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The dark alley was thickly lined with shadows, which seemed to ooze from the aged brick walls surrounding. A malevolent presence filled the air with a foreshadowing of the events soon to unfold, leaving those who happened to pass by with a cold chill that sneaked down the back of their necks. Most paid no heed to this feeling other than walking a tad bit quicker past, yet I alone pause to look into the depths of the seemingly black abyss. I am used to darkness, for it has haunted me since birth. A cold clammy hand trailed its fingers down my back, but I have learned that to show fear was to give the Lurker power.


For those of you who don’t know the Lurker, they can become the biggest pain (and this is speaking from experience). It’s big, it’s constantly breathing over your shoulder, you can’t pull off its hood, and you can’t see its face. If you talk to it, it doesn’t reply. If you tell it to go away, it comes closer. It never leaves you alone. To sum the Lurker up; it’s hulky, overbearing, and makes you feel very uncomfortable.


Don’t get me wrong, the Lurker isn’t evil or anything from what I can tell. It’s just…there…all the time. Watching you... except you can’t watch back. To tell the truth it’s been my only constant companion. For one thing it always listens to what I have to say, almost like a living, breathing diary. Name one human that can keep all your secrets and never judge you for them. Coming up with a blank? I don’t blame you, I’m just lucky that way I guess.


Lurker is the only animate being that I don’t feel the need to lie to. I love to lie, for some reason it gives me this sadistic pleasure and makes me feel great. People hesitate to trust me, and in doing this they show me how truly weak they are. The one thing I truly hate is weakness, so I feel no guilt when I destroy their reluctantly given trust. The mind is a powerful weapon, you can turn it in on itself, torture it until nothing but madness remains. I feel joy at being able to so easily torture their feeble minds. I felt so different before I learned what I really was, like an outsider always loving to see people grieve. A demon: a heartless, merciless demon, or at least half. I left my family, who I had lied to my whole life, and who never truly loved me as their child.



Remember when I said darkness haunts me, well I wasn’t exaggerating. Strange creatures tend to pop up when I’m around. Something evil lingers in the shadows of this alley, and I am determined to find out what it is. I step into the comfort of the shadows and vaguely notice the disapproval that practically radiates off Lurker.


“I’ll be fine,” I assured it, “It's not as if anything bad ever happens.”


As I say this I step further into the alley, towards the source of the scraping and grinding. The sounds of an injured animal reached my ear and I grasped towards it like the idiot I am. Immediately I am flung backwards by an unseen force. My head hit the unforgiving stone wall and an answering headache began in the back of my skull.



Grudgingly I arose to glare at the creature which had come out of its hiding spot. It was a giant bear that towered over me at ten feet tall, but when it reared up upon its hind legs, it dwarfed me at fifteen feet. Its teeth were larger than a normal bear’s too, the fangs extending into long, piercing tusks. The eyes, which at first contained never ending black pools of rage, turned to a bright red that matched the distinct markings on its fur. A twinkle of wisdom shone in their bottomless depths, showing that it was capable of reason and emotion. At the moment though pride and cruelty were all that was being expressed the claws were retractable, but now were twice the size of my hand. Its tail was brushy and roughly the length of a wolf’s, but with much longer fur.


It roared a cry that belonged only to the wild beasts of this world, its mouth opening to a truly ungodly width, allowing it to fit up to three human head inside at a time and its bite strength enough to completely crush all three said heads in one bite. Drool oozed out of its maw dripping onto the dirt below with an acidic sizzle as it ate into the ground.


“Having trouble there Josephine?” a lilting British accent right behind me caused me to jump in surprise and then the person had the audacity to put their arm around mine!


I gritted my teeth to bite back a rude response. “Nothing I can’t handle Samuel. Did you forget when I mentioned that kick to the groin you’ll be receiving if you touched me again?”


He chuckled at my response. “A good listener is usually thinking about something else while the other person is talking. So if you need to talk I will pretend to listen”


“Any part of you that touches me you’re not getting back. The fact that I haven‘t maimed you horribly is celebration enough,” I all but growled in frustration.


Samuel looked back at me with an all too mischievous glance, “Sure. Sure. That’s a great idea! I was just going to recommend throwing ourselves off the nearest cliff and saving this thing the trouble of killing us, but you’re on spot with that one!”


Samuel Rivaon, a young businessman who had inherited his family’s fortune at a very young age, dabbling in dark magic, specifically necromancy. He has very high ambitions in politics, none of which are gained by honest means, and he is not one to let people cross him. His favorite method of battling was of intrigues and social destruction, but when needed, he was quite capable of deploying his dark magic as well.


“Fine,” I reluctantly agreed to his help, “What do you suggest I do.


“Josephine, you have about as much tact as a lumberjack swinging an axe in a china shop. Optimism means you lack information. I’m so well informed that I’m highly aware of the probability that this beast will kill the both us,” he responded.


“You know Samuel, I really dislike you. Honestly, it keeps me up at night,” I replied after realizing he would be no help at all in this situation.


Hesitantly I stepped forward and slowly approached the beast with my hands held up above my head. I looked deep into its seething red eyes, projecting dominance until the beast returned to standing on four legs. It walked towards me with a lumbering gate, its hot breath reeking of disease, but I neither showed nor felt fear. To fear was weakness, weakness was death, and death is not an option. I knelt beside the beast and examined its side which held a long, deep gash that oozed thick black ichor. I gingerly touched the wound and was met with a deep snarl; I glared at the beast from over my shoulder.


“If you don’t wish to die then be patient,” I spoke calmly so as not to frighten it, “I know you can talk so it would be nice to know you’re name.”


“Barthonel, guardian of Epping forest,” The voice was gruff and deep, as if it hadn’t been used for a long time. “Why are you helping me human?”


“Maybe because I’m not human,” I said gazing at him, straight into those ancient eyes.


“Human, mortal, both die before their time,” a forlorn emotion entered his eyes. “Much in the same way my beautiful forest was taken before its time.”


I nodded and continued with my work, which was using a sewing needle that I carried in my purse to stitch the skin together and control the bleeding. My skirts lay around me in a pool of cyan, getting dirty and torn like the nuisances they were. If not for what people would say about me I wouldn’t even try so hard to look nice, because to be honest I really don’t care what they think. In my opinion you shouldn’t have to feel like you’re playing dress up for the people around you.


Samuel stood guard at the alley’s entrance, stark black against the light of the setting sun. To this day I remember when we first met in central park. I was alone, and being besieged by Ailoij, tall, black figures indistinguishable from trees. They travel in large packs and are often mistaken for woods, pushing themselves slowly along with their roots as they stalk their choice prey. Often they pull unwary travelers to their graves, and they would have been the death of me if not for his aid. Taking a midnight stroll through the park, I had not realized that there was anything was out of the ordinary until Samuel suddenly appeared by my side.


“You’re being followed,” he mumbled almost incoherently.


I raised an eyebrow at the strange gentleman. “Excuse me?” I asked already questioning his sanity, but at the same time wondering if he was referring to Lurker, who trailed behind me as usual.


“After much wrangling with my conscience (and by “wrangling” I mean ignoring and by “much” I mean about ten seconds) I decided that a pretty mot like you deserved to be saved by a noble young man like myself,” he replied in his backwards diction.


“That’s an arguable assumption,” I said calmly on the outside though I was already scanning the area with trained eyes for enemies or attackers. “I assure you that I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”



He sighed dramatically and looked over at me with wicked green eyes. “In an argument, a woman always has the last word. Anything a man says after that is just the beginning of a new argument,” he smiled broadly revealing rows of perfect white teeth, “Samuel Rivaon, and don’t worry I’ll be watching.”


Samuel dropped back and disappeared into the gloom of the night, after a couple minutes I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw him trailing me by a couple feet. I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but rather than allowing him the privilege of seeing me frustrated I chose to ignore his paranoid actions. After a while I began to develop this feeling of claustrophobia, like the woods had begun to close in on me. It wasn’t until a thin branch whipped my cheek, leaving a stinging red mark, that I realized it had been the trees following me all along.


Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why don’t I ever listen when people talk to me? It’s not that I have an attitude problem, people have a problem with my attitude, and that’s not my problem. I guess I should really start paying more attention to what people say. Another branch began to encircle my waist in an iron grip; I struggled to no avail, as the branch began winding itself tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe. Just as I was about to pass out, a fire spontaneously erupted along the nearby trunks, destroying the evil creatures? The flame got closer and closer to me until the flames were no farther than a foot away, then I was released as the creatures fled.


“Nasty little buggers aren’t they?” said Samuel as he sauntered over to my side. “We had better leave before they come back with more.”


He offered me his arm as I stood there gasping, still desperately trying to regain my breath. I don’t know if it was from lack of oxygen or poor judgment, but for some reason I decided to trust him that day, and it has made all the difference in my life -even if he can be a stuck up jerk most of the time. A grunt of pain brought me back from my daydreaming. I looked down at my work; the wound was as treated as I could manage in this situation.


“Thank you,” Barthonel said, “You may call on me to help you in return.”


Barthonel disappeared into the fog without another word, only his lumbering gait betraying the injury to his side Samuel coughed, pretending to clear his throat; obligingly I turned to hear what he had to say. Grinning practically from ear to ear he said simply,


“You’re not dead, happy twentieth birthday!”


I rolled my eyes at his typical nonsense, but replied, “Thanks.”


“Congratulations,” Samuel said before starting off back towards the manor. “Matron said to tell you she arranged for the seamstress to come by tomorrow and not to go running off before then.”



“This is what I get for being friends with you,” I said to no one in particular as we walked along the dimly lit streets of London. “Serves me right I suppose.”



Lurker nodded sagely as if agreeing with my offhanded comment. I regret quite a lot actually, except I don’t think I have the time to write it all down. Ask me tomorrow and the answer has been changed to “impossible”. At one point I realized that people can stay in your heart but not in your life. I want to think positive, yet judging from past experiences it probably won’t make a difference. I overanalyze situations, because I’m scared of what will happen if I’m not prepared for it (reason why I don’t like surprises much either).


Before I realized how far we had walked, the Rivaon estate lay before us, vast and grand in its entirety. On the banks of the Ravens Bourne River, Samuel's mansion was built in the early 1800's. A little snow and rain had already half-frozen the river. In a week's time it would be true winter at the estate, something even a half demon like me who was born to despise the cold, dreaded with every fiber of my being. A lone maple tree stood sentinel over the elegant Victorian home.

We walked around to the back of the house in a futile effort at escaping Matron’s inspection. He opened the back gate to the backyard which screeched as if in conflict with our plan. Most of the servants were loyal to Matron first and Samuel second, choosing to ignore me completely despite my constant effort to befriend them. .A lone oak grew near the back porch, silent and sentinel over the property for many years. Its branches had grown thin and brittle over time; no leaves budded or showed despite the careful maintenance of the groundskeeper. This place though, which had at first seemed so strange and foreign to me, was now the closest thing to home I could ever hope to find. For through its halls walk friends who know of my own oddities and accept me not in spite of them, but rather because of them. They are the few that have realized my gifts have become a part of me, a part that can never be ignored, and will never be changed.


Samuel brought me here two years ago, only two months after my eighteenth birthday. Due to my demonic nature and lineage, one can deduce that my father had relations with a demon, and I refuse to forgive him for keeping that from me and making me feel like a monster my whole life. Now I know why they treated me so horribly, but to lead me to believe that it was because of something I’d done was inexcusable. They had turned my older half-sister Margaret against me before I had even begun to talk; a fact that troubled me day and night as I painfully withstood her torture. When my brother was born, I was never allowed to touch or hold him, for my parents feared that the taint of my curse would spread to him, their only son. And so I came to be regarded as an interloper amongst my own family, treated little better than a stranger and tolerated even less. It is no wonder that when Samuel offered me an escape, I took it without much thought or consideration. Also, I hope that this insight into my early life allows you, the reader, to understand my hardships and trials as this story unfolds.


Out of nowhere Matron stood in the doorway, took one glance at our disheveled appearances and ordered the servants to draw me a bath immediately, saying I was covered in all manner of dirt, filth, and drivel that could be found in this fair city. I did as she bid me and returned to my plush bedroom where a girl with light ash brown hair and matching eyes filled the gold-footed, marble tub with steaming hot, lily scented water. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and rushed to finish her task so she could scurry out. The girl must be new, or maybe I’d just never seen her before. Her hair reached to her waist, it hung in her face, and hid her from my scrutiny. When she finally left I sank into the comforting heat with a sigh of contentment as all the tension in my muscles from running to and fro all day long, slowly vanished in a cloud of steam. Scraping away the layer of muck on my skin with a bar of soap that had been set aside for me, I was left feeling genuinely refreshed.


It wasn’t until all the heat had left the water that I grudgingly got out and went to my wardrobe to put on a nice frock for dinner (to avoid Matron scolding me for lacking effort) and brush my thick, lustrous black hair. The dress was a simple black, with red lining and accents that complimented my fair complexion and made my glacial blue eyes stand out nicely (at least according to the seamstress that fitted it for me).


Darkness had fallen, and so the candles that lined the walls had promptly been lit. Their flickering flames danced like gypsies and cast equally mysterious shadows. A hellhound trotted faithfully at my side, obedient only to me and vicious as any creature from his realm. Vitium was the embodiment of earthly sin, feasting on the pain and suffering of humans. Humans as a whole are overtly weak and emotional, prone to partaking in things they know will only hasten them towards their graves.


See, to supernatural beings such as myself, emotions are tangible things that can be taken at the will of a stronger being, which is why I try to keep mine under careful lock and key. If it were my wish, I could permanently abandon those emotions that make me human, and live the life of a full-blooded demon. Such drastic actions though merit likewise reason on my part, and would have series consequences for those around me as I became bereft of any mercy or empathy. Vitium growled as we entered the extravagant dining room, where Samuel sat at the head of a long mahogany table. The two of them mixed as well as oil and water, and needless to say had never gotten along very well.


“Why do you always insist on bringing that mutt to dinner Josephine,” Samuel asked with obvious distaste.


Vitium licked his chops and I could see how much he wished to leap over and take a large bite out of the boy. I scratched him behind the ear just the way he liked it to get him to calm down. His sleek ruby fur was broken on top by thick spines that were projected from his vertebrae, and extended to the tip of his tail which mirrored that of a scorpion’s. Ram’s horns protruded from the front of his thick skull. Those parts of him which most resembled the anatomy of a dog veered more towards the appearance of a Great Dane, what with his muscular frame and colorings, though his strength and speed outmatched even the best of dogs. To humans he appeared to be a normal dog with dark reddish brown fur and eyes a rich amber color. He is very protective and standoffish, but loyal to those who gain his trust, similar to me in that way.


“Because unlike you he has manners and some level of sanity,” I replied good-naturedly. “Plus it’s my birthday so I’ll do as I please.”


Samuel smirked and glared at the hellhound as I took my seat at the other end of the table. “I’m not crazy, just an eccentric rich man that enjoys keeping conversations limited to himself.”


"That is actually a good excuse," I replied with mock enthusiasm, "I'm surprised it came from your mind."


He opened his mouth to no doubt deliver some other witty remark, but just then Matron walked in, and like a mother of two bickering children silenced us with a glance. Though nearing fifty, she still cut an imposing figure, a woman who could end an argument before one had even begun.


"Fighting again I see," she observed wearily, "One day you two will realize that this only shows what callow youths you both are."


"Let's be reasonable about this!" Samuel protested, "In my defense I fully expected Josephine to be more agreeable once I brought her all the way from the United States, into the safety of our home."


"Being welcomed into the high-class didn't make me insufferable, I've always been this way," I explained to the conceited Samuel.


Matron looked upon our display with such displeasure that even Vitium threatened to slink away. I was thoroughly abashed, but Samuel who was used to Matron’s lectures, did naught but continue on until she threatened to prepare pickled eggs with breakfast (the only food Samuel adamantly refuses to eat). That shut him up right and proper, his jaw snapping shut with an all too audible click. Of course this silence lasted no longer than roughly three minutes, at which point we moved onto other, less disruptive topics.


Servants came into the room bearing silver trays laden with tonight’s meal: game hen marinated in oil and red wine vinegar; and stuffed with garlic, julienne peppers, tomatoes, and onions. Along with of course cherries, strawberries, and raspberries, all soaked in brandy, my favorites. A separate plate was put down for Vitium, a raw steak, which he all but devoured upon sight. The rest of us however, ate in a more civil manner, and with much smaller bites under Matron’s careful supervision. She had begun drilling manners and etiquette into my brain immediately upon my unexpected arrival. I can only imagine what her reaction would have been if I showed up in street clothes as I prefer to. As it was she just about fainted from shock when she first caught me wearing them about the house, and then went on to lecture me about the impropriety of it all and how if I didn’t want to be ridiculed by the other ladies I had better learn fast how to dress myself accordingly.


After a rather uneventful, Vitium and I retired to the study where I practiced my studies by night; learning that which had been kept from me as a child. My parents never told me school was an option, so I did not learn how to read and write, and only simple math was necessary to go about our day-to-day lives. I particularly enjoyed reading through the libraries many wonderful works regarding religion, because I had never met another person of my distinct background. I always wondered if there were others like myself out there, and if so how many? Maybe I'm truly one of a kind, it could be a possibility. The Bronte Sisters and Victor Hugo are my two other favorites though.


As the night drew long past the midnight hour, I fell asleep on a rocking chair in the study as I am prone to do on evenings such as this one. A book rested on my chest, forgotten in the lull of sleep, it rose and fell steadily as I breathed in and out. To an observer I might appear calm at rest, but in my dreams I was filled with terror. I found myself surrounded by flames, trapped in a burning building. I start to run, trying desperately to escape the flames. Occasionally, my clothes catch on fire, but I push forward, knowing the exit has got to be somewhere. I find a door, just in time; my body is covered in flame by now. I force it open; only find that outside the burning building, only more fire awaits me. The whole world seems to be in flames. Amidst this inferno a man stands steadily, staring at me as I burn. I scream for help and he says nothing to me except: “The child born of heaven and hell will rise to conquer her enemy. The empire of the heavens is invaded by the denizens of the underworld. The duchess of lies will court the baron of deceit. A time of death and sorrow will follow a young woman in her journey for knowledge.”

I awoke with a start finding my surroundings unchanged, and thankfully, not on fire. Vitium lay beside my rocking chair, snoring heavily, but his ears constantly tuned for even a hint of danger. A scream reverberated through the halls, shrieking as shrill as any banshee. Vitium sprang to his feet in an instant a menacing, feral growl began in the back of his throat and grew gradually louder. There was the sound of footsteps outside the door as the other inhabitants of the manor woke from their own slumber. The study doors flew open and Matron stood there, her face wan and pale from fright. She stepped towards me and enveloped me in a warm embrace that smelled faintly of vanilla.


“Go downstairs,” she told me shakily, “But be prepared for a grave scene.”


Numbly I did as she told me, momentarily removed from the grasp of fear, though trepidation and a nervous anticipation waged its own war inside me, gnawing at the edges of my mind. Servants sat in chairs, shock a distinct feature as they stood still and watched me go by. Warily I inhaled deeply through my nose, breathing in the emotions that filled this intense atmosphere: disgust, fear, pity, and above all self-preservation. The last one puzzled me, why did the servants fear for their lives within the safety of the estate, which was protected by the best of both magical and human means to deter all manner of intruders. Even Lurker was physically incapable of crossing the manor’s threshold, unless for some reason Samuel might choose to lift the barriers, but to remove the layers of spells took much time and hard work on Samuel’s part.


We had finally reached the entry hall, where the remnants of the servants’ emotions lingered and caused my stomach to churn as if I might be sick. I looked through the doorway, and watched as something like horror and sadness mingled together and came out among a sudden torrent of tears. Without thinking twice, I ran over and threw myself next to where the body now lay, and where my sister had been perhaps just a short while ago. That person was gone; now, all that remained was a motionless corpse.


I cried as I had never done before, I’ve never been so deep inside my emotions that it felt as if I were drowning in them, I just wanted to shut them off. My tears were lost in the slow drizzle that always clung to London’s sky. Was all the wealth and knowledge I had been promised and gained really worth the death of a family member, even one that I had never really gotten along with well? Guilt came over me in floods, and all my haunting childhood memories began to creep into my thoughts. What had once been a beautiful, smiling girl with golden blonde hair, suntanned skin, and freckles, was suddenly a ghost, lying cold and broken in front of me.


A biting wind came up as the rain worsened, it seemed to take away every doubt and fear that filled my mind, and I could fly away with it to someplace far, far way where death was a foreign idea. The bitter cold stung my already tear-stained face and the thin dress I wore did little to bring me warmth. Yet I was oddly relaxed, void of anything all my emotions had been taken away in that moment of deprivation, so I savored instead of sorrow this wonderful lack of feeling.


“Josephine!” a voice called from inside the house, and compelled me to turn to face them. All relaxation and thoughts of calm peace left in a second as I saw the face that belonged to the voice.


“I might have known it would be you to interrupt me in my time of grief,” I said in an oddly monotone voice.


Samuel sighed and came to sit next to me, draping his coat across my thin shoulders. “I came to comfort you-”


“What for?” I laughed cynically, “Taking me away from me family?”


“I never forced you to leave,” he replied indignantly. Judging from the hurt look in his eyes my comment had offended him. “If there was something I could do you know I would.”


Realization dawned on me. “Use your magic,” I automatically demanded. “Bring her back to life!”


“Look at her Josephine,” he spoke gravely. I looked down at her mutilated remains, not processing grief in the numbness that was my soul. “She wouldn’t be your sister, she’d be a monster.”


“Don’t say that word! Not about Margaret…” another lone tear fell from my eye to caress my cheek. “I’m the real monster.”


Inside though I knew he spoke the truth. “Oh well then, I suppose I’ll just have to kill you and be on my way.”


He stood and opened his arms wide, even handed me the dagger he always carried on his person. I clasped my fingers around the worn wooden handle, but just as I was about to throw it down in revulsion, he took hold of my hand and brought the dagger tip to his chest. Pressing it deeper towards his heart without even a grimace of pain, without even a bead of sweat upon his brow. A crimson stain blossomed on Samuel’s pristine white sleeping shirt, spreading slowly until I yelled for him to stop. His dark brown curly locks lay plastered to his head from the rain, which ran down his face in little rivulets.


“Why? I’d rather die than watch you turn into the one thing you always abominated,” he spoke calmly as if nothing were wrong.


I wasn’t quiet anymore, inside or out. The storm still raged on, the wind blew the droplets of water hard against the side of the house, almost making it appear like a waterfall was streaming from the clouds. Each drop of water that collided with my skin stung, but it was oddly refreshing to feel the cool sensation of water against my hot face. I closed my eyes and listened to the tragic symphony the storm composed. The sound of the wind rustling the leaves that lay on the ground, the sounds of thunder clapping loudly above me, the rain pinking against the surfaces it collided with—it was a disaster that distracted me from what was happening.


On the other hand, I knew exactly where I was because there was a dead girl in the middle of everything. I was going to have to walk past her corpse on my way back inside, and I was going to have to look her in the face as I did, because to do anything else would be too…cold. She deserved better than that. I didn’t really want to be here. I approached her and crouched by her side for one last time. She looked different already: faded, wilted as I approached Margaret and knelt at her side. Surely that wasn’t a normal part of the process of human decay, but then again, there wasn’t anything normal about her death either, so that made sense. A short, dry laugh cut through the air around us as I realized the humor of that thought. Nothing about any of this should make sense, and yet…it did. . .


"I’m sorry this happened,” I mumbled. It felt weird, but I needed to do it. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”


I studied her soft face, her smooth hair, and her delicate hands. Anything and everything accept the gaping bloody hole in her chest where a heart should have been. If I spent too much time looking at that, I was going to lose it again.


“I’m sorry you died. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.” A servant started sobbing, but then was cut off, as though everyone realized that they was interrupting something important. “And I’m sorry that I never got a chance to truly love you as a sister should.


As I stood up I looked down at my hands and wished I saw blood on them - the real thing: all red, and thick, and warm, and sticky and forever in the way I knew would never wash off. I wished I could be scarred like that rather than by merely knowing that he had ripped her heart from her chest without actual proof of her connection to me. I wished I had the kind power that would make him sick every time he smelt copper and saw red. The kind of proof that would leave her outside as dead as the darkness I now saw reflected in her once happy eyes. Instead I was left knowing that he had hurt me along with her. He had ripped what remained of my own broken heart out along with hers. I wished I could take it back. Just a few minutes to undo what was now, and forever, done.




Join the Discussion


This article has 65 comments. Post your own!

@nime.@ngel said...
Jan. 14, 2013 at 9:06 pm:
I think with either a real person or fictional character to never really put a label on them; you can never really be just one thing evil or good and there are many interpretation of those things, I see Josephine is purposely self-proclaiming herself as a "demon" to force her to be that just one kind of trait; the side of herself she has chosen to be or wants be trying to destroying the good in her self; along with the 'weakness' in it. Srry i overthink things so this might not... (more »)
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 15, 2013 at 12:00 am :
I'm glad you noticed this, because that is exactly the idea I was trying to get across. This is only the first chapter of the book, but later on I explain why she's good too. If you want I could post the other chapters in your thread.
 
@nime.@ngel replied...
Jan. 15, 2013 at 2:53 pm :
I'd love to read more it this i love the charaters and the plot in general thanks!
 
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Claudia.VII said...
Jan. 14, 2013 at 1:32 pm:
Nice imagery, gorgeous elements, overall, brava! :) Keep it up!
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 14, 2013 at 6:38 pm :
Thank you I really appreciate your feedback!
 
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Sketched97This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 13, 2013 at 8:53 pm:
Really good writing, without a doubt you have a lot of skiils. Unfortunately, I didn't like the characters much.
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 13, 2013 at 11:59 pm :
Why if you don't mind me asking?
 
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Apollo77 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 12, 2013 at 1:32 pm:
awesome story! I wish it were a whole book that i could read, honestly sounds like it's ready for barnes and noble. I just don't get why all the good stories are set in london! it's so unfair! great job
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 12, 2013 at 7:03 pm :
Actually this is only the first chapter while I finish the rest of the book. If you want I would be happy to post chapter 2 on your thread or something.
 
Apollo77 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jan. 14, 2013 at 4:01 pm :
ohh that would be great! honestly it's such a cool story! i can't wait till you finish...
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 15, 2013 at 12:02 am :
Where or how would you like me to get it to you? Or maybe I should just post the other chapters.
 
Apollo77 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jan. 15, 2013 at 3:25 pm :
just post them, I'll find you...
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 15, 2013 at 10:01 pm :
Lol not sure if that's a threat or a promise. XD
 
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Ourzen said...
Jan. 12, 2013 at 1:11 am:
I have to say, that was just amazing I see so many different elements blending in with an unparalled sense of imagery. Do indeed keep up the good, I mean fantastic work my friend. This kind of reading is what tells me what I need to improve on with my own writing. Thank you so much for such a wonderful piece, and I will expect more amazing pieces from you in the future!
 
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IMSteelThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Jan. 11, 2013 at 7:05 pm:
Very good discription, good character actions.  I myself don't particularly like demons and things of the sort, but over all a good story.  Keep writing!
 
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OkayCorral said...
Jan. 9, 2013 at 3:53 pm:
Omygosh you are sooo gewd :)) 5 stars
 
KateyKat replied...
Jan. 11, 2013 at 3:30 pm :
What was your favourite part?
 
OKAYCORRASL replied...
Feb. 4, 2013 at 3:36 pm :
I loved it when Harry was like OMG We are NEVER geting back together and you said that you were sick of him anyway. I knew he was trouble when he walked in GURL. I klnew it. I toldja. Aint novbody got time for some high school drama nuh uh nuh
 
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KateyKat said...
Jan. 9, 2013 at 3:46 pm:
Thanks, I'm seriously considering removing Lurker entirely, because I don't think I got my point across with him. Then again this is only the first chapter so maybe I'll post the second chapter and that will help explain more.
 
IMSteelThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. replied...
Jan. 11, 2013 at 7:06 pm :
Lurker, to me, seems to represent fear, or paranoia, or something like that.  Just a thought. 
 
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