Everlasting Guilt

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Happy Thursday!

Today’s piece comes from the #ThursThreads prompt series.

Prompt: “You aren’t insane.”

~~~

“You aren’t insane.”

But I’m not sure that’s entirely true. The doubt looking back at me from the mirror only makes it worse. Behind my reflection, Nate is still on the couch in the other room, sleeping as his body continues to adjust to the serum. Deep down I know I gave it to him to save his life. At least, I keep telling myself that. It has to be the reason, right? Not because I was curious about what could happen – not because I still share my father’s insane ideas.

“Selah?” His voice is weak, as he struggles his way back to consciousness.

“I’m here.” Returning to his side, I push thoughts of my guilt away – I can deal with those later – and refocus on him. “Let yourself sleep. We can’t stay here for long and my other safe house is more than a day’s trip away.”

He reaches out, his face contorting in pain at the effort it takes him to move. Of course it hurts – I can’t imagine a DNA rewrite being pleasant. Despite that, his hand makes it to mine and squeezes.

“Stay.” He barely manages the word. Does he think I’ll leave him behind? Though his voice is faint, his grip is strong, unyielding. “Rest.”

Even through the haze of sleep, I make out a single emotion in his eyes – worry. If only to make sure he goes back to sleep, I sit on the floor by the couch, his hand still in mine.

“Okay.”

~~~

Be sure to check out the rest of the responses at the prompt!

As always, think happy thoughts!

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Consequences

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I’ll keep this short and sweet.

It’s a miracle I’ve actually typed something up today! Didn’t think I’d participate two weeks in a row, but here we are!

Prompt: “I think we pushed too far.”

It’s also a continuation of last week’s piece! I think I’ll be making a new category for it so I’ll group the posts together and treat it as another serial. Not yet, though. Need to settle into this story a bit more before I make that commitment. Enjoy!


I still can’t believe I managed to get him back to my bunker. Watching Nate lie on the couch, his body numb while the serum works, I can’t help but offer up a silent prayer of gratitude. Still, we aren’t out of the fire yet and it’s only a matter of time before our location is compromised.

“I think we pushed too far.” Though his body has all but shut down to recover, he can still speak, and follows my pacing with his eyes.

“You don’t say.”

“I mean, we shouldn’t have risked you being in the lab, Selah.” When I look at him again, his eyes aren’t on me anymore, but on the ceiling. “Maybe given it a few more days.”

“While you might be right, what would have happened tonight if you’d been alone? Or if no one had been there to grab a sample?” The vial, half empty after using some on Nate, is heavy in my hand, its contents looking innocent enough. Does the company know someone would try to steal it? Well, someone other than me.

Does my father know?

“For all we know, that was a reaction to you being there.” At his words and the sight of him, immobile after only an hour ago being at death’s door, guilt settles in my chest.

“Maybe.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“No. But it’s my fault you were shot. My fault you took the serum.” And whatever happens to him as a result is on me, too.


Be sure to check out the rest of the responses at the prompt!

As always, think happy thoughts!

A new serial? Maybe

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Hello!

It’s been more than a while since I’ve poked around in here. In the time I’ve been MIA, things at work have gotten a bit crazy, my extracurriculars have gotten away from me, and I’ve taken up yoga! I’ve also been working on editing Secondhand Soul and continuing my rewrite of A Vampire’s Bride (still trying to come up with a new title for that one, too).

I keep meaning to at least do a prompt a week, but it just isn’t happening. So I’ll do them when I can. Thus, here I am!

A few of the recent prompt responses I’ve done have revolved around Selah and Nate, and a thing tentatively titled The Flamel Project. This is something that I’ve had on the back burner for a very long time – we’re talking years. It’s more sci-fi than fantasy, so definitely not my strong suit, hence why I haven’t worked on it. But it’s an idea that’s starting to take more and more of my attention, so I think I’ll work on it like I did on my other serials. Update when I can, and eventually I’ll have something akin to a draft.

And so here’s a snippet from that, courtesy of this week’s #ThursThreads prompt.

Prompt: “It can’t be too late.”

Continue reading

The struggle is real…but here we are.

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Sup!

I’ve been a bad kid and haven’t written anything in what feels like ages. The new year has not been kind to my motivation or work ethic, so I’m slowly getting back into it. I told myself I would participate in #ThursThreads again, so I figured this was a good jumping start. Now that my serials are kind of in limbo, though, I won’t be using those for prompts – I’m just going to write willy-nilly. Maybe this is the start of a new one. We’ll see where the prompts take us.

Prompt: “You should come with a warning sound.”

The piece below is a continuation (kinda) of this one I wrote a while back.

Enjoy!


When Nate offered to help, I wasn’t sure he meant it. Now that we’re meeting for the first time since our arrangement, I only half-expect him to show. But when I round the corner of the parking garage, I spot his car at the end of the aisle. Nate leans casually against the hood, looking at his phone. Still, it could be a trap. He could have alerted my father, so I’m careful, ready my gun, and stick to the shadows, doing my best to stay quiet.

It’s midnight and dead in the parking garage – the tiniest sound would be deafening.

I come up behind him, but he doesn’t move. When I clear my throat, he nearly drops his phone. The sight of him fumbling to catch it would have made me laugh if our lives weren’t in danger.

“Christ, Selah – you should come with a warning sound.” He catches his phone before it meets the ground. “How long have you-?”

“That was my warning sound. And long enough to think this was a mistake.” I re-holster the gun and cross my arms.

“What? No – I said I’d help, so I will.” He pockets the phone. “I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s a plea in his eyes – he’s scared, but that fear makes him sincere.

I sigh. “Fine. What do you have for me?”

He walks around the car to open the trunk before reaching inside. The file he hands me is thicker than I expected.

“Enough to get us started.”


Be sure to check out the other stories!

As always, think happy thoughts 🙂

 

 

Menace – a return to #ThursThreads

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I live!

Sort of. Like last year, I’m participating in NaNoWriMo. My writing habits in general have also changed which means less will pop up here and more will happen behind the scenes. Alas, such is life when I have trouble keeping up with everything I want to do. Still, every once in a while I’ll throw something up here and today is one of those times!

But first, a few announcements.

If you haven’t read my serials yet, but you want to, now’s a good time. They’ll be coming down soon as I get their rewrites done. A Vampire’s Bride is four hand-written chapters in and Secondhand Soul is my NaNoWriMo project. These’ll be the first to go down as I try to make them something more. You’ve been warned!

Like I mentioned above, I’ve been doing some by-hand writing. This means stuff that won’t see the light of day for a long time. I think I’ve succeeded in what I set out to do when I started putting snippets up here. I’ve got work to do on the writing that exists on here, but if I keep holding myself to having to post it here, I don’t think I’ll ever get it done. Thus, you won’t be seeing much of my writing on here outside of what’s already there. I do want to eventually return to book reviews and movie/show commentary here, but that won’t be for a while.

Onto today’s piece!

Prompt: “I’m a danger.

~~~

Is it bad I enjoy the feeling of bones breaking against my fist? It’s as satisfying as stepping on a particularly crunchy leaf. I don’t tell Max that – they would disapprove, despite their support of my newfound love for vigilante justice.

I drop the latest scumbag to the cement, releasing him from the collar of his shirt. Somewhere down the alleyway, his victim’s hurried footsteps echo as she struggles to run away. She hasn’t noticed he’s no longer chasing her, but I don’t bother to let her know. Max, like always, will take care of it and make sure she’s okay. When they show up a few minutes later, it’s after they’ve seen to the younger girl. Unlike the first girls I saved, this was just a kid – no older than maybe fourteen.

Max brought her back in their arms, unconscious.

“She fainted at the end of the alleyway when she realized it was a dead end. I don’t think she saw you.”

“She didn’t.” I kicked the guy on the ground, turning him over. “She was too scared of this asshole.”

Max grimaces at the state of the man’s face. It’s hardly recognizable after I got done with it. A broken nose, some missing teeth, and eyes so swollen they were shut and would be for a long time. I couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re a menace.” But they smile, too. Never thought I’d see an angel smiling at violence.

“I’m a danger only to jerks like this one.”

~~~

And so that’s how Paola spends her time now – kicking ass and taking names.

As always, think happy thoughts!

Broken

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Sup!

Yet again I skipped a day, but in my defense I did get writing done, just not here. This whole writing by hand thing is working out pretty nicely so far, so in the next few weeks I’ll probably be taking down A Vampire’s Bride, since that’s the one I’m working on. It’ll probably come back out as a novella, eventually.

But anyway, on to today’s writing! Today’s prompt comes from Riley Liley on Tumblr. They came up with a super long list of angst-themed prompts, and I’m going with number six.

Prompt: “I’m just a little bit broken.”

And because Paola is all about the angst right now, this prompt goes to Provisional Freedom.

~~~

I’m still stewing in my annoyance when Max shows up in our room. To their credit, they wait for me to speak before continuing to reprimand me.

“What did you do with him?”

“Made sure he wouldn’t die from his wounds, wiped his memory except for the attack, and put in an anonymous tip at the police station. Didn’t leave until he got picked up by the cops.” They sit on their side of the room, eyes cautious. “What were you thinking, Paola?”

“I wasn’t. Obviously.”

“You should have known better than to expose yourself like that. What if there was another angel nearby? Or a demon?” Despite their words, their tone is soft. Max is trying to be careful with me, but I’m having any of it.

“If you think I regret stepping in you’re out of your mind. I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.” Containing my anger gets harder by the second but I manage. “I’m sure I could take on an angel or two if I had to.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Where’s your sense of self preservation?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you broke it when you made me immortal!” I don’t mean to raise my voice, don’t mean to lash out so harshly. They flinch at my words, and I continue, “Maybe I’m just a little bit broken…”

“Paola…I…”

“There’s no point in apologizing. Again. There’s nothing you can do to fix it, or me. I need to come to terms with that.” The outburst made me tired, and now it’s all I can do not to let the exhaustion overwhelm me. “I’m not okay right now. But I will be. I just need you to let me deal with this on my terms.” When I look at them again, Max looks like they’re seeing me for the first time.

“Okay.” They stand before walking across the room and placing a hand on mine. “If you’re going to do this – make use of your immortality this way – I can’t stop you. But let me help you. Even if that just means covering your tracks.”

For the first time in a while, I feel a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

~~~

Max, sidekick vigilante. Maybe. That’s where this seems to be going, so we’ll see!

As always, think happy thoughts!

Finding Purpose

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Happy Monday!

So my posting has been sporadic again. I really am trying to post every day, but that proves harder and harder the more I try. On the bright side, I have been working on A Vampire’s Bride outside of here. I’m trying a new approach! Rather than try to type out the story from the start, I’m writing it by hand. This way I don’t have to be in front of a computer screen all the time. So far so good, so we’ll see how it goes.

Today’s prompt comes from Let Me Help You Write on Tumblr and will go toward Provisional Freedom‘s word count!

Enjoy!

CW: Assault, violence, and some language.

~~~

Although Marcus said I’m still welcome at the house, I’ve been trying not to rely on him and Videl as much. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, and to be honest, knowing what I know now, it makes me uncomfortable to be there. So that’s how I now find myself wandering around on my own, one of the few times Max’s attention is elsewhere. They don’t usually tell me where they go when they’re not with me, but on this particular occasion they mentioned something about having to check on another charge.

The city at night is a completely different beast. Urban exploration was never my thing, but now that I have all this time to kill, I’ve had to get creative with my past times. It never occurred to me that I might not be the only one out at three in the morning. Turns out, the night life is much more active than I anticipated. Still, even if I’d expected this level of activity, nothing could have prepared me for an attempted mugging. Not against me, mind you.

The victims in question are a couple of women, probably a few years older than me. Going by their clothes and smudged makeup, they were likely headed home from a night of dancing and general fun, until some asshole in a mask decided they made easy targets. Scared, and probably still a little drunk, they’re incoherent but it’s obvious they’re scared out of their minds. One of them shakily tries to hand over her bag. When the asshole doesn’t take the bag and instead tries to approach them, gun in hand, I have a whole new understanding of what’s happening.

My blood boils, and before I know it, I’m walking over.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” I’m sure I’m the farthest thing from an imposing figure, but my words make the man stop anyway. The mask doesn’t hide his eyes, and I can see a momentary lapse of fear and confusion. And then he realizes he’s talking to a girl who’s five-foot-nothing.

“Stay back! I have a gun.” He points it at me.

“Oh, what, are you going to shoot me?” Behind him, the women are on the ground, shaking.

“You sound awfully sarcastic for a person with a gun pointed at them.”

“Well what can I say? You don’t scare me.” I shrug, keeping my eye on the women. As I keep the man’s attention, I motion for them to get out of his reach. Though they’re both scared out of their wits, one of them manages to pull the other up before running together behind a dumpster. I’m so focused on them, I almost don’t hear the gunshot.

I’ve never been shot before, so I’m not sure what I expected. It’s not painless, per say, but doesn’t hurt nearly as much as a gunshot should. When I look down, there’s a hole in my sweater, but no blood. “This is my favorite hoodie, asshole!”

He fires again, making yet another hole. At this point, I don’t even bother sitting still. Walking toward him, I clench my fists, ready to knock his teeth down his throat. He empties his gun, and in a desperate play to get me to stop, he throws it at me. I almost laugh before my foot meets his groin. When he doubles over, I back hand him, his blood spraying the concrete.

I didn’t realize how much I’d pent up my anger and frustrations until I started wailing on him. When I stop, it’s only because Max shows up.

“I think that’s enough, Paola.”

“Bastard deserves to die.” But I do as they say and stop, taking two steps back to admire my handiwork. He’s trembling, muttering something about how sorry he is.

“Be that as it may, you don’t need his blood on your hands.”

“Ha! Too late.” My knuckles drip with it. I look over at Max as they kneel down by the women. I let them handle it, considering I’m probably a bit more terrifying than the man with the gun had been. I watch a Max places a hand over their foreheads, and both faint into their arms. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping their memories and taking them home. We don’t need rumors about a bullet proof girl running around. Stay here, I’ll be right back to deal with him.” And with that, they’re gone. As much as I don’t feel like sitting around, I stay.

When Max returns, it’s with reprimands at the ready. “That was reckless.”

“As reckless as pulling a tainted soul from Purgatory?” I wipe my hands on my ruined hoodie.

“Paola…”

“What? At least I helped someone. Would it have been better to let it happen?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing. I helped those women, and I felt good doing it. Maybe I should do it more often. Put this immortality to good use. Punish scum like him.”

“What you should do is get some sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Their words had a tone of finality, and I was tired of arguing with them anyway.

“Fine.”

~~~

Paola, vigilante extraordinaire? Maybe!

As always, think happy thoughts!