around, checking that she was in fact in her dorm room. Judging by the nasty old curtains and the millions of picture collages on the wall, it was. So who was he? She tried to remember the previous night. It was one of the rare Friday nights at Grimmerie Hollow University that Taj's friends had actually decided to go out. They'd gone to a club, even though Taj would have been just fine at a bar. Her friends weren't much for drinking however, so dancing it was to be. Taj remembered dancing, drinking the few drinks her friends would allow, and then dancing somemore. She remembered thinking of HIM and all the parties and fun she'd used to have with him. And then the bargirl had shown up with a drink.

Oh yes. That was where this boy had come from. His friend had bought her the drink. Unused to such attention, Taj had gone to thank his friend; a tall redheaded boy with dark, crazy eyes and a killer's grin.

"What's your name, honey?" the boy had asked, obviously drunk.

"Taj," Taj replied, still not sure how to act. Boys flirted with her, or they'd used to, before HIM. She wasn't sure she remembered how to flirt back.

"Well, Taj, m'dear. I am Mulligan Blue," he announced proudly, waving his arms in the air grandly.

"No, no, no," his sandy haired friend, the boy in her bed, had said, "Mate, YOU are a drunken slob."

"I am not," Mulligan had retorted, "Trat, tell him I'm not drunk."

"His royal highness is not drunk," Mulligan's other friend, a boy with the whitest blonde hair Taj had ever seen said, but discretely rolled his eyes.

"Well, his royal highness can kiss my bum, because I say he is. In fact, I'd bet I could drink him under the table in the next five minutes."

"I don't doubt it Ire," the blonde replied.

"I accept that challenge!" Mulligan declared, promptly backing it up with a loud burp. He glanced apologetically at Taj, who was sipping her drink and giggling.

"How rude," sandy haired boy had suddenly said, "Miss Taj, we haven't been introduced. I'm Irish Goodfellow. This is Tratsky Threader."

"Nice to meet you," Taj smiled.

"Would you like to see me outdrink Mulligan, or would it bore you terribly?" Irish inquired. Taj had giggled again. She liked Irish's eyes, a shifting blue-green-grey color that she couldn't quite place.

"I would love to see you outdrink Mulligan," Taj replied, and added at Mulligan's wounded look, "If you can."

They had a drinking contest, which Mulligan had survived farely well until a shot of tequila had done him in. Tratsky had begged him out of the next shot, saying that 'his royal highness' had to be taken home. Mulligan tried to convince Taj to come with, but she'd declined as politely as possible. She may have taken a few more shots herself, and her friends had vanished.

Irish had offered to help her find them, but they never had. So they had danced and talked and drank and danced and oh god. Taj glanced helplessly at the sandy haired boy. She'd only ever had sex before with HIM and now with a boy she barely knew. And she barely remembered the sex. HE had accused her of drinking and fooling around and then conveniently forgetting, but she'd loved HIM so much it had never happened. But now...

Irish stirred, his amazing eyes even more intriguing in the light.

"Well hello then," he muttered, sitting up, "And who might you be?"

"Um," Taj squeaked out, unaware if there was any protocol for boys who you'd slept with but didn't know.

"Oh right. Miss Taj."

"Just Taj is fine," Taj said, blushing. She pulled her comforter tighter around her own naked body, but Irish seemed content to let the whole purple mess slip dangerously low.

Suddenly, Taj heard a jingling in the door. Her roommate!

"Cover up!" Taj snapped, knowing full well that her roommate would freak if she found a naked boy in Taj's bed. Irish shrugged, making no move to cover anything. Before Taj could yell at him to do something, Eliza was in.

"Hey Taj," Eliza chirped, smiling, "You really slept well today. It's nearly three. What time did you get back."

"I can explain," Taj said.

"Explain what? Did you get back late? I didn't hear you come in," Eliza took off the hooded sweatshirt she'd been wearing. She obviously had been out running.

"Explain him."

"Who?" Eliza blinked, "You aren't naked under there, are you? Gross, Taj."

Before Taj could say anything, Irish jumped out of bed. Stark naked he jumped in front of Eliza, twirling his bum and waving his hands in front of her face. Eliza didn't even blink.

If it had been anyone else, Taj would have thought this some sort of elaborate hoax. But Eliza was not the type to sit calmly while a naked boy gyrated his hips in front of her. In fact, Taj doubted Eliza had ever seen a naked boy. Her life was school.


"She can't see me," Irish turned, exposing his full glory to Taj, who cringed slightly.


"Yes what?" Eliza asked expectantly.

"Yes, I'm naked. God I was drunk last night," Taj laughed, but it came out horribly wrong. Eliza looked at her strangley.

"Ookay. I'm taking a shower then. You must be hung over."


After Eliza had left, Taj stared at Irish.

"She can't see you."

"I did say that, yes."

"But I can."

"I expect so, yes. That or you had one wild night with your comforter," Irish grinned cheekily.

"I must be insane."

"Nobody is completely sane, but you're much insane either."

Taj frowned. Leave it to her mind to imagine up a sassy boy, "You're invisible to my roommmate. That means you're not real."

"I'm real as you are," Irish replied, languidly crawling back into bed, "Say, want to go for another round?"

"I'll pass," Taj wondered why she was even bothering to talk to the imaginary boy. But it was hard to ignore him when he was sidling up to her with his warm skin and his good smelling hair and...

"Stop it would you," Taj snapped, "I need to gather myself so I can go see a counciller and explain that I'm seeing and sleeping with imaginary boys. This thing with Varagas must have really driven me over the edge."

A pang his her. Vargas. HIM. The first time she'd thought of HIM all morning. She'd known it would happen, yet everytime she was struck by the power of the pain that hit.

"Who's Varagas."

Taj winced, "My ex..."

"You don't sound too sure about that."

"Well we weren't technically dating when we...broke up. We had been dating, but a while before. He wanted time to be free. We were...fuck buddies. Turned out I was the one he didn't want to date; he had no problem dating another bitch. He was my best friend," she frowned, wondering why she was telling a stranger this.

"He broke your heart. So sad. Let Irish fix it, eh?"

"Excuse me? Imaginary friend say what?"

"Imaginary friend. I like that. Yes, that saves me an explanation. Lets just say I'm your imaginary friend."

(Yes. I know. My mind does weird things to cope with my life. Thus we have Absinthe...

The characters---

Irish Goodfellow- Jester/Knave of the Autumn Court.

Tajrin Holloway- Normal, stupid girl. Okay, she's smart. But heartbroken and damaged, yay.

Mulligan Blue- Prince of the Autumn Court.

Tratsky Threader- Duke of the Autumn Court and ex-convict. <3

Priyanka Maylower- Princess of the Solstice Courts.

Charm Cutlass- Princess of the Winter Court.

McGee Blackwell- King of the Unseelie Court.

Vargas Patel- ex BFF/Fuck buddy of Taj.

Pyper Archen- bitch queen that Vargas took up with.

Charlie Thistledown- Princess of the Spring Court.

Madelyn Nightengale- Queen of the Seelie Court, of light and seed.

Atreyu Lionheart- Prince of the Summer Court.

Story takes place in Grimmerie Hollow, my new favorite town. Like Knightsridge, Grimmerie is a place of power- its corresponding towns are Boomtown and Shipwreck Grotto. It's located in New England.
About this Entry
Bedroom by sxylilwitch
Oct. 17th, 2007 @ 01:17 am Sequel- Real and official sequel to the revamp of Giddy Brew
There’s a common misconception about snow. After it’s fallen, blanketing the earth in a lovely, plush carpet of cold and wet children’s dreams, it freezes. Really, it freezes to everything; blades of grass, cobbled pathways, even its own snowy surface are covered in a thin sheet of ice. It only takes one misstep for a thin leather boot to plow through the miniscule layer and into the still soft surface beneath, but still. Ice, everywhere. Once snow’s been around for a couple of days the initial joy of greeting winter wears off and the chill sets into one’s bones. At least, that’s how Sayre felt as she crunched her way up the hill.
The air was completely still excepting her gasping breaths as she trudged her way up, careful not to slip on a patch of ice or a broken cobble half covered in snow. Eerily surrounding her were tombstones of ever size and shape, but Sayre ignored them. She’d grown up only a little ways away from the huge old cemetery. Once her parents had died, she’d come even closer. The war orphanage was just a half mile away, at the very top of old Hellespont Hill. Nearly hidden by the deserted old school buildings surrounding it, the Hellespont War Orphanage was located in an old school dormitory known as Morden Manor. The manor had used to house high school students of the Brackenridge Altar Academy, but the Academy had closed down nearly twenty years prior. The surrounding colleges of magic had also closed on the same day, being offshoots of the Academy themselves. Glancing up at her destination, Sayre sighed. A new blanket of snow was descending from the sky, ready to cloak the ice in a deceptively beautiful quilt.
Panting and wheezing, Sayre finally burst through the door of Morden Manor, brushing snowdrops off her nose and dripping somewhat on the floor. The woman in charge, Miss Grimsley bustled into the foyer with her upturned nose and snapped, “Princely, where have you been?”
“I got the bread you asked for, ma’am,” Sayre breathed, her voice squeaky from the cold.
“I asked for the bread three hours ago, Princely,” Miss Grimsley huffed, “Poor Boudica’s been waiting all this time.”
“Oh yes, poor Boudica,” Sayre agreed, trying not to roll her eyes too obviously. Boudica Paisley was quite possibly the most annoying girl at the orphanage. Just because at age sixteen she had found herself a potential suitor, Miss Grimsley treated her like she was the best thing since sliced bread.
“Is she here yet?” trilled one of Boudica’s minions, Pentheseleia Griggs. Pentheseleia, or Penny, had the distinguished habit of being second most annoying in the orphanage, followed third by Boudica’s other minion, Ainia Trung.
It was one of the Hellespont War Orphanage’s most unique features that babies and toddlers left with Miss Grimsley would retain only some vestige of their familiar name. She would rechristen a newborn after some ancient warrior or queen whose actual good-doings were lost to the history books. Thus names like Boudica, Pentheseleia, and Ainia Trung were born. Boudica had once been the three year old Betsey Paisley, abandoned by her father to the war. Penny was the youngest daughter of the long deceased Griggs family. They had been lost in an air strike when she was seven. Her actual name was Peony. Ainia Trung had been left at the door when she was only a few months old. No one knew where she came from, though it was suspected she was a mutt from the Hellespont baker and his mistress. The name Ainia was of Amazonian fame and Miss Grimsley had chosen the surname of Trung after Chinese women warriors.
So what of Sayre? Left on the porch at merely a few weeks, Sayre had been initially christened Valasca Sayre; Sayre being the name of the blanket-brand she’d been wrapped in. However, Miss Grimsley had chosen the surname ‘Princely’ only two weeks later. She say that Sayre always had a ‘princely’ air to her, like royal blood rushed through her veins. Well, Sayre had never felt all that royal, and she’d loathed the name Valasca, despite its history. Miss Grimsley and the girls at the orphanage still insisted on calling her such, but all the Hellespont townsfolk had been introduced to her as Sayre Princely.
“She’s here, Penny dear.”
“Good!” Pentheseleia exclaimed, snatching the loaf of bread sticking out of Sayre’s basket, “Boudica’s stomach just won’t take a meeting with her beau without some of Baker’s bread.”
She then proceeded to give Sayre her nastiest smile, which Sayre returned whole-heartedly. None of the girls liked her much. Perhaps it was the fact that at nineteen years old, Sayre was the only girl at the orphanage over seventeen who hadn’t yet been married. Perhaps it was the fact that she just wasn’t all that personable, as Miss Grimsley would attest to vehemently. Or perhaps it was the fact that Sayre was one of the only girls in Hellespont who had magic.
The incident had occurred over one hundred years earlier. No one could say for sure what had happened; a meteor, an explosion, or something more supernatural. But whatever had happened that fateful day, people all over the world were gifted with magic. Over time, the magic users had simply taken over, being more proficient in most things than normal humans. They had even founded their own schools and colleges, the first of which was the very school grounds upon which Sayre stood. However, everything had changed when Mary Abbott had ascended to power. Mary had been the first touched with magic all those years ago. Sustaining her life through horrific means, Bloody Mary had taken on the role of first president, then empress, then universal dictator. She’d been fought every step of the way, and was still being fought. That was how many of the kids in the Hellespont War Orphanage had come to be there. Yet slowly but surely the schools had closed down, the economy had faltered, and the system of government had fallen apart. Bloody Mary’s militia roamed the countryside, ransacking and pillaging at will. Meanwhile the militants who fought her did the same. The big cities had all mostly fallen to ruin, so that only small towns like Hellespont were left. Most of the magic users had joined in the war, on one side or the other, so to see one in a town was rare enough. Humans tended to resent those with magic. They blamed the war on them. Sometimes Sayre wondered if perhaps they were right.

--------------- Okay. Giddy Brew has been revamped, but obviously you guys haven't seen much of the new thing. Let's just say that the war with Bloody Mary is just starting during Giddy Brew. It's really getting going during Poison Fairytales, which when it is revamped will take place on or two years after. But I'll give you the cheat sheet- Prue lives, Conrad dies, Elanore dies, Joshua dies, Dirk dies (okay, he already died in the real PF, so you should have known that already). Casey and Prue go on to fight with the militants. Serendipity and Polaris have infiltrated Mary's organization. They have kids, but they're not really important in this story. The kids who show up in this are....

Sayre Princely---- is not the kid of anyone important, but she is the main chara, so...
Emma Sarabeth Johnson or "Johnnie"----is also not anyone's kid. She's a reanimated corpse.
Malachey Hargrove---- child of Chauncey and a minor char. I mentioned in PF named Xaverie Hayes.
His middle name is Conrad, of course.
Bronte Asher---- Mal's cousin. Daughter of Harper and Benvolio.
Bram Hargrove----- OLDER (not main char, really) son of Orpheus and Cerulean. Runs their
Daljeet Azad or "DJ"---- son of minor char Daljeet Sing's sister Meera and a random char.
Hermes Weston or "West"---- er, related to no one. just normal and human.

Those are the mains. Non mains are...
Elkanah Wright-Spiederman--- Yay, shock and suprise. Daughter of Boleyn and Zillah!
Willow Stone--- daughter of Elanore's little sister Aleen and Bobby's little bro Bobby.
Autumn May Rainsborough--- daughter of Viola (Dirk's mum) and random. Dane died, methinks.

There'll be more of course. I didn't mean to have just Harper and Chauncey's kids in the main mix, it just kinda fell cause I wanted cousins. Bram's not a main either, I just screwed up and am too lazy to fix it. But Avarick and Merlin's kid will show, along with a few others. Also the adults will still be around- trust me, we'll run into Prue, Casey, Noah, Frank, Orpheus, Cerulean, and Aeolus. Minimum. There'll be more.

Oh and yes. Johnnie is a zombie. You read right. I'm facing my fear and writing a story with zombies. Sayre's only magical power so far as we know is raising the dead defenses around Brackenridge Altar Academy. And other places that may have dead defenses. Johnnie is missing an eye, and is very cross about it.
About this Entry
Aug. 27th, 2007 @ 02:15 am Giddy Brew New Part 2
Chapter 2 of what I just posted. Enjoy.

Kat Von D is my hero, ya'll. And nudists are people too.Collapse )
About this Entry
Bedroom by sxylilwitch
Aug. 27th, 2007 @ 02:10 am Giddy Brew (witch cauldron storm chronicles tales whatever)
Er...Fish insists this no longer be called Giddy Brew. I like that name. I remember in HS it took me FOREVER to think of that name. But...yeah. Can't think of anything new yet.

I was going to post this on fictionpress, but if I do that, methinks I have to take the old version down off ffn.net. Soooooo...from now on new chapters will be posted here. :)

I want to get a tattoo at LA Ink. I'd settle for Miami Ink though.Collapse )

By the way. Giddy Brew (the new version) belongs to me. All characters, all locales, all everything. ABSOLUTELY NO STEALING. The old version's characters belong to me. Not so much the locales. The trouble of converting a fanfic to original. Le sigh.
About this Entry
Apr. 17th, 2007 @ 02:18 am Tcha, New story-ness-ness-ness
Partially inspired by a dream I had, and partially inspired by Rang de Basanti, but with a completely different plot.

"When I first started out, I never would have imagined…I could never have grasped the idea that a group of insane, wild, untamed little boys could so completely change my life. I never could have conceptualized that four boys had the power to move their entire country, to save the entire world."

Jesse Galvern – Tall, lanky, with dark curly hair, and dark, mossy green eyes. His skin is a pale olive color, and he’s dressed in a black sweater with the sleeves rolled up and stone washed jeans that aren’t baggy but are one size too big. Even with a belt, their riding so low that his dark blue boxers are visible.

Gavin Thompson- Main character’s height give or take an inch, a peachy freckled face, honest brown eyes, light brown Asuka cut hair. One earring, likes aviator sunglasses and a choker with a silver ball around his neck, an orange polo shirt over a long sleeved white and blue shirt and light colored jeans.

Hawthorne Edenborough- A tall, skinny redhead with dark, abyssal eyes, tan skin, and freckles. She wears black framed glasses except when she wants to look sexy, in which case she is never without a pair of sunglasses perched upon her head.

Trevor Proudlock- Taller than Jesse, blonde, and wiry, with a sturdy face and a grim outlook on life. He likes to surf to grasp the deeper meaning in things. Dressed in a green sweater and faded jeans.

Percy Judson- wild gray eyes and deep chestnut hair that he spikes into a half-Mohawk, he’s a true playboy at heart. Leather jacket, black shirt, jeans...

Edward Hexley- Hawthorne’s current boyfriend.

Clementine ???- the pretty girl who lives on Edward's floor who makes Hawthorne veeeery nervous.

Even though they seemed out of control, they were actually despondent about the seemingly immovable state of things.

"Everything has a balance. People cannot gain without losing something of equal value. If you obtain something precious, eventually something just as precious will be taken away. It’s not just an economical rule. By gaining love, you lose your innocence. When the world receives new life, somewhere, something dies in exchange. These are the general principles that keep the world turning."

Yeah, if you notice- everyone's last name and first name correspond- JG=GT=TP=PJ and HE=EH

Like most of my current stories it will take place in the world surrounding Knightsridge, Sussex, and Lawson City. I'm leaning towards Lawson City, since I have so many stories that take place in Knightsridge already and only one in LC.

Which, btw, the line up for all stories is...
The Witching Hour
The Knightsridge Chronicles
Wild Hunt
The Abandoned
New Nameless Version of Conviction

In between Knightsridge and Sussex:
Deja Vu in Technicolor

Incantatrix sequel with Jude and Ivory

Lawson City:
The Grave Digger

The Schools of Knightsridge Include: St. Paul's Preparatory Academy, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow Academy, and The Knightsridge Nondenomenational Public School. Colleges include Knightsridge University and Tri-Borough community college.

Lawson City Schools Include: St. Hedwig's and a bunch we don't know yet.

Sussex doesn't have schools except for Sussex Regional

Sussex, Knightsridge, and Lawson City are all an hour apart by train, an hour and a half by car. They form the shape of a triangle on the map- Knightsridge being the top, LC being the right corner, and Sussex the left. Between them there is only woods, although LC and Knightsridge are bordered by surburbia that tapers out into the woods.

Interesting fact- between the three cities, there is exactly one were tribe, thirteen witch clans, one fey hill, and two major vampire covens. The fey hill, the vampire covens, and the Weirthorne, Pendragon, Merryweather, Rooney, and Shaughnessy witch tribes are all in Knightsridge. The were tribe moves.

The leader of the Were tribe is Abamalek Dominguez. He has two kids, Jake and Guadalupe, whom we meet in Book 3 of the Witching Hour (Phases of the Moon).

The Morrigan, or three main leaders of the witch tribes of the three cities are Linnex Shaughnessy (Knightsridge, appears in Book 2 of The Witching Hour), Almyra Henderson (LC, mentioned in Book 2, also makes an appearance in the Grave Digger), and Augusta Warren (Sussex, appears frequently in Incantatrix).

The Prospective Morrigan are Arah Merryweather (The Knightsridge Chronicles), Clara Warren (Incantatrix), and poooossibly Thatcher Hoarfrost (The Grave Digger).

Anyway, now that I went on a tangent about the three towns, this story will have NOTHING to do with the supernatural- at least not the fey/vampire/witch/were kind. It and the New version of Conviction (starring lovely orange haired, rebellious Dahlia Grayson, her reincanated ex-lover Akker Quincey, his best friend Owen "Cutter" Thorne, Dahlia's surly sister Whitter and stepbrother Mackieran) all feature supernatural stories of a different shade.
About this Entry
Suicide by killtobeyou
Mar. 2nd, 2007 @ 08:36 pm New Story Idea
The sequel to Incantatrix. Originally Arabella Lancaster had three nieces; Phoebe Sherwood, and...er, I forget the two sisters name and I'm too lazy to open the document with them in it.

Revised now. I'm changing Rafe and Bennett's last names to Hawkins. Cause I really don't like the name Hamilton. Probably because it has the word 'ham' in it. And I don't like the word 'ham' because it makes me think of pigs. I don't like pigs. They're kind of weird.


Ivory Quinn and Jude Cullen are best friends. When Ivory’s parents die and she’s sent down to live with her Aunt Arabella and her three noxious cousins, Savannah, Meadow, and Dawn, in Sussex. Jude can’t just leave Ivory to fend for herself. She convinces her parents to allow her to spend her final year before college with Ivory’s new family.

Unfortunately, what Ivory slowly becomes caught up in, Jude can’t be a part of. Jude has to watch her best friend become torn between the ungodly beautiful Hawkins twins; Raphael and Bennett and fall victim to seductive Milo Aubrey’s charms (Milo is both doing his job and then exacting revenge on Rafe and Ben for messing with Clara still). Meanwhile Jude is slowly becoming infatuated with the tall, darkly enchanting Deacon Fait (Deacon considers playing around with Jude but refuses to acknowledge her because he still hopes to draw Clara away) and even more dangerously a member of the very group she is trying to pull Ivory away from.

Just for the record, originally Phoebe was the main character. Phoebe Sherwood became Ivory Quinn, and only just today has Jude become a part of the picture. I don't know whether Ivory or Jude as of yet will be the main character. I could try to make them both the main character, but I seem to have tunnel vision with characterization.
About this Entry
Bitches by sxylilwitch
Feb. 28th, 2007 @ 12:46 am Personal Use
Okay- for me, story idea.

Girl is named Ivory.

Boys; brothers, enemies. Twins? Maybe, kind of overdone.

Plot line---- super natural? vampires too played out...but may be fun. <3
About this Entry
Shigeru by koikon
Feb. 8th, 2007 @ 10:44 pm (no subject)
So, new updates on fictionpress include chapter 8 of the Witching Hour, the first two chapters of Incantatrix, and the first chapter of Wild Hunt, a new story. Go read.
About this Entry
Ryoki by Sxylilwitch1
Jan. 22nd, 2007 @ 12:21 am Lala, and faerie came to the world....
Current Mood: aggravatedaggravated
Current Music: Blood and Chocolate
It was cold in this town. Blimey, was it cold. The sky was a dark blanket of great, big arctic chill. She sat on a bench, staring out at the ocean. Like the sky, it was big and black. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. It was all a canvas of black, gray, and the occasional spread of midnight blue. How dismal. Despite the gloom, the lulling sound of the waves made her feel alive instead of sleepy. The trouble was, she didn’t know where to go next. The few people that passed her barely acknowledged her presence. Why would they? She knew what she looked like; a forlorn girl, tall but slight with tangled strawberry blonde hair and strange eyes sitting alone on a beach bench near one in the morning. Her black jacket provided hardly any warmth against the cold, and her ripped jeans were barely blue beneath the layers of mud and dirt she’d acquired over the past couple of days.
Bailey Gelsey sighed and tried to remember why she’d ventured out on this trip. Into the cold. Gritting her teeth, she stood. She hadn’t any money for a hotel, and had no idea if there were any train stations empty warehouses she could camp out in, but anywhere had to be better than the empty beach. What was this stupid town called again? Knightsridge, that was it.
Just as she was about to step off the curb, Bailey was forced to jump back to save her life. A huge van painted in bright neon squealed up onto the curb, inches from her face.
“What the-?” Bailey gasped, then banged hard on the side of the van, “Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing? I could have died!”
The passenger side window rolled down, and a girl hardly older than herself lunged out of the window. She slumped over the side and said cheerfully, “I’m ever so sorry. Old broad doesn’t drive like she used to.”
Bailey blinked. The girl was stretching herself all the way from the driver seat, and was obviously very tall. She had a long mane of black hair and big gray eyes lined with dark kohl. Her toothy smile was hardly compensation for her near death experience, but Bailey sighed. It was much too late to argue with some random stranger.
“Say,” the girl said, “Would you like a ride to wherever you’re going? It’s awful frosty out here,” she gave a nod towards the deserted boardwalk.
Bailey looked dubiously at the van. Electric blue and shocking pink daffodils were spray painted against the rusted metal exterior, along with bright yellow suns and gorgeous tribal designs. The girl saw her looking and said, “Don’t worry. She drives alright. Long as you treat her right. This is Faerydae, and I’m Luna, by the way. Luna Silvermist.”
“Luna?” Bailey snorted, “Pick that out yourself, did you?”
“Not at all,” the girl said airily, “My parents lived for the sixties and seventies. When I was born, they had a raging bout of nostalgia. I have two older sisters named Chrysanthemum and Pegasus.”
“Wow,” Bailey murmured. She’d always made fun of her own older sister for her name, but those were so much worse.
“Come on. I’m not a serial killer or anything,” Luna winked.
Making a decision, Bailey clambered into the van. The upholstery was torn white leather and the steering wheel looked ready to fall off, but there was a pretty citrus scent in the air, and nothing looked too shady. There were even pretty rainbow colored beads separating the front of the van from the back. They cast prisms of light across the dark dashboard.
“Where you headed?” Luna questioned.
Bailey bit her lip, “I don’t know. I’m in town to look for someone, and I haven’t got a place to stay.”
“Have you got money?” Luna asked.
Cautiously, Bailey replied, “Some.”
“I think of a place you can stay, but can we wait a bit to go there? Driving by the beach gets me so hyped up.”
“I know what you mean,” Bailey grinned.
Luna beamed back, “I know just where to go. Now two questions. What’s your name kid, and how old are you?”
“Bailey, and I’m eighteen.”
Luna paused, “That makes you what, a senior in high school?”
Bailey nodded. The dark haired girl grinned, “Good enough.”
After a moment, Luna turned one of the ancient knobs of the stereo and pressed a few buttons until a loud, shrill sound came from the speakers. What followed was one of the most beautiful songs Bailey had ever heard. She was stunned by the foreign voice and the cry of the instruments. A woman and a man sang a song that was both completely woeful and gorgeously exotic in a language she’d never heard before.
Luna informed her, “It’s my driving mix tape. You’ll like the next song. It’s stone cool.”
After five minutes drive, they pulled up in front of a dank, pitch black building. Luna climbed out of the van and Bailey slid out the other side. She looked around, confused. Maybe Luna really was a serial killer?
Confidently, the dark haired girl strode up to the blackened wall and knocked. Bailey wondered if she was slightly bonkers. Still, Luna was very pretty. She admired the girl’s daring outfit. A black leather skirt barely clung to her hips and thighs, and she wore a bright orange see through sweater that kept slipping off her shoulders.
Seconds later, the wall where there had been no door suddenly peeled away to reveal a large rectangle of light. The door had been so deeply hidden in the shadows that Bailey had missed it. A figure was silhouetted against the frantic dance of lights and the pounding rhythm of music similar to what she’d heard in Luna’s car.
“Hey, Luna. Who’s that?” a handsome boy slurred at the dark haired girl. He tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but Luna ducked away.
“This is my little sister Bailey.”
“Sister? You don’t got any sisters,” the boy said suspiciously, “And how old is she.”
“Too young for you,” Luna informed him, “But old enough to have a good time.”
The boy narrowed his eyes, suddenly sober, “I can’t let minors in my club, Luna.”
“Then lets pretend she’s not a minor, shall we?” Luna batted her eyes at the boy, “Please, Camden? For me?”
Bailey turned away as Luna sidled up to the boy called Camden, pressing her body against his. She didn’t want to watch this. But to her surprise, Luna didn’t proceed to seduce the handsome boy, instead pushing him so he fell flat on his butt.
“Got you,” she winked, then sashayed into the club, motioning for Bailey to follow her.
The strawberry blonde worried, “Won’t he get mad?”
“Who cares?” Luna tossed her hair, “Just for tonight, I’ll be your sister. I’ll protect you.”
Bailey had no idea why she trusted this stranger, but she couldn’t help it. Her temporary hippie sister was a goddess, a mischievous nymph like a force of nature.
So when Luna handed her a pink plastic shot glass full of some dubious looking blood-colored liquid, Bailey didn’t think. She swallowed that shot, and the next, and the next. Bailey wanted to be just like Luna. She wanted to be wild.

The pulsing music near four in the morning woke him, and even after it had faded, his eyes wouldn’t stay closed. Scowling, he scrambled out of bed. A walk would do him good. It always did.
He didn’t grab a coat to ward off the chill night air. He liked the feel of it against his skin, the way his cheeks would flush and his fingertips would numb. His friends called him weird. Knowing his friends he wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.
The biting wind rushed towards him the second he walked out the door. He welcomed it. The houses blurred as he walked swiftly and quietly past each dark porch. Even though he tried to keep his senses alert at all times, at this point in the morning-night he was safe. His mind could wander in peace. Which is probably why he was so startled when he heard the noise; the kind you only heard in hospitals full of sick people or on the sidewalks outside bars.
No one vomited in public out in the open in this town. She was sitting on a rusted swing in old Godfrey park, one head lolling against her shoulder. Her feet dangled precariously over the puddle of red and brown sickness she had just created, and her hair was whipping furiously past her face. The wind was picking up. There would be a storm soon.
Normally, he liked to think he would keep walking. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was soft hearted, or so he liked to tell himself. But the way she was slumped over, her wavy hair in disarray and dark green sweater hanging pathetically off one shoulder made him stop in his tracks. A black blazer style jacket had been draped over her shoulders, but it was starting to fall. She looked like a lost little girl.
“Hey! You!” he called, angry at himself.
The girl looked up, eyes glazed but startled.
“Public drunkenness is a crime,” he told her, approaching.
“Screw you,” she yowled back, her hands clutching her head in pain as she spoke.
“Well, not when you taste of your own filth,” he muttered politely, “Maybe later though.”
The girl’s eyes widened angrily. She lurched forward from the swing, as though to attack him. He squeezed his eyes shut, more willing to take a barrage of hits from a plastered little girl than to actually hit back. But when she hit him it was a soft thud against his chest, and it wasn’t with her hands.
“Blast,” he cursed, the girl’s head cradled against him. Repositioning her body he picked her up, princess style. Gods was she heavy. Drunks were always light weight.
As he carried her down the street aglow with fading darkness he said conversationally, “I’m Ezekiel by the way. I hope you have money, because you’ll be buying breakfast tomorrow.”
The girl didn’t reply. He sighed, finally reaching the porch to the boarding house he lived in. Getting her up the flight of stairs should be entertaining, except not. Good thing Ezekiel Anand was slightly masochistic when it came to pretty faces.
Taking a deep breath, he started up.
About this Entry
Dec. 9th, 2006 @ 03:53 am Just to gain interest in the Witching Hour
So I know the Witching Hour as of yet isn't all that exciting for people. But I just want to gain some interest and give a tiny preview of one of the only scenes I have written for the fourth and final book.

Get away from him Dellacourt. He's a vampire...Collapse )
About this Entry