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Unstolen Hearts Prologue
Penelope and her best friend Jude stood upon a cliff facing west, a seemingly endless shore of treetops, which did end, turning into a shore, then a lake. What a beautiful horizon. The glorious, unconfined red and brilliant orange and gentle splashes of pink clung heavily to the sky. In the center of the masterpiece skyline, sat the sun and it’s reflection, as if the sparkling, vast blue lake was just a simple mirror, nothing more of a use than that.
Jude was getting married, oh how Penelope envied him. He was so young yet he had already found his “thief”. She sighed out of self-pity and despair and all other feelings that corresponded with this constant jealousy. Why couldn't anyone be right for her? Guilt crept in, quickly and surely. I should be thrilled for him! she thought, guilt adding up with her untidy and vicious-feeling emotions, like a slap to the face.
Jude turned his head to look at her, a smile of joy blooming on his pale face. His distinct, emerald eyes widened in excitement. Of course he would be excited, he’s getting married. Penelope thought bitterly. His lightly wavy, short, blonde hair pulled away from his face, only accenting his happiness. His dimples showed and Penelope swore she saw little tears hint at the corners of his eyes. Again her misery smited at her. The pain provoked a stifled sigh. Jude was clearly getting hyped up. Suddenly, he tipped back his head and gave a loud and long howl. The sound expressed his volcano of impossible-to-contain emotions of happiness. The great noise bounced and echoes off the trees and began to take a frightening turn to a wolf’s sorrowful yet fierce and aggressive call.
Unprepared for Jude’s brief call, Penelope jumped a little and then smacked his shoulder.
“Sh sh sh shh!!!!” she hissed. Listening to his howl echo off the trees, she sighed again, now out of frustration. Everyone will be on the look out for wolves now. she thought miserably. She turned to scold him, only to have to quick-switch to a smile for his sake. The face someone would make if they were in heaven was plastered upon his features. How unbearable, being around his happiness. Jealousy stabbed at her untouched and unstolen heart and instinctively she rushed a hand, (her left) to it.
While Jude’s heart was being stolen, all of Penelope’s family members died mysteriously of some kind of sickness, disease, whatever the excuse. ‘Twas a terrible tragedy, those lying voices echoed, false and unknowing sympathy dripping in their coy voices. She kept this to herself, unable to bear telling Jude the news, fearing spoiling his mood. Jude no longer had a heart, for his new love stole it. He had hers though. Jude turned and noticed Penelope’s sad expression and took her right hand.
“What’s wrong?” Jude asked, the eruption of emotions gone to some other island, only to be refilled with concern. What a wasted emotion, Penelope thought. Feeling guilty once more, she removed her light hand from his gentle, and looked to the sunset in front of her. Jude looked and focused on the hand covering her heart with a look of shock, shooing the concern.
“Do you actually STILL have a heart?” he demanded, the shock contrasting oddly with the hint of amusement that came with it.
Penelope smiled grimly.
“Nobody would dare steal it. Apparently mine is not good enough to steal, My love was never given, nor was it stolen, nor have I ever wished to give it.”
“That’s ridiculous!” he exclaimed.
Penelope shook her head. She glanced to the sunset, a glimpse turning drastically into a stare. A tornado of colors hovered menacingly over a certain spot. Not the pretty sunset colors either, that was certain. A dark, sickly green, a dark navy blue, the brightest neon pink (which Penelope had never seen before) and a grotesque yellow swirled around in an haunting rhythm. The more Penelope stared at it, the more lethargic and sick she felt. She leaned onto Jude for support. They swirled in such a melody she felt an unfamiliar sensation swell up inside her. This, joy. A criminal joy. She felt as though she had just killed and enjoyed it. Unwilling to slip into the loss of control she felt, she whispered to Jude, “Go to the light. Find out what did....”
Penelope literally fell unconscious, for Jude was off searching for the light she spoke of. She fell down and the rocks. It should have felt like an explosion, but it instead felt like floating down a wild yet safe river. She felt no pain. None at all. Only one word came to her mind when she hit the trees. Witchcraft. The slap of a tree forced her deeper into unconsciousness.
Virginia Beach, Virginia
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Oh god I was a stupid twelve year old
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You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we're doing it- Neil Gaiman.
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