Story Writing - Blog Posts

Chapter 1: Present time

This chapter contains themes that may be sensitive to some readers, including:

References to past violenceMentions of death, Light school stress and academic pressure, Brief mention of dangerous creatures and plants (idk how sensitive are yall but hell yeah), Mild language.

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Hagarin's POV After many years, we are finally old enough to leave the institution and live independently in the city. My sisters and I are still together and living under the same roof. I also saw several changes in ourselves as we grew up.

And today, both Hanari and I are 15 years old. We spent years studying within the facility and never had the opportunity to attend a regular school. Now that we are living alone, we can finally attend school. I considered staying at home and do houseworks while my two sisters continue with their studies, but Hanari insisted that I should as well.

We all know that education will always be important in many aspects in lives. 

In the world we live in, survival demands sharp minds—not just sharpened by magic, but by the brutal chaos we humans created for ourselves.

We’re still human, I suppose. Just tainted—twisted by the very magic that makes me wonder: is this still humanity, or were we meant to become something else entirely? 

The world has grown far more advanced ever since magic spread across it. Nothing feels impossible anymore. Some have forgotten where they came from. Others cling to old traditions and beliefs. And then there are those who simply don’t care.

Maybe that’s why the world feels so loud. Everyone’s different now, and no one seems willing to accept what we’ve become.

Look around, and you might see flying cars soaring through the skies of this city. In another, people ride enchanted brooms as their everyday transport. Everything and everyone is different—blended together in a strange mix of magic, machines, and habits.

But here…

I live in a city considered the richest in the world. The nation itself—Aloy—owes its wealth to vast oil reserves. Oil money built everything here. Because of that upper hand, nearly everything is accessible. Magic, technology, luxury—you name it. In Aloy, nothing feels out of reach.

What this city values most, though, isn’t oil—it’s metal. Preserved, traded, revered. I think it’s because the city was once ruled by a god whose very touch could turn anything into metal. Not figuratively—literally. Stone, wood, even flesh. Everything he touched became metal.

And that kind of power leaves a mark. On the land, on the people, on the way we see worth.

But that might not matter now. What matters is that every morning, we follow a certain timetable. I get up early to cook our breakfast, and Hanari and our younger sister will get up early to prepare for school. When they're finished, we'll all enjoy breakfast together. After that, Hanari will wash the dishes as I prepare for school, and our younger sister will assist in putting the plates back in the drawers.

That routine goes on and on everyday.

Sharing what has just happened at the school we attend is stressful, at least for me and Hanari. Our younger sister is stress-free since she is still young and a kindergarten student.

Lately, we have been learning many magic spells, doing scientific experiments, studying a bunch of literature and theses, and many more.

I can say that studying magic spells and doing scientific experiments will help us discover what elemental power we possess.

As I listen to my journalism teacher, I'm fighting the urge to fall asleep. She was now discussing the significance of magic, particularly how it began.

"Magic is important to everyone. No matter how unfair or how much chaos it brings to our lives." she went on to say. "And, in the beginning, the use of magic was legalized as a weapon to defend ourselves, but I have to warn everyone not to be such a prick when it comes to using magic." She giggled, went to the board, and began writing.

"To be exact, 8290 years ago, magic was discovered by a witch," she said, making my focus adjust to her as I listened. I was intrigued. "That witch was none other than Victoria Lemioska." It intrigued the whole class. "Also known as; Victo. Now that you all came to a realization, in all places in the world, her face, and statues are everywhere. As we are all deeply connected with her discovery of the magic," she said before turning to us once again.

"Since Victo is a witch, she first discovered a spell to make a withered plant come back to life." The teacher pulled out a withered rose and used magic to bring it back to a healthy life while it floated in the air. "Victo discovered that spell and named it Resuscitate."

"As time passes by, more spells are discovered by her."

"You can learn it in your spell class."

"But as a journalist, I have seen her notebook filled with magical spells; half of it is forbidden to be used as it casts irreversible damage to anything." She snapped her fingers, making an image of the notebook appear in the air.

We all gazed up, awestruck. It's quite a hefty notepad. Though the object is significantly tarnished due to its age, I can see that the writing on the notepad is still legible and readable to anybody. However, I was attracted by the prohibited magic. I feel that the banned spells are not included in the magic books that are handed to us.

when the image disappeared and the rose landed on her desk. "The notebook was located in our national museum, the Metallica Museum." Our teacher was about to speak again, but then a student raised their hand.

"Ma'am, what about the five major elements?" A student asked.

"The five major elements were discovered by Baili Hermin," our teacher stated. "He was also a journalist like me, and of course, being a journalist requires traveling around the world to explore many things."

"Fun fact, he also used to work under the branch of media analyst, wherein I also work." She proudly claimed. "Moving on, it may sound unrealistic, but Baili met Victoria in a desert. Baili was almost attacked by a lion, but Victo blinded the lion with a spell and took Baili to a cave."

"There's proof, no matter how unrealistic, that Baili's diary was found, and it was also in the museum. He documented his whole journey of travelling around the world, and the most highlighted part of his diary was the discovery of the five major elements."

"He discovered it because of Victo. Baili wrote everything about what Victo said about magic spells, making it more believable that magic spells exist."

"When the article reached many people, the majority of the people started to panic, and out of panic, everyone else planned to execute Victo. The reason is that Victo is nothing but an outcast in the world; possessing magic is absurd and unbelievable."

"And yet, we are here, prone to using magic," our teacher said.

"The elements were discovered when Victo was executed; a light escaped from her chest, making it explode through the sky. It landed on humans, animals, and most importantly, plants."

"Which resulted in why we have species in the forest that are completely dangerous and can harm your life, for example, the flower Rafflesia."

"Before the light landed on that flower, it's just the biggest flower in the world and has a foul odor to attract insects to kill."

"Now it still does its purpose, but it has the ability to stretch away from its position and follow you everywhere in the forest." Our teacher deadpanned making the whole class laughed.

"To make this quick, the five major elements landed on five humans, and those humans are now known to be the gods of those major elements." Our teacher sighed. "We are all aware that the most powerful and rare element to possess is time; in other words, you can control the time, predict what's going to happen, and there are many other signs to feel if you possess one."

"Second is nature."

"Remember, never mess with nature itself, as it was the one that gave us a reason to live in, to breathe in. The ability to possess nature grants you access to control plants and animals."

"But isn't changing the weather also a part of it?" A student asked. "Only the god of nature can do that." Our teacher chuckled. "Come to think of it, the God of Nature has a 15-year streak of absence. Many say that her aura is still around, but many also believe she has passed away, and it's just nature speaking," the teacher sighed.

"Moving on, fire is on the third."

"In my study, fire is always predicted to be possessed by someone who has such a boisterous personality, while the ice one is someone who is...restrained. However, this is just a myth. It is still mostly believed that no matter what personality you posses you'd still get whatever." our teacher summoned her book and it was probably her personalized book. It has a lot of pages and everything that was written in that book was her understanding on how to predict which element do a person possesses.

"ah, here it is." She placed her book on the desk and started reading.

"The element of fire is known to be the most fascinating, exquisite and ravishing elemental of all. It was asserted as one considering a klatsch of people are indulged to play with fire even if it only steers to harm."

"and by all means of harm, it can also be describe as destruction." she finished making the whole class whisper among themselves. "But that doesn't mean to treat someone with disrespect just because they hold that elemental power." She sighed.

THIRD PERSON'S POV

The teacher noticed the change of atmosphere in her class and sighed. "You all probably have forgotten my name but once again, my name is Renée and I hope you all learned something today." Renée glanced at her watch on her wrist.

many students started to protest on her from leaving. They still have a lot of questions with the history but that will all be answered at the next time they see each other again. Renée only stifled a chuckle at the frustrated expression of their students. Curiosity truly made their heads run wild.

"An advance reading on your textbooks won't hurt. Simply just turn your page to chapter 5 and all of your questions will be briefly answered as it provides descriptive explanation to everything." Renée finally exit the classroom.

Once she did, the students in her class opened their textbooks to discover a lot more information. As Renée exit the classroom, she went to the elevator to venture her way to her next class but she was greeted by another teacher; Kyla.

"I see you've gotten your students all pumped up. Quite a headache to deal with." Kyla scoffed as she pressed on the buttons. It only made Renée shrug. "Don't act like you aren't as curious as them when you're at that age." Renée retorted to only make Kyla chuckle and let Renée's tone slide for now. "I assumed you've found someone with a rare element in this class. Hmm?" Kyla's eyes watched Renée's expression from the reflections of the elevator.

"It was such a rare occurrence indeed." Renée remembered Hagarin. "Her eyes are different from the rest. The colors were a lot more dull than the others making it more accessible to assume that she was an extraordinary person." Renée thoughtfully answered. "And this by this she you are referring to, who is she?" Kyla averted her eyes from Renée and focused on the door as it opened. a small ding was heard as they reached the floor. Renée walked ahead of Kyla but spoke before leaving. "Hagarin."

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2,022 words.

Chapter 2

PLZ HELP

I am writing a novel I need help I have writers block HOW DO I GET RID OF IT???

Daily Doodles- Day 159- 24/09/24

Another drawing based on a story idea that I had.

Be careful what you say, for your words have power.

The tag for this is #agdoodles

Daily Doodles- Day 157- 24/09/24

This was supposed to be a cute librarian girl. She's cute, but doesn't really scream 'librarian'.

I was looking into what education I needed to pursue to be a librarian. I'm good with where I'm at right now, but I may want to pursue something else one day.

The tag for this is #agdoodles

Daily Doodles- Day 156- 23/09/24

A creepy cute bunny-mask wearing being. Yes I was veeeeeeeeeery loosely inspired by the harpy hare song.

The tag for this is #agdoodles

Daily Doodles- Day 155- 19/09/24

A drawing based on a story idea I had in 2018 after the massive flooding that my country experienced.

'They used to say 'God is a Trini!'. Disrespectful in retrospect. They don't say that now, not since the floods came. We used to be Trinidad and Tobago. Now we is just Port of Spain.

The tag for this is #agdoodles

Daily Doodles- Day 146- 09/09/24

More Eliza Pepperton!

The tag for this is #agdoodles

Daily Doodles- Day 145- 09/09/24

'Eliza Pepperton and Purple Grove Case Files'

That sounds like a really cool book! Unfortunately, it doesn't exist, but this drawing of Ms. Eliza Pepperton does!

The tag for this is #agdoodles

Daily Doodles- Day 97- 22/07/24

My OC Sabrina in her cool super spy suit!

The tag for this is #agdoodles

One of my fave story ideas. I hope I get around to expanding on it!

Short Story- Not Another Paranormal Romance: By Adinelle Ggreeo

'The new boy was a demon straight from hell, who came to corrupt their school and she was the only one who was trying to do something about it.'

Fourteen-year-old Gabriella Pierre seems to be the only person at her school not completely enamoured by the supernaturally beautiful Cyrus Hinds, the new boy in their year. A simple touch of hands reveals to her an insidious visage and dark designs now intent on destroying her life.

'What better way for a demon to mess with a teenage girl than to 'fall in love' with her?'

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The new boy was a demon. She knew that it was hard to believe. Her friends didn't even believe her when she tried to tell them! They laughed, thinking she had a crush on the thing and was trying to deny it! The new boy–thing–creature, calling itself Cyrus was a demon straight from hell, who came to corrupt their school and she was the only one who was trying to do something about it.

He came to their school in the middle of the second term, an awkward time to transfer schools, especially secondary schools. He was placed in class 3-B as they had space from a couple of students who transferred out the years before. Gabriella was in class 3-D, so she didn't see or hear much about the new boy until lunchtime. She sat with her friends, Amaya, Kadiah and Marissa at their usual corner table in the cafeteria. Huffing softly, she listened as they gushed about him.

Amaya, being from 3-B, had all the gossip. Their usually quieter friend had a lot to say. With stars in her eyes and awe in her voice, she told them about the tall, handsome boy with deep brown skin and eyes like Brown Obsidian gems. His voice was warm and sweet like hot chocolate, his smile was as bright as diamonds and–

“He's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen!" she signed dreamily. Her wild curly hair flew around her, seeming to be taking part in her excitement and her glasses nearly fell off her face as she gestured wildly.

Gabriella huffed again.

"That's not saying much, Maya. Boys aren't that cute in the first place."

Marissa sighed in exasperation.

"Oh come on, girl. I know you have high standards when it comes to boys, but this one sounds like he would definitely surpass them!" She flicked her long plait over her shoulder, grinning mischievously.

Not this again. Gabriella rolled her eyes.

"I have zero standards for them because I expect them to always be up to no good!"

Her friends laughed good-naturedly.

"Whatever you say, Gabs," Kadiah chuckled. Her fingers were twirling one of her twists as she turned back to Amaya, who took that as her cue to continue singing praises about the new boy.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the entrance. A small crowd was starting to form and voices were rising.

'Ahh,' she thought. 'The man of the hour is here.'

Sure enough, as the crowd parted like the red sea, the new boy came into view.

Oh wow. Gabriella felt her heart flutter a little in her chest. She frowned. It seemed Amaya wasn't exaggerating. He actually was that beautiful.

She thought he looked like one of those royal elves from the Young Adult novels the girls liked to swoon over. He was tall and trim with wide shoulders and a slim waist. The boring white shirt and purple trousers that was the boys’ uniform looked like designer wear on him. He had smooth skin with a few moles here and there and warm dark eyes. He smiled at the people around him, dazzling them with his pearly white teeth. His afro hair was cut into a fade with pentagram star designs on each side of his head. She was surprised he got away with that.

Everyone seemed to be eager to meet the new boy, practically throwing themselves in his face for him to notice them. Gabriella looked on in confusion, her face screwing up at the behaviour. What kind of circus show was this? Are they not embarrassed? These kinds of things only happened in the movies! She couldn't believe people were behaving this way. And over a boy! Sure, a very handsome boy, but still!

"Ahhhhh!" Amaya whisper-squealed. "He's coming this way!" She had latched on to Gabriella's arm squeezing and shaking her. Slapping her friend's hands away, she watched as the new boy made his way over to their table. Already a bit annoyed and not really in the mood to be nice, she spoke before the boy could open his mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

Her friends were aghast, trying to apologize to him and scold her at the same time. He waved them off, laughing softly. Her friends melted. Ugh.

"Amaya right?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer from the girl, he pulled out a sparkly pink pen from his trousers pocket, holding it out to her.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Amaya took the pen reverently. Marissa and Kadiah gaze upon it as if it held the secrets to the universe. Amaya, still too shocked to say anything just nodded, still giggling.

Not missing a beat, the new boy carried on the one-sided conversation. "Are these your friends?"

That shook her back into existence. Amaya jerked, almost falling out of her chair.

"Yeah-Yes!" she almost yelled. "Th-these are my friends Marissa, Kadiah and Gabriella, who's normally really nice." She gave Gabriella an annoyed yet pleading look.

'Play nice and please don't embarrass us to death,' she seemed to say. "Everyone, this is Cyrus!"

Gabriella rolled her eyes but kept quiet. Cyrus smiled at the group and her friends visibly swooned. Honestly! She was starting to feel like she was in a teen drama!

"Nice to meet you all," he said. He held out his hand to shake. Kadiah, who was closest took it immediately, with both of hers.

"Yes, sooo nice to meet you!" she gushed.

Amaya and Marissa were more dignified, softly shaking his hand and giggling all the while. Gabriella stared at his hand for a few seconds. She looked up at him and scowled slightly when she saw that he was grinning down at her. He cocked an eyebrow in challenge. Fine then. She took his hand.

And that’s when things grew weird and terrifying.

Where their hands touched, smoke began to form and deep, nasty burns bloomed across his skin. The air filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Before she could pull back in horror, he did. He yanked his ruined hand back, cradling it to his chest. He hissed at her, his beautiful face contorting grotesquely. And not in the normal way your face goes ugly when you're angry. No, his face grew long and his mouth wide. His teeth went from perfect pearls to long, crooked, yellow daggers. His ears grew tall, long and pointed, like some kind of animal's and his eyes flashed bright and red, burning with a fire that could only be from hell.

Before she could scream, everything went back to normal.

Gabriella blinked, still frozen from the terror at what she saw. But Cyrus looked normal. Normal, pretty face and perfect smile. No pointy ears or red hellfire eyes. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but he wasn't behaving as if he had horrible third-degree burns. She slowly looked around at her friends, and at the other students in the cafeteria. No one was acting out of the ordinary. No one was acting as if Cyrus had just transformed into a monster. He wasn't acting as of he had just transformed into a monster.

Gabriella looked on as he made an excuse to leave, something about needing to head to the principal's office. Her friends cheerfully said their goodbyes. Amaya elbowed her not too gently.

"Fix your face," she hissed.

Gabriella felt the deep frown on her face. She smoothed out her expression but didn't bother to smile as her eyes met his. They were warm and brown and shining with interest. He didn't look upset but intrigued. He smiled at her, a slow, small smile that was meant to look shy.

"See you later, Gabriella?"

His eyes flashed red for just a millisecond. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to get up and scream at him, curse him out, maybe grab his face to see if it would burn just like his hand. But no. She would look crazy and get in trouble for attacking the new boy. So she smiled her fakest smile and said,

"See you later, Cyrus”.

Gabriella had some investigating to do.

Short Story- An 'Angel' Passing Through: By Adinelle Ggreeo

We have this saying from back in the day, for when a room full of people (usually a class full of chatty students) all of a sudden go completely quiet for a few seconds.

'An Angel just passed through!' someone would jokingly say, breaking the silence.

It's a soothing thought.

Claire, unfortunately, finds out the hard way that it's anything but an angel.

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It was a regular day for the girls of class 3-A at St. Christopher Girls’ Secondary School. It was their English Language period with the well-liked teacher, Mrs Hayes. She was one of the more lenient teachers and let them get away with a little bit more. Like just then. It was fifteen minutes before the bell rang for lunch and instead of trying to cram more knowledge into their brains, she gave them a short worksheet to complete, telling them that she would be collecting them in their next class. The girls of 3-A took the wonderful opportunity given to do the one thing they like most: to talk. While Mrs Hayes took the little time left to start marking some papers, the students’ chatter filled the classroom with a low buzz.

Two girls sat at the back of the class. One with afro hair that she wore in two neat puffs at the top of her head with a navy blue headband as an accessory. The other wore her hair in long braids that she tied up into a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Their names were Claire Baptiste and Kadisha Benedicte. These best friends sat at the back of the class, to the left of the room and right in line with the teacher’s L-shaped desk. They were out of her sight behind two more desks of classmates. Perfect for uninterrupted conversation.

‘Soooo,’ Kadisha drawled, grinning at Claire. ‘I have a new boyfriend! It’s Chey, from the boys’ school. Remember him?’

Claire rolled her eyes, scoffing good-naturedly. She did remember him. She was glad to know her friend’s taste wasn’t totally trash.

‘Yeah,’ she said ‘But isn’t he the third one this month?’

Kadisha looked away, slightly embarrassed, tucking an escaped braid behind her ear.

‘Well, like he’s the fifth,’ she mumbled. ‘But, we went to the mall yesterday and he bought me ice cream!’

Giving her a look, Claire said, ‘We go to the mall and buy each other ice cream all the time. He has to come better than that.’

Kadisha sighed in exasperation.

‘You don’t understand, Claire! We really need to get you a boyfriend!’ ‘Ha! No thanks!’

Kadisha sucked her teeth.

‘Whatever! Anyway, after the ice cream we...,’

Claire nodded along to her friend’s tale while she absentmindedly doodled in the margins of her worksheet. Slightly hypnotised by the squiggles and swirls she was making on the paper, she didn’t realise that Kadisha had stopped talking. Coming back to full awareness but still looking at her worksheet, she realised that it wasn’t just Kadisha that stopped talking. The buzz of chatter in the classroom had ceased. She looked up and jerked in her seat at the sight of her friend’s face. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes round with excitement. Her hands were thrown back and some of her hair was caught between her fingers. Placing her hand over her racing heart, Claire laughed softly.

“Girl, you look so stupid!”

But Kadisha didn’t respond. Actually, she didn’t move at all. Not even a twitch of her lips or fingers. She was still, like a statue. The smile slowly slipped off Claire’s face.

“Kadisha?”

Her friend remained silent.

Feeling slightly unsettled, Claire looked around the classroom. She felt her stomach drop as she took in the stillness. Everyone was frozen, posed awkwardly in their seats, with their hair suspended in the air, pens and pencils frozen in mid-drop and sheets of paper paused in their fluttering from of the tables. Clair, pushed her chair back, wincing at the loud screech of the legs dragging against the terrazzo floor. Even though there seemed to be no one to interrupt, she slowly crept on her tiptoes towards the desk next to theirs.

The closest girl, Zara Crawford, had big round glasses and her frizzy was hair in four ponytails. Her eyes were screwed shut and her hands covered the big smile on her face. Claire poked her at first, then tried to shake her when she didn’t react at all. She tried the same with the next girl, Clara. She didn’t even twitch.

Claire, starting to feel disquieted, scampered around the class, poking, shaking, flicking and pulling hair, trying to get some kind of reaction. Not one person moved. She finally skidded to a stop in front of Mrs Hayes’s desk, catching her breath. Like everyone else, Mrs Hayes was frozen, bent over the papers she was marking. Dashing the papers off the desk and banging on the wood, Claire screamed in her teacher’s face.

“Wake up!”

Like everyone else, she remained as she was.

With dread overtaking her, she slowly backed away. Her attention was drawn to the doorway and while staring at the tree in the plot of grass past the corridor, she realised that she couldn’t hear the rustling of the leaves. Actually, she couldn’t hear anything at all. No birds chirping, no insects chittering, no sounds from the surrounding classrooms. Having a bad feeling, Claire ran out the door, barging into the classroom to the left of hers. Just like her classmates, everyone was still. She ran into the class next to theirs. Same thing. The class at the far end, the same and the form four class across from theirs. All the same.

Gasping and close to tears, she stumbled back to her classroom at a loss for what to do. The whole world it seemed like, was frozen and all the sound was gone. Except for her. Her footsteps and whimpering were uncomfortably loud in the eerie stillness. She reached the door of her classroom, pausing briefly to take in the frozen forms of her classmates, dreading that she had to sit in their stillness. Sniffling, she placed a hand on the doorframe and stepped over the threshold. She never made it past the door.

She had one foot past the threshold. As soon as her shoe touched the floor, Her whole body was locked in place and the world around her began to change. The light blue walls of the classroom, the whiteboard, the lockers and the floor all began to melt, the colours and textures slowly sloughing off and sliding away. In its wake was a ghastly, roiling mass of colours that she’s never seen and a pitch-black darkness. They moved in and out and in between each other, writhing like they were alive.

With their appearance, the sound came back. And what horrible sounds they were. A thick squelching and a ringing that alternated from a high, ear-piercing sound to a low ominous hum. It vibrated around her, torturing her ears, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin and sending her heart into a panic. The strange colours and the darkness seethed around her, seeming to close in on her. Claire wanted to scream, but her lips remained firmly closed. Her eyes, the only part of her that could freely move looked on as the colours and the darkness began to churn faster, converging in the corner of the classroom diagonal to the door. They twisted and turned, the squelching sounds increasing and the ringing lowering to that horrible, low drone. They began to bulge out as if something was pushing on them and horror filled Claire’s heart when she realised that something was trying to come through.

A long black thing pushed through first, dripping with the colours and the darkness. The spindly twigs at the end of it slowly curled into themselves. It was a hand and those twigs were long bony fingers. The rest of the thing came after. Claire could barely comprehend what she was seeing. As it oozed through the rapidly distorting colours and the darkness, It began to grow and grow and grow. There was no ceiling to hinder it. It had no discernible form. There was no head and no face. It kept shifting and twisting into tattered ribbons of black and they swirled around like a mini hurricane. Pale, glowing orbs were embedded in the parts that the ribbons revealed. They moved and rolled around, leaking a thick black substance that flew off to join the rest of its swirling form. They vaguely looked like eyes pouring dark tears. The limb it used to push through into the classroom had disappeared. There was no indication that it even existed. There were no other limbs to be seen. It was a mass of swirling darkness with orbs all over its form and it brought with it such a bone-chilling dread that Claire thought she was dying. The ringing had gone high again, the shrill sound increasing her fear.

It slowly, so slowly began to move away from the corner, making its way between the desks. It did not touch the girls. It didn’t pay them any attention at all. It left a trail of the dark substance in its wake that was absorbed into the colour and darkness that was the floor. Claire watched the thing as it made its way to the front of the class, pausing where the whiteboard was and pulling one of its long, spidery limbs from the confines of its form. It was so close and Claire was so afraid. Desperately, she began to pray.

As if sensing her pleas, the thing whipped around to face her. Its form contorted abnormally and all of its orbs turned to look at her. The high-pitched ringing abruptly stopped and Claire silently sobbed. They both stared at each other for a short while. Then suddenly the thing was right in front of her. It was crouched down, so the place where its face should have been was right in front of hers. There was one big orb embedded there. It was still as it observed her. With her heart trying to beat out of her chest, Claire could only watch as it brought its hand up to her face, one of its skinny fingers held up. It dripped with the strange black liquid. A soft whistling sound filled the air around them. It rose high and loud, assaulting her already hurting ears. Its orb began to glow white hot, so bright. One moment, she was looking into the face of what she thought was death, the next, she was blinded by the expanding glow and knew no more.

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Mrs Hayes softly laughed to herself at the three seconds of silence from the class.

‘An angel passed through,’ she thought, remembering the old saying the adults used to chuckle about when she was a young girl.

Immediately after, a scream pierced the air. It was coming from right outside the class. She shot up from her chair, almost slipping and sliding on some of the papers that were for some reason on the floor. Some of the students followed, their desks and chairs scrapping against the floor as they scrambled out of their seats.

She almost ran her over when she shot out the door.

There was Claire, curled up on the floor right outside the door, still screaming. Her arms were wrapped around her head and she was clawing at her hair, pulling the strands out of their puffs. She knelt by her, trying to gently pry her hands away from her face and head, but her hold was like a vice. Other teachers and students, disturbed by the screaming, had come out to check.

What happened? How did her student who sat at the back of the class end up outside the door? She didn’t see her pass by. And the screaming. It was filled with genuine fear and pain. She could barely hear the other teachers as they tried to talk to her.

Her other students all huddled by the door, some starting to cry and wail at the sight of their classmate. Claire’s seatmate and possibly her good friend had pushed herself to the front of the crowd, trying to reach out to her, but was held back by another teacher who was failing to console her. Her own screaming and crying added to the utter confusion of the situation. Thankfully, someone had gotten the school nurse who arrived with a wheelchair. As the nurse wheeled the still-screaming girl away, Mrs Hayes, with a racing heart and an unnerving feeling about what happened, shook herself and breathed, turning towards her distraught girls.

It looked like lunch would be a bit early that day.

Short Story- Shades of Violet: By Adinelle Ggreeo

I can see the good and the bad in people.

Red and blue are what I see. Throughout my life, people have come in many different shades of purple.

We all have the capacity for good and bad within us. Our shades of purple depend on whether we choose to listen more to the angel or to the demon on our shoulders.

But there are those that have no angel at all.

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I can see the good and the bad in people. I've had this ability since I was a young girl. It appears to me as an aura around the person, emanating from their heart space. Red and blue are what I see. Red for bad, blue for good. Simple stuff. Though human beings are not that simple. Red and blue mixed make purple. Throughout my life, people have come in many different shades of purple. We all have the capacity to do good or bad. Our shades of purple depend on whether we listen to the angel on our shoulders or the demon. But there are those that have no angel at all.

One instance was in a church, of all places. An acquaintance of mine invited me to a Sunday mass at her community's church. She was very braggadocios with her invitation, telling me all about the beauty of the building and the status of her community. She was the kind of woman who cared too much about how she looked and what people thought about her. All the while, she judged others for those same insecurities. She was a little on the red side of purple. Just a little. I didn't think too much of it. She wasn't bad, just superficial. So I said yes.

When I walked into the church that Sunday, I was immediately on guard. There was a worrying amount of red-violet people walking around. They smiled their false smiles and spoke their false well wishes to each other. One of them came up to me, a woman. She was decked all in red. Red dress, red lips, red fingernails and toenails, and an almost red aura. She looked me up and down as she walked over. It was slight and quick, but I saw her nose wrinkle and the corners of her lips turned down. I suppose she wasn't a fan of my hand-me-down cotton dress on my plain brown flats. Her wide smile snapped back into place, and she greeted me with a high voice, speaking loudly enough for others to hear. She was apparently one of the ushers. I told her I was invited by an acquaintance and asked if I could be seated with her. Apparently not.

“Oh, newcomers sit at the back, sweetie,” she said, showing me to one of the pews in a dark corner of the church. I was the only one sitting there, which was strange for such a large church.

The building itself was quite grand. It really was as beautiful as I was told. It had tall ceilings with Victorian-esque chandeliers and large, colourful stained glass windows that lined the walls. They depicted in grand detail The Passion of Christ. Statues of St. Mary, Jesus Christ, and various Angels and saints painted in gold and jewel tones stood tall near the altar. The altar itself looked more like a performance stage. I could see stage lights all around. the priest's chair looked more like a throne, tall, wide and covered in rich purple velvet and what looked like precious gems. Very pretty, but unnecessary. I sat there uncomfortably, taking in the church and watching the people, seeing very few of a blue hue.

My final straw was when the priest came in with all the altar servers and lectures. As we all stood for their entrance, I noticed how everyone was placed. All the people grew redder the closer to the altar they were. Then I saw the priest at the end of the procession. Decked out in his white robes, he glowed a deep, blood red, brighter than I'd ever seen and I was immediately filled with dread and horror. I didn't care how it looked, I got up and power-walked down the aisle. I ran when I heard someone call out. I refused to stay in the same space as someone so vile as to have the aura of blood.

The acquaintance and I are no longer familiar.

Another instance happened when I was a teenager and thankfully, it was just in passing. My friends and I were at the mall, just hanging out. Those were our ‘window shopping’ days, when we had nothing but lint in our pockets, having spent all our allowances as soon as we got them. I'm a lot better at managing my money these days. We sat in the food court, nibbling on the sandwiches that we brought from home. we were people watching, well boy watching to be more accurate. Ooo-ing and Aah-ing over boys and men that were too old for us.

My friend, Sharon had pointed him out to us, her eyes wide with awe. The other girls were no better, openly staring at him with gaping mouths. It was obvious why. He was beautiful in an etheric way. He was tall and slim with dark brown skin that contrasted with his pure white afro hair. He wore it in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He wore all white. White short-sleeved button-up shirt, white trousers, and white sneakers with not a speck of dirt on them. He was looking down at a little black book he held in one hand as he walked by. His other hand gently grazed his sharp jawline. That drew our attention to his strong nose, plump lips and the long, dark lashes that framed his eyes.

“Oh my gosh, he looks like an anime boy!” my friend, Ali whisper-squealed.

The others chimed in with their agreement. I was watching his back as he left our sight with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Because that was the first time I'd ever seen a person glowing so red. his aura was the colour of rubies and it beamed out of him in tentacle-like rays, like a red sun.

“That one's your pick huh, Cici?” Sharon teased, elbowing me out of my trance. I force the giggle I'm trying to ignore the roiling in my stomach. I prayed to never see that boy again.

I have seen and met people that were fully blue. All of them were babies and small children, pure souls untouched by the darkness of the world. They start to become tinged with red by the time they're about ten years old. Children can be cruel, after all. I have yet to meet a blue adult. They don't exist. By the time we’ve reached that age, we’ve seen, experienced and done too much to not be tinged with red. This doesn't mean that I haven't met any good people. There are many good people walking this earth, contrary to popular belief. They come in different shades of violet and blue-violet. I'm glad to say that I see them daily among the reds.

Today, though, I ran into someone. Well, it’s more like they ran into me. They came barreling into me out of nowhere from among the crowd. I'm a small woman, so I went flying, hitting the ground hard. Thankfully, I had nothing to spill. My tailbone wasn't too happy though.

“I am so sorry, miss!” said a male voice.

I looked up at the man. he was holding out a hand to me with an apologetic look on his face. And he was still talking, probably still apologizing, but I couldn't help but stare. He was an average-looking man, his appearance a bit dishevelled. He had a mess of brown curls atop his head and a face dotted with small red pimples. He was in need of a shave, with a five o’clock shadow going across his face and down the underside of his chin. He had nice teeth though. They were straight and clean and so were his short nails. He wore a slightly oversized t-shirt and jeans and smelled faintly of fabric softener. A battered grey messenger bag hung off his shoulder.

His appearance was not what stalled me. It was his aura. his bright blue-like-the-sky aura.

In the midst of my shock, I didn't remember taking his hand and him pulling me up to stand. I came back to the present as he awkwardly patted me on the shoulder, still apologizing and then off he went, once again almost running through the crowd of people. I watched him go, his blue aura shining bright amongst the sea of purple. I looked on until I could no longer see him.

I gripped the strap of my shoulder bag tightly. I looked around at the violets and blue violets at the red violets and darker. I was worried. For the first time in my life, my sight failed me. A blue adult does not exist. I stand by that. I glanced back in the direction the man went.

So how do I explain him?

K.I.D.S- Komputers Invaders Defence Squad- Main Character Art

Finally got around to adding colour to my characters from an old story I'm rewriting!

The story was originally set in America, where I've never been. It didn't occur to 15-year-old me that I could pick anywhere else. I' 've since switched the setting to my home country, Trinidad and so the characters changed.

They're all 12-year-old (and one 11-year-old) first-form secondary school (high school) students who get caught up in a plot against a secret organisation. They end up becoming temporary members of said organisation for protection.

There's still so much I have to rework. I'm basically starting over with this one, especially since my views have changed on certain things (magic, fantasy, supernatural, etc.)

Like most things I do now, I try to keep God in mind when I'm creating it and I've been having fun with this one!

So I'm focusing on 'Time Warp' and fleshing out some of the antagonist characters. I realised they were just mean for being mean and it wouldn't make sense why they're targeting the protagonists.

This has me thinking about if I should include their POVs in the story because I wrote a whole page about why one of the characters decided to prank them and how they felt about it.

This story also has supernatural elements working in the background and I'm having fun coming up with different ways it communicates with them.

Once I have all the characters fully formed (to my standards) I'll show you guys some art!

Novel Length Ideas I'm Working On!

So now that I know how to plan my stories, I'm planning them!

I bought some of those clear folders that you can just slip your papers through to organize everything and I have a folder for each.

I've had many, many, many stories over the years, but these are the ones I've decided to focus on.

Not Another Paranormal Romance

Loved the idea for this one and really want to continue with it. You can read the short story I wrote from this idea here, here and here!

Diary of an Ex-Witch

A recent idea (like a week old or so) Was definitely inspired by reading the Bible and understanding a few things about GOD a bit better.

Time Warp/ Rewind

Name is pending. This is an idea I had when I was 17 and I absolutely HAVE to write this! Especially since I've gotten so many new ideas for it! It will be about two 3rd formers (13 to 14-year-olds) who mysteriously travel back in time to the week before they were cruelly pranked by their peers.

K.I.D.S

This was a story idea from when I was 15, heavily inspired by my favourite series at the time, N.E.R.D.S by Michael Buckley (I still have and read all the books to this day!)

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This story grew in originality as I got older and it went from being about exceptional kid spies (veeeerrrry similar to N.E.R.D.S) to regular kids unintentionally caught up in the secrets and drama of the hidden. I'm still working on organising my thoughts for this one, especially since I plan for it to be a trilogy.

I do plan to work on some short stories, both to share with you and to exercise my writing muscles. I may also share some snippets of writings based on these novel-length ideas. I find that writing shorts featuring your characters are a good way to get to know them.

Novel Length Ideas I'm Working On!

So now that I know how to plan my stories, I'm planning them!

I bought some of those clear folders that you can just slip your papers through to organize everything and I have a folder for each.

I've had many, many, many stories over the years, but these are the ones I've decided to focus on.

Not Another Paranormal Romance

Loved the idea for this one and really want to continue with it. You can read the short story I wrote from this idea here, here and here!

Diary of an Ex-Witch

A recent idea (like a week old or so) Was definitely inspired by reading the Bible and understanding a few things about GOD a bit better.

Time Warp/ Rewind

Name is pending. This is an idea I had when I was 17 and I absolutely HAVE to write this! Especially since I've gotten so many new ideas for it! It will be about two 3rd formers (13 to 14-year-olds) who mysteriously travel back in time to the week before they were cruelly pranked by their peers.

K.I.D.S

This was a story idea from when I was 15, heavily inspired by my favourite series at the time, N.E.R.D.S by Michael Buckley (I still have and read all the books to this day!)

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This story grew in originality as I got older and it went from being about exceptional kid spies (veeeerrrry similar to N.E.R.D.S) to regular kids unintentionally caught up in the secrets and drama of the hidden. I'm still working on organising my thoughts for this one, especially since I plan for it to be a trilogy.

I do plan to work on some short stories, both to share with you and to exercise my writing muscles. I may also share some snippets of writings based on these novel-length ideas. I find that writing shorts featuring your characters are a good way to get to know them.

Getting Back Into Writing

I took a creative writing course in 2022 with my local university, because I wanted to get back into writing. I used to write every day when I was in secondary school and gave up the habit after graduating and getting busier with life.

Taking the course was a great decision! Our tutor was really cool and he gave us great tools when it came to planning out our stories. I tended to be all over the place with my planning and always got stuck.

These are the three stories that I wrote for my final assignment. I wrote part of one on my phone while waiting to take my picture for my new I.D. card, I wrote the other from a sliver of an idea that just blossomed flawlessly and the last was a story idea I had since I was 15 years old and was never able to get down on paper. I typed the bare bones into a document at 2 am and perfected it later in the day after getting some sleep.

Not Another Paranormal Romance

Shades of Violet

An 'Angel' Passing Through

I would love to hear your thoughts on them!

You can also read my stuff on my:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

Not Another Paranormal Romance- Artwork 6

You can read my short story 'Not Another Paranormal Romance' here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

Tumblr Post

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I had another idea for the cover, style-wise. I was thinking of clean, detailed line art with flat colour (possibly pastels or desaturated).

I love this sketch so much. I did this when I was still struggling to draw character art that I was happy with and is one of the few good pieces from that period.

I decided for Gabriella's pose to have her leaning towards Noah. The arm near Cyrus is held up as if she's carrying a shield. She's shielding herself from him (it) and leaning towards Noah as he's going to be a big help to her against Cyrus ( I love coming up with the hows and whys for what I do!)

I think I might stick with the more cartoony illustration though. I have been developing a more cartoony style for my other stories and I prefer drawing in that style overall.

Art post #1 || Art post #2 || Art post #3 || Art post #4 ||

Art post #5 || Here

Not Another Paranormal Romance-Artwork 5

You can read my short story 'Not Another Paranormal Romance' here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

Tumblr Post

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The first sketch is what gave me the idea for the name of this story, though I may change the name in the future as I'm not sure if the fake romance will be a large part of this story.

What better way for a demon to mess with a teenage girl than to 'fall in love' with her? This time, SHE doesn't fall for it. She KNOWS he's a creature of darkness and is immune to his charm.

The last two are more cover art ideas. I wanted to add Noah to the possible cover and keeping with the idea of it looking like a cute romance cover, I made it look as if she has to choose between the boys (well, the one boy and the demon pretending to be a boy)

The boys mirror each other for that balanced look and to show off their intentions. Noah has a Bible and Cyrus has a deformed heart. Gabriella's pose is a work-in-progress. I'm not sure yet how she's going to stand.

Art post #1 || Art post #2 || Art post #3 || Art post #4 ||

Here || Art post #6

Not Another Paranormal Romance- Artwork 4

You can read my short story 'Not Another Paranormal Romance' here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

Tumblr Post

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Here are some finalised drawings of all of the main and supporting characters.

Below the picture, I will list them from the top left to the bottom right.

Cyrus Hinds/The demon- In the first sketch, I made it look more like a 14-year-old boy, more human and with a softer face. In the second sketch, I made it look more creature-like, basically how I described it in my short story. I gave it more elf-like features and a sharper face. It doesn't look like a 14-year-old boy, but that's the point.

Gabriella Pierre- Her original design featured a short afro and a flower in her hair. I wanted to be more creative with her hair and decided to give her four smaller afro puffs. I also love how her face came out. I think she looks quite cute.

Amaya Graham- Her design stayed the same. Amaya is the sweet, harmless-looking, quiet friend. I did very loosely base her off an old friend from my school days. They share large spectacles and the long hair.

Marissa Ramdin- I wanted her to be very pretty with an elegant look to her. She's the effortlessly pretty friend that everyone's a little bit jealous of. I may work on her design a bit more.

Kadiah Toussaint- I'm quite happy with how she turned out, especially her hair. Back in my school days, I used to wear my hair in small twists and I hoped to recreate that style in drawing. I think I did quite well!

Sasha Antoine (pronounced Ant-wine)- Yes, Sasha is our 'mean girl'. I based her design on how I see the current high school girls styling themselves for school. I went for that cute, YK2 look with the baby hairs.

Noah McKenzie- He's a newer character I decided to add as support and a new friend for Gabriella. He's named after Noah from the Bible (I also just think Noah is a really cute name). I wanted him to physically contrast Cyrus. A lot about him is very soft and comforting while Cyrus evokes the opposite.

All characters except Cyrus and Noah are 14 years old. They are all in their 3rd year of secondary/high school (we have 5 years of secondary school in my country)

Cyrus is masquerading as a 14-year-old and Noah is 15 and in his 4th year of secondary/high school.

Art post #1 || Art post #2 || Art post #3 || Here ||

Art post #5 || Art post #6

Not Another Paranormal Romance- Artwork 1

You can read my short story 'Not Another Paranormal Romance' here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

Tumblr Post

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These were my initial doodles of some of the characters for my story. This is how I usually start, so I can get an idea of how I want them to look. Some of them change in future artwork.

Gabriella (Denise) is the protagonist, Amaya is one of her friends, Cyrus is the demon/nephilim and Sasha, who has not been introduced yet is a minor antagonist.

Denise's name was changed to Gabriella, because the name Denise is connected to Diyonisus, a greek 'god' (more than likely one of the fallen or their offspring).

Here || Art post #2 || Art post #3 || Art post #4 ||

Art post #5 || Art post #6

Diary of an Ex-Witch- Story Idea

I have a new idea for a story.

It's going to be about a young woman who escaped from the lies of the new age and witchcraft. It was one of those random ideas that blossomed into something bigger.

I've decided to write it in a diary format. I'm now working on what exactly she would want to write about.

-How she woke up from the deception

-How she ended up sucked into the new age in the first place

-How these things have affected her relationships

-How has seeking Jesus changed her life

And many more ideas like that.

I'm also going to throw in a cult of delusional young women who think the demon lowercase g they're worshipping is actually doing them any favours. I saw this a lot on tik tok when I was on the app.

This addition is actually inspired by this witch I used to follow when I was in the new age. The demon lowercase g she 'works with' got upset with her because it didn't approve of one of the offerings and decided to drown her in her dream.

Yeah.

Backstory! Motorcycles are hard to draw.

Click for better quality, maybe? It might be blurry sorry. My camera hates me :)

More information on it if you're interested v

Enjoy!

The two brothers are Hino Ken'ichi and Hino [REDACTED], codename: "Venus".

Venus is the older brother who used to take Ken on rides and basically raised him because their parents were pretty much non-existent.

One day at about age ten, Ken'ichi and Venus' motorcycle disappears and despite all efforts, he and the vehicle can't be found, with Venus' helmet being the only thing discovered. Ken is pronounced dead, assumably having crashed or something else while trying to escape the organization.

Almost a decade passes before one day, Venus sees a older teen sat on what is definitely his old bike with another teen sat behind him. The teen (which he recognizes as Jaxon Finch, who is a junior detective from The PAIA) calls him "Hino".

And Venus knows the voice of the teen driving, it's a little grown up but he'd know it anywhere.

His brother is alive and working with the enemy.

- Hopefully that made sense, thanks for taking the time to read this whole thing -

Telling myself this every day so here's a meme

I don't usually talk about Exorcise The Gods on my blog because it's still in the early stages, but I'll probably start to talk about it and the characters more often now as I'm getting more confident with the plan!

I really want to share this story some day, even if nobody's interested. It's something I've been working on for five years now, I don't know if I'll wait to post it as a comic or just post the written chapters and make a comic. Whatever I do, I just want to get it out there eventually.

Anyway I just started planning Chapter 23, which is what prompted this... it's a little spontaneous. Have some sketches of the main character.

I love my creative writing workshop! Sometimes, though, it's hard to tell whether I'm nervous about getting critiques or shaking with excitement over it like a hunting dog stood in front of a rabbit.

A character I wrote in my short story Cowboys, Pau, is specifically only listening to bluegrass whenever music plays around him. Pau helps his community by doing odd jobs around town and cares deeply for those around him. Pau went to jail for punching a cop because he was out of line.

He's a badass cowboy of a man.

Alright, here ya go. I hope in these trying times a more heartwarming trans story can help people feel a bit better.

Word count: 4,942

Cowboys 

I woke up early on Sunday with the neighbor’s rooster and rushed down the stairs in my pajamas to make it to breakfast. Mama made good bacon, and it was worth scarfing down my share, even if she fussed at me that young ladies don’t eat that way. I never cared much when she tried to tell me about being a lady. I let her tie my hair back into two braids for school, and listened as she called me a pretty girl, but I couldn't stand much past that. I picked at my eggs, sticking my tongue out at the runny yolk spilling over my plate. Dex sat on the floor beside me, pawing at my chair until Mama stopped looking and I lowered my dish below the table to let him gobble them up. 

Papa glared at me from over his paper, his old wrinkly forehead getting all scrunched up as I tried to read the Sunday funnies and ignored him. He didn’t tell on me, he never did, only huffed before looking back down and turning the page. 

Mama took my plate and was starting to do the dishes by the time Pau came slinking down the stairs, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He scratched at his scruffy beard, and Papa gave him a mean look as he poured himself a mug of coffee. I always wondered what Papa would look like with a beard, but he laughed at me when I asked him to grow one. Mama dusted off her still-clean apron while muttering to herself about the smell of smoke spreading through the house. I grinned wide at my uncle, sitting on my knees in my chair with my hands pressed to the table to lean towards him. 

“Pau, you goin' to work today? Can I come? I can help.” 

Mama pushed on my shoulder to get me to sit back in my chair, and Dex yelped as my foot landed on his tail. I winced as he ran to Pau’s side who gave him a pat on his head, the mutt sneezing at me. Pau let out a long hum, taking a drag from his cigarette before checking the clock on the wall. Papa shook his head still looking at his paper.  

“Harley, shouldn’t you be studying?” He flipped another page, stabbing at his eggs with his fork. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of wasting the day staring at one of Papa’s history books. They were always about war and never had any of the good shootouts or bank robberies like the Westerns on television did. Papa never liked them, so Pau always watched them with me, and sometimes, when he’d blow his smoke out into the living room, he looked just like Clint Eastwood. 

Pau shrugged at me, already pulling on his boots, “We ain’t gonna take all day. It’s summer, Charlie. She’ll still have months to read all of them books.” He pointed up the stairs while reaching for his hat, “Kit, you got five minutes to get dressed, then I’m gone. Hop to it.” 

I jumped up from my chair and ran to my room as fast as I could, ducking out of the way of the hobby horse peeking through my closet. Its little brown head swiveled back and forth as I rushed to pull on my jeans and boots and grabbed my hat as I left. Mama called after me to stop running but I was already hopping into the passenger seat of Pau’s truck before I even realized she’d been speaking. 

The drive to Main Street always felt slow. I counted red cars to keep myself busy until Pau told me to think of the numbers instead of saying them.  

“Dumb kid. If you keep counting like that, you’ll start to forget your letters.” He shook his head, fussing with the radio as he waited for his light to turn green. 

I gave him a wide grin and laughed, air whistling through the gap in my front teeth. “That ain’t how it works, Pau.” 

Pau squinted at the road like he was thinking hard before he sucked on his cigarette again, letting smoke spill out his open window. “Whatever you say, Kit, you’re the brains, not me.” 

I stared at him a little longer before my mouth twitched, and I started to twiddle my thumbs. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel much like it though.” 

Pau raised one bushy brow, glancing at me before turning into the next street over. “Whatcha mean?”  

I let out a short sigh, picking at the edge of my seat, “It’s nothin’, just sometimes I don’t like bein’ smart.” The vinyl gave way under my nails, and I sat on my hands to stop them from fidgeting, “It makes people think I can handle a lot more than I can.” 

Pau took another drag before parking the car in front of Grant’s Supplies. He turned down the volume of the bluegrass song that was playing before laying his hand on my shoulder and looking at me. 

“Kit, I’ll give you a tip. People are tough on you because life is tougher. Folks just want to make sure you do good out in the real world. That's why even when things seem too hard, the best thing for you to do is to work harder and stay in school.”  

I didn’t meet his eye, instead focusing on the faded kneepads of his blue jeans. “You never went to school.” 

He gave a long sigh after that, opening the door and dropping his cigarette to stamp it out with his foot. “Point proven. Come on, we don’t have all day.” 

The door to Grant’s Supplies had a bell over it that dinged when you walked inside. Everything was made of wood, and every Sunday an elderly man who only spoke in low angry grunts and had his eyes covered by the constant furrow of his brow would come in the store to clean. I ducked past where he was sweeping behind the canned food and peeped at him through a gap in one of the aisles, holding up my fake finger pistol, and aimed for the bridge of his nose. I could practically smell the sheriff's reward of five hundred dollars for bringing this outlaw in, dead or alive. 

“Time to meet your maker,” I whispered, closing one eye and squinting, just about to fire. He must have heard me though. In the next moment, his head snapped to look at me and his eyes grew as wide as an owl’s. With a shout, I ran retreating to the counter at the front of the store where Pau stood with his hat to his chest, leaning into the blushing face of a lady with long sandy blonde hair. I rammed into his leg, sending him sideways a bit with an ‘oomph!’ but he stood to recover just as quickly as he had stumbled. The counter lady helped him up, laughing, and I stared perplexed by her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Oh goodness, are you alright?” She said, leaning across the counter and then looking at me, “Well hello there little lady.”  

I tilted my head away from her hands to squint up at her, still clinging to Pau’s leg. “I’m a cowboy.” 

Pau gained his footing again, looking a bit lost for words, and stuttered his way through an apology before turning to fuss at me. Before he could get anything out though she waved him off. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I know how it is. My niece is just the same.” She talked with her hands and Pau began to smile before she carried on, “It’s just so nice to see a father hanging out with his kid.” The smile slowly dropped from Pau’s face, a distant look on his face as he turned to look down at me staring back up at him with big round eyes. 

“She ain’t my-” he was cut off by Mrs. Grant coming around the corner, her heels clicking on the floor as she huffed. 

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in. Paul, I know you’re not flirting with another one of my cashiers.” 

I peeped up from behind Pau’s leg and Mrs. Grant’s narrowed brown eyes softened at the sight of me. “Hey, Harley honey, you helpin’ Paul today?” She slid a caramel candy over the counter, and I was quick to shove it into my mouth. 

“Yes ma’am,” I said. Pau heaved a sigh, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. 

She nodded to herself before turning to the counter lady. “That’s Charlie’s girl. Do you know Charlie?”  

The counter lady’s eyes went wide as she blushed an even deeper red, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought she was yours.”  

Mrs. Grant tapped the counter and shook her head, looking at Pau with a heaving sigh and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, you’d think that huh? You two always seem attached at the hip.” 

I lit up at the sound of that. People always thought I was Pau’s little girl. He said it was because I followed him like a lost kitten, so he called me Kit. I never saw it as a bad thing though. Pau was a good person to follow. He knew plenty about the right way to walk and how to talk himself out of trouble. I learned plenty trailing after him, even if Papa didn’t like it too much. After Pau came to live with us, Papa always mumbled about how he hadn’t been able to keep himself out of trouble since they were tots. 

“Yeah, well she’s just good help, that's all. Speaking of, I’m looking for paint. Ms. Carter needs a new coat on her fence.” Pau shrugged, and I watched as one of his hands dropped to his back pants pocket, grabbing at his cigarettes before letting it fall again. 

Mrs. Grant stopped her tapping and stared him down for a moment. It was a mean look that Pau turned away from, and I tilted my head in wonder of why. It didn’t last long as in the next moment she was turning to grab the paint buckets behind her. “White or blue?” 

Pau paid for two buckets of white paint, and then we were back in his truck. I counted blue cars this time, including his since there were fewer of them, and Pau said nothing. When I turned to look at him, he was biting his lip and had both his hands kept firm on the steering wheel. 

“I think that lady liked you, Pau,” I said, and Pau scrunched his face up tight giving a small smile. 

“Yeah, maybe so.”  

I kicked my feet, looking at my boots and the little pink lines painted into the brown leather. “Maybe you could marry her since you don’t have a wife yet.” I heard Pau scoff, “and maybe then I could come live with you two when you buy a house together.”  

Pau lit another cigarette, “Marriage ain’t that simple Kit, and I can’t buy a house.” 

I felt that he was just being difficult, but didn’t go on, instead I watched the cop car that came crawling up beside us at a stoplight. It sat lower than Pau’s truck, and the officer driving it turned to glare at us through the window. His nose looked crooked. I turned to Pau, my grin sharp but hesitated to say anything as Pau kept his gaze straight. He pressed himself against his seat, and the muscles on his hairy arms tensed where he was squeezing the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped it. I tilted my head a bit, trying to make sense of the funny way Pau’s eye twitched. 

“Does he know you Pau?” I said, trying my best not to whip around and glare right back at the cop. Pau’s cheeks turned a little red, and he moved his head just enough that I couldn’t see his eyes. 

“Don’t stare Kit. A cowboy has to mind the sheriff.” 

I said nothing, leaning back into my seat just like him until the light turned green and the cop passed by us. As we drove, Ms. Carter’s house and her faded fence appeared around the bend. She was sitting on her porch with a pitcher of lemonade when we hopped out of Pau’s truck. Pau waltzed up to her front steps and I followed behind him, trying to fit into the boot prints he left in the dirt path.  

Ms. Carter filled two glasses and nearly let mine overflow as she giggled over every word that tumbled out of Pau’s mouth, slapping at his arm. I rolled my eyes as she made some comment on liking men rugged, carrying the paint buckets and brushes toward the fence at the end of her front yard. Pau joined me after I’d already painted four posts and I looked at him with a bit of judgment, “She likes you too.” 

He shook his head, “She likes anyone who will talk to her.” He dipped his paintbrush into the bucket twice before swiping it over the fence. Before I could say anything, he was covering my mouth with his free hand, “I ain’t gonna marry her, so don’t bring it up.”  

I almost spit on his hand when he pulled it away, “I wasn’t going to say you should.” I swiped at another post, giving it a funny face before covering it up, “I just think maybe if you had a wife, she could tell Mrs. Grant to stop looking at you so mean.”  

He breathed out smoke and leaned back to look up at the sky like Mama did when she was praying, “There ain’t a woman in the whole damn world who would make Mrs. Grant stop looking at me like that.” 

I painted a stripe across three posts, my lips pursed into a thin line. “Why not Pau?” 

“Because it ain’t about the women. It's just me she doesn’t like,” he said. 

I threw down my brush, kicking at the fence post, “Well that ain’t fair.” He shook his head at me, and I almost kicked him too before I thought better of it. 

“No, Kit, it is.” He paid me no mind, dipping his brush again, “We can’t control how people think of us. We just gotta learn to accept it.” 

“Well, I think that's dumb.” I stuck out my tongue and picked at the grass below me, throwing it up into the air. Pau never did anything to wrong people. He would go out of his way to mow their yards or paint their fences. Mrs. Grant just didn’t know him that well, if she did, she’d see why he deserved her caramel candies too. “You’re good Pau, a real cowboy.” 

He laughed a little, though it sounded strained, and tipped his hat down to cover his eyes. “You’re a dumb kid,” he said, putting down his brush and wiping some sweat off the back of his neck, “But thanks.” 

We finished the fence by the time the sun was beginning to set, and Ms. Carter giggled and swatted playfully at Pau’s arms for an eternity before she paid him. When we made it back to the truck, Pau rubbed at his shoulder where she had managed to smack him with one of her bangle bracelets. 

“You should check for bruises” 

He gave me a look but still rolled up his sleeve, “Hush up.” 

When we made it back home, the earth had turned golden, and I ran through the grass of the front yard before Dex tackled me to the ground, sniffing all along my arms and shirt as I erupted into a fit of laughter. Pau came to lay beside us, his hat placed on his chest. I stared up at the clouds, taking in their sweeping hills that laid out like mountains across our flat horizon like in the movies. 

I let out a whistle, something I had been practicing for weeks now, and Pau gave me a hum of agreement, though he didn’t smile like usual.  

“One day I’m going to head out there, and I’m going to have a ranch, and you can come live on it with me,” I said, and Pau sighed, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. 

“I have to tell you something, Kit.” He said. 

I sat up beside him, combing away at some of the grass that had managed to get stuck in my hair.  

“What's wrong Pau?” 

He had this strange look on his face again, like he was far from me, and unable to draw himself back in. I watched him squint at the sun before he looked at me, the crow's feet by his eyes still showing like he was looking at something bright. 

“I have to,” he paused, his mouth still hanging open for a moment as he took in the tilt of my head, “I’m heading west. I’m gonna go find one of those big cattle ranches you’re always talkin’ about.”  

My eyes got big, and I jumped up to my knees to shake him by the shoulders, “Pau! You have to take me with you.” I said, begging with my fingers laced together. 

He shook his head softly, putting one of his rough hands on top of mine, “No Kit. You can’t come.” 

I felt a deep pain in my chest, stinging enough that I ripped my hands away to wrap around my middle. 

“Why not?” I said, soft and cracking as he gazed down at me. He rubbed at the back of his neck; his eyebrows knitted together. 

“It’s complicated. You have to stay here, with your ma and pa.” He tried to meet my eyes again, but I was too busy picking grass out of the ground, ruthless in my attack. 

“Kit, you won’t have a life if you come with me. You stay here, you’ll get to go to school, get a nice comfy job, and grow up to be someone you should be.” He sounded like Papa, and I never hated Pau more. I tried to plug my ears so he would go away, but he grabbed at my arms. 

“No, you can’t go. It isn’t fair!” I shook my head back and forth, kicking my feet as he just rubbed up and down my arms to calm me down. I wouldn’t. I refused to stop my fit even though I knew it wasn’t helping. The second he let go of me, I knew in my bones he would disappear, so I just kept yelling until his patience ran thin. “I can help. I can be a cowboy. You can teach me.” 

“Kit stop. No one needs me here; your daddy asked me to leave so I’m going.” He grabbed me tight and shook me. I went still in his arms, “I’m going kid, it’s already been decided.”  

“I need you,” I said, my voice soft and my throat tight. The sun felt like it was burning into me, and I wanted to let it, so I could have an excuse as to why I wanted to shrivel up into Pau’s lap and have him hold me. He softened his grip, sighing, and looking down to where Dex lay next to us whining.  

“No, you don’t.” He shook his head. 

“But if you leave I can’t-” 

“I ain’t your daddy, Kit.” He said with finality, and my heart felt cold and alone, “You have one. He's a good man. Don't you ever say he ain’t because I was raised with him, and I’ll know you’re lying. He’s already gotten me out of enough messes to make up a lifetime.”  

I shook my head again, looking down, “He isn’t you Pau.” 

Pau let go of me, grabbing his cigarettes from his back pocket and shoving them in my face.  

“You see these?” He shoved them closer, and I bit at the inside of my cheek to stop myself from snapping back at him 

“You think these are good? Do you think any of the things I do are things I wanna see you do?”  

It was a pretty box, the red always peeking out the top of Pau’s jeans. He took out one of the cigarettes, almost crushing it in his hand. 

“This, this is shit.” He threw it down and stood up to crush it under his boot. He looked giant, and unforgiving, like Papa when he had found out I had broken one of his old globes playing sheriff.  

My nose started to feel runny, and the tight funny feeling in my throat bubbled up until I could feel myself choking on it. The sight of him made my stomach feel hollow, and I ran away before he could say anything else.  

He called after me, but I didn’t listen, crashing through the screen door right into Papa’s arms. He stood shocked as I cried into his crisp white shirt, hitting his sides. The fabric scratched at my face, and my tears left it stained and ugly, but he didn’t push me away, so I stayed. 

“Harley, what has gotten into you?” He said it lightly, one of his hands placed softly on my back. It felt awkward, and he didn’t hold me closer than he had to. He looked around the room, and I knew it was for Mama. I butted my head against his stomach, and he furrowed his brow as he looked down at me. I glared right back, and he sighed, a tired look pulling at his face that made me want to scream. 

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up, your mother is making chicken tonight, maybe you could help her?” I detached myself from him before I could start yelling, running up the stairs to hide in my room.  

I sat huddled up in bed, the quilt Mama had made me drawn around my shoulders until the sun had fully set, and I could see the moon peeking up behind the trees through my window. I opened it to hear the crickets sing and leaned out to feel the warm summer air pass over me. Mama had called me to dinner almost an hour before, but I couldn’t bring myself to travel back downstairs. Pau would be there, picking his teeth clean of chicken and grunting his way through Papa’s questions. They would fight, and I knew this because they always fought, and I would be stuck in the middle of it, trying to defend Pau from any of the nasty names Papa called him. For the first time, I didn’t want to defend him. 

As I began to count the stars starting to dot the sky, I heard the muffled shouts echoing from downstairs. There was a clattering of plates, and as I sunk to the floor to press my ear up against my rug, I could hear Papa from below. 

“-No work for you here! I’ve tried Paul, I’ve always tried to help you, but you haven’t made it easy. Now you’re filling Harley’s head with these delusions-”  

I listened to Pau grumble something, the first part hard to make out until he started to get louder. 

“-Not a damn charity case Charlie, I don’t need it, and don’t you bring the kid into this. This ain’t her mess.”  

Their voices both came and went, in and out, growing louder and softer until there was a large clattering of plates, loud enough I could hear a glass break and mama let out a shout. It was quiet for a moment after, the entire house falling still. I listened as a chair shoved back and his footsteps stomped as Pau grumbled out a response. The screen door slammed open and shut, and as the smell of smoke began to travel up through the window, I shut it as quickly as I could. It felt too late though, my eyes were already watering, and as much as I tried to blink them away, stubborn little tears managed to escape me. I called them shit.  

I must have stood there for ages, staring out my window and crying, because by the time I came back to myself the moon had risen above the trees. There was a knock at my door, and instead of spitting and cussing every nasty word I knew, I moved to slide down against it and knock back, too tired to do much else. 

“Hey, Kit.”  

“Hi, Pau.” I wanted to call him shit. I crossed my arms across my chest and felt as he slumped against the door on the other side to sit beside me. 

“Did Papa tell you that you have to leave tonight?” I looked down at the streaks of light from the hallway that wrapped around his shadow and stretched across my floor. 

“He warned me about a month ago. He just tried to give me money,” he said. 

“Oh. Did you take it?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” I wanted to curse him, tell him he was dumb, and have him get angry with me so I could have an excuse to do so. I couldn’t bring myself to. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving sooner,” he paused for a moment, I heard his head rest against the door with a small thud, “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

My chest felt tight, and I pulled down my hat to cover my eyes. I didn’t say anything, not trusting my voice. The door’s white paint was chipped at the bottom, and I picked at it until Pau knocked again. 

“You still there kid?” 

I brought my knees to my chest, hugged them tightly, and closed my eyes shut. 

“I could be a good cowboy Pau,” I sounded so shaky and small, like Dex when Mama yelled at him for doing something bad, “I am one.” 

Pau didn’t say anything back for a while, but I could hear him bump his head again, and I wondered if he felt as small as I did. “I know you are, Kit. You’re better than me,” he said, speaking softly but the crackly sound in his throat still broke up his words so he sounded like one of Papa’s scratched records. I never wanted to sound like that. “You have to give these things time, though. One day when you’re older, you’ll still be walking around in your boots, and you’ll be better than all of us at whatever you decide to do with your life.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and fighting against every angry bone in my body, I opened the door. 

He had to tilt his head up a little to look me in the eyes from where he was still sat on the ground. It was like he was just seeing something for the first time. His eyes were a little watery, and they squinted up at me like I was a stranger, but there must have been something he recognized because he grinned wide, and I was pulled down into his arms. 

I let him tug me down and rested my head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. It thundered like the sound of horses.  

“You’re a good man, Pau. Mama and Papa are lying.” I said.  

He nodded his head and rocked me in his lap. It wasn’t easy as I was getting taller and my legs stuck out a bit too much to be comfortable, but his arms still cradled around me like I was precious. 

“You are too, Kit.” 

After he gathered all his things from his room and shoved them into little boxes and bags, I walked him outside. I carried his duffle bag across the yard, and he pretended not to notice as I struggled a bit to get down the front steps. By the time I made it to his car, he had already thrown everything else inside. He took the last bag and threw it in his front seat, dusting off his hands after. I copied him, pretending not to hear him snort.  

“Guess this is it, huh kid?” 

I looked up to where he stood, hands on his hips and his head facing towards the open road. 

“Yeah, for now. I’ll see you again though.” I said, shrugging and wiping my still runny nose. 

“That so?” 

“Yeah, when I get a car, I’ll drive out west until I find you.” 

He looked down at me, his eyes going all soft, “Not gonna give up on me?” 

I shook my head, grinning up at him, “Nah, you need someone looking out for you.” 

He gave a big whooping laugh, his head shooting back. I laughed with him, so hard that I had to brace my hands on my thighs to keep myself from falling forwards. Pau pulled himself together after a while, sliding into his front seat with a hopeful spark in his eye. 

“I’ll send you a postcard once I find somewhere to settle down, then maybe, when you get that car, you won’t have to just wander around for too long.” He said, fiddling with the radio until bluegrass began to belt out of his truck. 

“Okay Pau, don’t forget.” 

He tipped his hat to me as the truck started up. 

“I won’t.” 

He drove away after that, and I held my hand up to reach for his car until he disappeared down the street, the light from his headlights fading into the night sky above. 

Does anyone want to read a short story about a trans kid at the age where you don't have a word for what you are yet, or really a full idea of what you are, but you know what you want to be so you cling to it and the people around you that represent it?

Because I wrote something like that! It's called Cowboys (or Good Men, but we won't get into that whole story), and it's about a kid named Kit who wants nothing more than to be a cowboy like 'her' uncle Pau! It's a small slice of life/coming of age story that showcases the unconditional love of a family's two misfits, alongside subtly highlighting a less talked about stage of growing up transgender in the south.

If anyone is interested in reading it, please let me know, and I'll reblog it through this post 👍

Saving this for later 👍

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Feel free to adapt and expand upon this template!

Normal is a memory

Normal is a memory, but time moves so slow, so much like it always has, that no one notices.

No one notices that we don't talk about jam anymore, or how beautiful your dress is.

Because have you seen the news? There are war crimes, beloved.

Your dress? The price of weeks of food thirty years ago

And it tastes like small hands working sowing machines.

The jam? No one has time for home mades anymore, my dear. There are tears to be swallowed.

I wonder if there ever was a normalcy, with Sunday brunches and sadness, not depression. Or if it was always a memory.

Always just a few generations out of our reach.

See, I was wrong.

We do notice.

Hope has dirt under her fingernails

Hope has dirt under her fingernails. Her broken foot trembles beneath her as she stands up, reading herself for another punch.

Faith clutches the rim of the sink, breath fogging up the mirror. Then she takes her meds and closes the door behind her.

Perseverance hands bribes to cops and takes the first cleaning job she gets, eyes averted as she gets slapped for tardiness.

Selflessness shivers on her bedroom floor, the memory of loosing a patient on the operation table replaying behind her eyelids again.

Love sits in the visitors hall of the hospital, waiting to replace the wilted flowers beside the coma patient.

Passion only leaves the house to go to therapy, the world too painful to look at for long.

Strength looks at the others and decides to make a home in their hearts.