since I want to keep my main account and writing account separate (my writings not so good right now) I'm making a new blog solely for posting my writing.
they're extremely messy by the way, if you're confused about the timeline or something you can just follow the tags
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She raised an eyebrow, looking at him questioningly. 'What do you mean? I'm perfectly well educated, thank you very much! Although I don't expect much from someone like you...'
Maybe it was good for the both of them, this way. The less time he spent on the road with her, the better.
'Whats yer name again?'
'Why, you-- Nomi. It's Nomi.'
'Well, Miss Nomi, what do ya like to do? Do ya like drawing? Music? Ballet? A young girl like you oughta have something to keep her mind occupied.'
'Why should I tell you?'
'Well, it'd be much better than having nothing to talk about the entire time, wouldn't it?'
'...that's true. I suppose my time mostly consists of me spending time with my friends'
He hummed. 'Will ya be lonely, so far away from them?'
'They aren't far away, you worm.'
He tapped his feet, heel clicking softly on the fabric of the horse carriege. 'Mind yer manners, young lass. Ya can't call someone like me a worm.'
She huffed, angrily crossing her arms, pouting away from the window. 'This is ridiculous. Back home if I was ever--'
The carriage nearly tipped over, Nomi letting out a screech. He stayed calm, but his voice was urgent. 'When I say run, you run. Don't ever look behind, alright?'
The living room is of a medium size, and is relatively well kept. There is a sofa set with a green floral pattern and several family photos hang on the wall.
The curtains are white lace stained by dust and rain. There is an old fashioned TV on a wooden cabinet, displayed with old toys and trophies. The linoleum floor is hidden by a red Persian rug, nearly gray from wear.
The windows are half open. There is a pile of books by the door, slumped over to the right. There are shreds of paper on the living room table. Upon further inspection, they contain writing, though they are barely readable and are written in Italian.
There is a tipped over white mug of coffee, staining the mantle, turning green into a murky brown. Some pieces of the mug are shattered and have spread across the table to the other side.
There are other things that are broken around the room. A flower vase full of petunias, a replica of the statue of liberty.
In the bedroom, the closet’s insides are spewn across the floor. Clothes flow from the drawer in an unceremonious heap. Several pairs of shoes circle the bed.
i jjust made it fist person. Is it cheating? Probably. Do I even remotely care right now? Hell no
Children are such small, bright things.
Babies escape from the womb, clawing their way through flesh, escaping with blood on their skin. The blood never stops. They only learn to get used to it.
Children are simple. They put things together differently than we do. Logic to them is folly to us. Meanwhile, our logic is so out of reach, so distant to their developing minds.
I was once a child too, you know. Despite all the descriptors attached to my name against my will, I too was innocent. I don't remember much about it, not really.
Sometimes I see smiles in the back of my eye, some old fashioned music no one from this era listens to anymore.
Everything went dark that day.
I didn't even get to go to school yet. I was too young for that. I was too young for any of this. I was taken away from them.
I don't know if they sold me or if I was kidnapped. Maybe even a mix of both, what would I know. After that, my memory just… Blanked.
I remember his name, yes. It was Alexander. His surname is still a mystery to me to this day. We lived in a big house. An empty house. A cold, damp mansion where you couldn't hide anything from anyone. There were too many echoes, not enough noise.
He did something to me. I wasn't always like this. I was kinder back then. I suppose that's just how the world works, hm? But I don't remember. Maybe that's a good thing.
Sometimes I woke up with bruises all over me, thrown into a corner of my room until I could go back to normal.
Normal… I may have been kind, but I was never really normal, not really. People said I asked too many questions or that I should smile more. That I look like a doll. That's all I was, really. A doll. A pretty thing to look at.
Then I killed him.
What? Surprised? You shouldn't be. Someone like me doesn't just pop up out of nowhere. People are forged by the fires they grew up in. You should know that by now.
I didn't even mean to. I guess it just comes naturally. But I was free, and I was happy. I stayed on the streets for a while, hoping no one noticed me.
Then I met him. I'm not telling you who he is. That's beyond what you're asking of me. Even a person like me has rights, don't I? But yeah, he helped me out. He didn't have a home either, hell, he was just a normal guy, but he was the key for me.
I had a place to stay and a place to eat. My anger and spite was boiling up until that point. Yes, I was rather immature in my early years. How old was I… Thirteen? I'm ashamed of what I did at the time. So amateur.
I'm not apologizing. You deserved that. But we're getting sidetracked. I assume you know most of the story now? I start what you call my little band of misfits. You struggle to detain six teenagers. It's pathetic, really!
But, of course, all good things must come to an end. I don't even know how you caught me. Lucky you, I guess. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention.
Unfortunately for you, my ride is here. I would normally say until we meet again, but I would very much rather never to meet you again.
extremely short, but I'm tired and it's midnight so
“Hey, boss. What are we doing this time?”
“Don't call me boss, I'm two years younger than you. Is Jay really that hard for you?”
“Fine, Miss Jay.”
“Whatever. There's this exotic animal collector in the capital. Carl Harrison. Forty-three, with a wife and two sons. He's the CEO of a housing company and has too much money to know what to do with it.”
“He isn't treating them well, are they?”
“Would I bother going there if he was? Apparently, he also has a few gifteds. Says they're a dying breed.”
“Holy shit, you should have started with that. How many?”
“Not a lot, from what I could gather. The places selling them are few and rare. But somehow I missed some of them and they ended up in his grasp.”
“Do we have their ages? Names?”
“Mostly family. No names, they seem untraceable. It's likely that they were born without names and then sold off, any search for their identity leads to nothing.”
“Damn… this is fucked up.”
“That's a big understatement. I should have started with the capital instead of the outer rim, but that won't change anything at this point. I have his address. I already sent it to you.”
“So close to the Empress', huh.”
“I suspect she knows of the market and supports it behind the curtains. Several investigations have been started that were quickly shut down in her name.”
“Makes me hate the bitch even more.”
“You're coming, right? If you can't, I'm taking Nick, but I prefer you on board in this situation.”
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from @kcl-teaches's 365 writing challenge: write a story about a character after a new year's eve party.
Jay didn't know much about what was happening. She was half asleep, full to the brim, and barely able to move.
The background still continued, though. That horrendous party music kept on playing. Someone was singing along. Horribly off key, too.
Somehow she ended up leaning against the girl she would die for. Her mind blanked before she realized what just happened, and she sat right up, headache be damned.
Anara looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Why so embarrassed? Come on! It's not like there's anyone else here.”
“I'm right here, you know.” Zach was lying on the sofa, watching something on his phone while eating too many chips than what's healthy.
“Oh, shut up. If Nick was here, we both know you would've–”
He threw a sofa pillow at her, knocking over the Pringle can he was eating from. “That was once, Nars. Move on!”
She smirked, hands on her hips. “Oh? You wanna do it again?”
“Anara, I swear to God I–”
There was a knock on the door. Jay glanced at the clock.
It was two a.m.
Anara tried to get up, but Jay stopped her, grabbing her sleeve. “I'll do it. You can sit down.”
“Jay, wait–”
She unlocked the door, standing straight, face blank. “Who is it?”
It was a middle aged woman, with her warm brown hair cropped short right under her chin. She wore a red dress, and her black heels clinked against the concrete floor.
Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying the whole night. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were on the ground.
Jay heard footsteps behind me, but she wasn't worried. Zach peered over her shoulder. “What's the matter, ma'am?”
Her eyes met his. “Is it true? Can you really– can you really help anyone? Please, I'll pay anything, I… Please, help me!”
Tears were flowing down her face now, dark red drops falling on her skirt. They couldn't see her face anymore, as it was now completely facing down.
Anara tried to say something, but Zach nudged her. “Let's slow down a little. What's wrong?”
“M-my son, I was walking with him earlier. I didn't mean to take my eyes off him, but when I looked back, he was just… He was gone.”
Anara's eyes widened. This was very different from the usual job they got. Zach kept calm. “Where was this?”
“Just down the street, in front of the new boutique.”
Jay spoke up. “Have you tried calling the police? We might not be the best people for this.”
She looked away again, shoulders slumping. “I… Can't.”
All of them understood what that meant. They didn't exist, not legally.
Zach smiled “We’ll find your son, ma'am. We promise.”
She leaned into the doorway, almost into the apartment, and hugged him. For the first time in the conversation, he looked surprised. “Thank you… Thank you so much.”
Anara grinned. “Just doing our job, miss!”
—
Anara looked like she was going to burn down the entire world. “Seriously, just us three? Can't you call your boyfriend or something?”
Zach stopped walking, face flushed. “He's not my– ugh. He's busy. He's on vacation, remember?”
She huffed. “You're not even gifted! I can hold them off pretty well, but how are we gonna finish them off, huh?”
“Why do you assume he was kidnapped?” Jay asked, still walking ahead of them. “For all we know, he might've gotten lost or something.”
“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, Jeanna!”
The streets were quiet, with the odd drunk friend group here and there. There was the faint smell of smoke in the air, leftover from the fireworks.
The mother, Mrs. Wright, as she said, was following behind them, hands grasping her purse behind her back.
They arrived at the boutique. The shop was nearly closed. There were only two employees inside. The doors were half closed off, half opened.
Anara walked up to them. “Have you seen a kid around here? Brown hair, this tall, wearing a dinosaur t-shirt?”
One of them hummed, setting down her broom. “I think I saw him, he ran around that corner over there. He was talking to someone, but we were busy at the time, so I didn't really hear it, sorry.”
I heard Mrs Wright gasp behind me. Zach looked like he wanted to scream. Or throw up. Why not both. Anara smiled. “It's fine. Thanks anyways!”
She walked out, scowling. “Jesus, this is gonna be a long night.”
Zach put his hands in his pockets, and started walking towards the corner. “At least we know he wasn't taken by force. That rules out a lot of people.”
The little road by the side wasn't that special, at first glance. It was pretty modest, with a few family owned restaurants and residential buildings.
But if you know the right kind of people, it's a trading route, information center, entertainment hub, and most importantly, one of the most dangerous places in the city.
Jay's eyes scanned over the roads, the trash cans, the blacked out windows. Nothing. It wasn't a very long street, but there were a lot of places to hide. Places to disappear in, never to be seen again.
They searched everywhere, asked the people they knew, climbed the buildings. They did everything they could, used every card up their sleeve to get into the places no one else could. Nothing came up.
Around one hour in, they were just about to lose hope. Mrs Wright was crying again, and Zach was sitting next to her, comforting her. His specialty.
Jay heard something. A child's voice. It was faint, and it wasn't very loud, but she could still hear it. She sat up, following the sound. The rest of them ran after her, catching up.
There he was, the little boy himself, talking to a man. The man was tall, with dark hair and darker eyes. He was wearing a suit.
Most importantly, he had a gun. But he didn't seem to be hostile to the boy. Instead, his eyes were soft, and his lips were tilted up in a smile.
The boy was chattering on, eyes alight. When he saw his mother, his smile got even wider. “Mommy! Look! It's the guy that saved us!” Her eyes widened.
He went on. “He said that I can go to his school if I wanted! He has a huuuuuge school next to his house, and I can study there! I can be a scientist, mommy!”
She kneeled down next to him, grasping him in a tight hug.
“Don't you ever worry me like that again, Evan Wright.”
“Mommy…?”
Zach smiled. “Our work here is done. Let's go home, I'm so tired I'm gonna collapse.”
Anara snorted. “Weak. You guys go on without me, I need to get something before I leave.”
“What would you possibly need to get from the market at this time?”
“Nuh-uh! That's my business, you nosy little shit! Now go on! Shoo!”
He sighed. “Why am I even friends with you?”
“I ask myself that exact same question every single day! Now get out! I have business to do!”
—
It was so quiet you could hear your own heart beat. She turned around to face him, face in a snarl.
