Thursday, August 29, 2013
Unfortunately, the man was easily on her trail.
When Lia was absolutely certain they were out of view, she let her guise slip; red eyes glowing, wings unfurled to give her a more intimidating appearance, horns curled toward the sky. She stretched her claws toward the offender and demanded, "What do you want with me?"
"I'm going to make you pay for what you did to my son, you Hellbeast!" The man was too enraged to be afraid of her.
Lia gave a sardonic smile and spat, "You bore a shit bag and no one will miss him."
Definitely not the right choice of words to say to someone that exposed her in the first place, but she did not regret them.
The man's face screwed up in anger and he threw another powder at her. Unlike the first powder, which was translucent and scentless, this one was as black as a moonless night and had a sour, almond-like smell.When the granules grazed against her arm, it seared her flesh and took some of her energy with it.
What was alarming is that he had a whole bag of the stuff, and before she had time to think about it, he was throwing more. Lia managed to avoid the next black cloud, but she knew she had to get the powder away from him without actually touching it. If that little bit singed her arm, she didn't want to think about what the full impact of it would do.
The man kept throwing gigantic handfuls of powder as Lia quickly avoided it until there was nothing left. Lia struck quickly as soon as he dropped the bag, apprehending his arms with a tight grip.
"Stupid man," she growled, "Did you really think you would best me?"
The man grunted in pain at her strength, but he was smiling, "I think I already have."
As soon as he said this, Lia could feel her grip around the man's forearms begin to weaken considerably.
"How?!" She cried out in frustration. When she looked around, she could see the man wasn't just haphazardly throwing black powder at her; he was strategically making a circle that encompassed both of them. Lia immediately let go and tried to run again, but smacked into an invisible barrier that knocked her down flat.
The man sneered down at her, "If it had been anyone else, you might have gotten away with it."
"Hunters," Lia said in realization.
"And now, I'll banish you back to the hell you crawled out of," And he began to chant.
Lia could feel her flesh singeing and burning with every word. She wanted to yell at the man that John Holiday deserved exactly what he got, but she was so overpowered by the pain that all she could do was try to hold it in and be strong. She would definitely not give this man the benefit of seeing her cry out in pain. That is, until she saw her flesh bubbling and bursting.
That's when she screamed.
But in the middle of the woods, who would ever hear her? Even if someone came upon them by chance, who would want to save her? The man looked like he was excising a demon, and no one had sympathy for the devil. They would sooner cheer him on than reach out to her.
Lia begrudgingly accepted that the story always goes the same for creatures like her, and she waited for her inevitable death until the burning suddenly stopped.
She looked up to see a woman clad in a denim skirt and black, knee-high boots. She must have broken the circle, because she stepped through where a barrier stood before and clocked the man in the face with a tightly closed fist, her long brown hair swishing with the force. He must not have been paying attention because he immediately fell over.
The woman's boots met the man's groin, and her heel met his head sharply as he was stunned.
Wide-eyed, Lia stared between the unconscious man, and her savior who carefully helped her up with a reassuring smile, "C'mon, let's get you out of here."
The police involved were unable to trace any sort of weapon or foul play. She was pulled into the school's office in front of not only the principal and guidance counselor, but the cops. When she was questioned, she should have won an Oscar for her performance.
"You were the last one seen leaving with him."
Tears in her eyes, she shyly admitted, "We went to make out, and then I left. I could have saved him! I should have stayed just a little longer and..." She pretended to be so broken up about the whole situation that she couldn't finish the sentence, dissolving into a crying fit. The cops felt pity for the young girl and let her go. The guidance counselor gave her a hug and offered her sessions 'in case she wanted to talk'.
She heard a cop say on her way out, "She couldn't have hurt him even if she wanted to."
If only they knew.
The whole incident was ruled out as a wild animal attack.
And while hundreds of girls talked about John in sad, hushed tones, it was always shallow.
"He was SO cute," seemed to be the general consensus, and Lia always smirked when she heard this.
"Not anymore he isn't," she thought.
Other than the absence of John Holiday, who apparently fell into a coma, the girls moved on.
One day, while papers were passed up in math class, Lia noticed Chelsea began drawing again, and this made her smile.
But there was still one person who didn't forget.
He saw John Holiday slashed up beyond recognition. He nodded when the cops told him it was a wild animal, but he knew better. He visited his comatose son everyday in the hospital, waiting for him to wake up. Situations like this didn't 'just happen' to someone. Especially when the man was no stranger to the supernatural world the majority of his life. He agreed this thing was an animal of sorts, but unlike anything a human had ever seen before. John wasn't in a coma from the attack. This was something that thrived off of human energy and put him there. This was probably something that was close to the school like a teacher or a student that managed to lull the boy into a false sense of security.
The man devised a plan as class was letting out that day. He stayed hidden as he released a bag of powder in the wind and waited as it blew over the outgoing students. A few of them sneezed, some coughed as they waved a hand in front of their faces, but one girl with fluffy dark curls and caramel skin was forced out of her human disguise for only a moment, but it was all he needed. By the panicked look in her wide eyes she must have known she was caught and took off toward the woods as fast as her legs could carry her.
Unfortunately for Lia, he was hot on her heels.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
"No going back now," I could hear the buzzing of the shears drawing ever closer to my scalp. My heart pounded, nausea welling up in my stomach. This is exactly what I wanted, wasn't it? I turned the thought over in my mind for months, but started to seriously consider it for two weeks before following through. And now, I forced myself not to look because I thought if I saw the shave, I would cry, run out, throw up or a combination of all three. With the fluffy, brown curls littering the salon floor, could anyone blame me?
"Enough to make a wig for a small child," my boyfriend joked and I laughed nervously in agreement.
Oh yes. I remember why I thought about it. I have a lot of hair, and I've never been the type of girl to give a damn about sitting it front of a mirror for hours at a time, twisting, plaiting, straight-ironing, hot-combing. It all just felt like modern day torture. Some women revel in it and tie their hair into their very being and femininity. I wanted to cut my hair as a test of my own womanhood.
The shear guards were swapped repeatedly until my hair was shaved closer and closer to my scalp, the shortest my hair has ever been in my entire life. However, when I finally mustered the courage to look at the chopped strands, the panic was gone and replaced by a calm awe.
I think that the panic came as a part of pre buyer's remorse. What if I hate it? What if this wasn't a good idea? What if I'm wasting time AND money? And then the more shallow reasons: What if it's ugly? What if I feel ugly because of it?
Too long has our collective femininity and identity wrapped up in the strands on our head. We do atrocious things to ourselves in the name of beauty and acceptance. Making the transition to an afro eight years ago was not easy for the same reasons. What if it's ugly? What if I feel ugly? But regardless, I have learned that I am not my hair and my femininity is not defined by it or the lack thereof.
As a minority, I will never be the blonde girl in the hair ad, swishing her locks around bragging about a product that promises shine or length or thickness, but then again, neither will other blonde girls. We will never be these people.
So it's time for us to just be ourselves.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Normally, Lia would have flashed her rose colored eyes as a warning. Worst case scenario, she would have fought him. If she were filled with as much energy as she could carry, she could easily defend herself against an alpha, a beta would be nothing.
However, now was definitely not one of those times. Tapas could only take the body so far in battle.
Lia gave him a cool smile before she turned on her heels and disappeared into the crowd to find Stiles.
Maybe Derek was keeping tabs on Stiles to make sure she didn't eat him, not that she would dream of eating her only friend anyway. However, it became harder to defend her innocent status when people started turning up dead. So needless to say, Derek was very suspicious and convinced she was using Stiles to her benefit.
Lia frantically searched the crowd until she found Stiles at the bar.
She grabbed him urgently and said in his ear, well above the music, "Derek's here!"
Stiles pulled back, brows raised with surprised, "What? Seriously?"
"I know he's after me. You have to distract him."
Stiles mouth dropped as he looked around, "Me? What do you want me to do against him?"
Desperate times called for desperate measures; she could see the distance between them and Derek closing as he made his way through the crowd.
"Please forgive me later."
She gripped his forearm and stared into his eyes, her own warm and bright rose in color as she met his, "I want you to go out there and dance like the sexual butterfly I know you are. Can you do that for me?"
Stiles's eyes went vacant as he stared at her, but he slowly nodded.
Imposing her will on humans was an easy ability, but doing it not only drained her own resources, but seeing the hypnotized, blank stares she received was unnerving.
She watched Stiles walk to the dance floor, his body relaxed and calm as he did, unlike his usual flailing, twitching motions, and Lia frowned at this.
"He'll be fine," she repeated to herself as she looked around for the exit.
She was ready to bolt when she felt another hand on her shoulder, but this one had a strong grip that jerked her around, forcing her to face the opposition.
"What are you doing here?" Derek demanded.
Lia gave him a flirtatious smile, "Relaxing, partying. You should try it," she cooed before she firmly cupped his face, forcing him to stare in her eyes.
A non-human like Derek could resist her will much better, but she fought harder until he had an entranced look in his eyes, "I think there's someone out there waiting to dance with you."
When she let him go, she took a huge step away from him. He suddenly looked disinterested in her as he gazed to the dance floor. Lia followed his line of sight, watching as the crowd dispersed in cinematic fashion to reveal Stiles rolling his body smoothly to the music. His eyes were positively smoldering as he looked over.
What happened next surprised her most of all. Derek began walking toward Stiles as if drawn by some magnetic force. Stiles bit his bottom lip seductively as he danced. Derek quickly pulled the smaller framed boy closer to his body. Their eyes never strayed.
Lia's mouth dropped, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watched. She watched Stiles's hands wrap around Derek's neck. She watched Derek's hand run up the back of Stiles's shirt. She watched their faces almost, but not quite, touch.
She couldn't stop smiling, heartbeat drumming in excitement for her friend's sake. Reaching out and touching them both would bring in much more energy than she used trying to get them away from her in the first place. But for as dazed as Stiles's eyes appeared to be, she saw something she had never seen on someone she influenced before: a smile.
It was a very small smile, but he looked happy. Derek wasn't really the smiling type, but the way he pulled Stiles closer, the protective manner of his movements made her realize there was definitely something between them, and she couldn't bring herself to take that away from them. They treated each other so indifferently to the public eye, but now, inhibitions cast aside, she could see the spark of something that she too recognized from a long time ago.
Silently lamenting the loss of the potential of a meal, she walked away from the dance floor and headed toward the door until she felt one more hand on her shoulder.
"Hey baby, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"Actually, I was just heading out," Lia said curtly as she continued to walk.
The man grabbed her wrist, "C'mon, what's your rush?"
Ed Hardy shirt, straight jeans, overly gelled hair, shiny black shoes. She found him; the one straight guy at a gay club.
A slow, smile spread on her lips at her dumb luck as she stared at the hand wrapped around her wrist.
"Why don't we just blow this joint?"
By the time she flicked her eyes up, Lia was smiling sinisterly as she took his forearm, "Let's."
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Lia looked over to Stiles, "A gay club?"
"You said you needed energy!" He insisted.
"A gay club?!"
"Can't you steal energy from the air?"
Lia's clenched her jaw while her brows narrowed, "Are you really confusing me for a plant?"
As they walked in together, Stiles was immediately pulled away from her side by a muscled drag queen that hugged him and cried out in delight, "Look who's here!" Which summoned a few more queens seemingly out of nowhere. They all began talking excitedly at once, mooning over the pale boy.
Lia gave a short laugh at Stiles's slightly embarrassed though happy expression before walking away. He would probably be busy for a little while so she took it upon herself to go to the dance floor.
She could smell the energy in the air. She lamented that she only worked on touch to "eat". Why in the world would Stiles think bringing her here was a good idea?
Before Lia had time to pout about this, she felt a hand on her shoulder which caused her to turn around. She was faced with a boy she had never seen before. Blonde, blue eyes, pretty white teeth shining from an appealing smile, "I absolutely love your hair," he gushed.
Curly and dark, but thick and voluminous; she never thought her hair was something special except that, for whatever reason, society hated curls and did everything it could to flatten and straighten them away. Despite the ability to shape shift, she never rid herself of her curls.
The compliment made her smile unexpectedly big. It even disarmed her momentarily until her whole body ached with weakness from her hunger.
"Thank you," she said, as she reached out and touched his bicep, holding her arm there as long as she possibly could while adding, "You're buff! Do you work out?" His energy tasted unusual in the best way possible, akin to a salted caramel.
"I do! Thanks for noticing! Gosh, you're just so pretty," the blonde turned his head and called out to his friends, "Come here, you have to see this girl's style!"
Soon, Lia was surrounded by a crowd of beautiful men, complimenting her hair, telling her she was pretty. It was good for her ego, but she knew the whole conversation was a little shallow. However, this was strictly for purposes of gaining her energy back. They definitely wouldn't call her pretty if the horns and claws came out.
So she played along, a huge smile on her lips as she touched them all in a friendly manner, thanking them and returning the compliments. All the while, her touch was enough to take what she needed. All of the energy tasted unusual and different. It was almost like Stiles brought her to a trendy tapas place, which was fantastic, but her body ached for the main course which is something this place didn't exactly specialize in.
Lia gazed around, hoping her eyes would land on the one straight guy that was coerced into coming by his female friends.
After her green eyes surveyed the room for at least the fifth time, someone finally caught her eye. Unfortunately for her, that someone was Derek Hale who was looking her dead in the eyes.
And that's when Lia panicked.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
"I'm so hungry," Lia lamented to Stiles as she stretched out on the floor of her apartment in a very cat-like manner.
"Me too, we could go get tacos," he offered, but she quickly cut him off.
"That's not what I mean."
His eyes flicked over to meet hers, his brows etching themselves in concern as well as understanding.
Lia explained her hunger to him one time when he asked her in curiosity.
"Think of me like an RPG character in a video game. You have your red bar for HP and your blue bar for MP. You can easily recover HP by eating food. For MP you usually have to find drink or elixir or some kind of potion. For me, my HP is restored by food and my MP is restored only by sexual energy. If I don't have that energy, my disguise will slip and I'll probably attack anyone out of desperation. Thankfully, that's never happened to me, but I've heard stories."
Stiles nodded the entire time she spoke to show that he followed exactly what she was saying, but then a look of realization crossed his features, "Wait, what video games have you played?"
"Sometimes, I play WoW. I wanted to see how they portrayed succubi."
"What did you think?"
Lia gave a noncommittal shrug in reply.
Stiles pushed himself up off the ground, his hands clenched and unclenched, fingers wiggling erratically as he thought, "Okay, you won't kill anyone, right?"
Lia rolled her eyes in the most exaggerated manner possible, "I thought we were past that by now."
"Well, it's still kind of alarming that you have to drain energy to live."
"You eat meat, don't you?"
"Then shut up. It's not like I'm killing anyone."
Stiles's jaw clenched and his nostrils flared a little.
"Okay, fine. What about at school?"
"Don't you think I would have done that already? I'm trying to remain inconspicuous."
Lia watched as his eyes fell downward and slightly to the side. He uncomfortably twitched and bounced in one spot, trying not to look at her.
"Wait, you have an idea! What are you thinking?" Lia stood and slowly walked towards him, her eyes lighting up, "Please?"
"I..." his voice trailed off and he sighed heavily, "I may know of a place..."
Monday, August 19, 2013
John Holiday was found later in the evening when the football team went to practice. Five puncture wounds ran through either wrists, torn open wider from what appeared to be a struggle. His face, the infamous visage that made hundreds of girls swoon, shredded and torn from what they guessed to be the claws of a wild animal. The only way they were able to identify him was the school ID dangling out of his pocket by a lanyard.
Despite the massive injuries sustained, it shocked everyone when the parametics announced that they found a pulse.
Lia debated killing John Holiday, but she also realized that there were things that were far worse than death. She drained enough of his energy to make sure he was too weak to struggle against her, and only then did she drop him on the ground. She brandished her claws in front of her blood red eyes as she darkly vowed, "I'll make you into the monster you are."
With those words, she relentlessly plunged her claws into the flesh of his face and dragged them repeatedly until she couldn't see the cleft in his chin. She raked until his already dark curls turned black with blood. She clawed until her arms trembled with exhaustion. He made no sound and he did not move except for an occasional convulsion of pain.
When Lia stepped back, rubbing a fleck of blood off of her cheek with the back of her wrist, she saw John Holiday as still as the grave, but she could hear his heart beat.
"Well, it's certainly an honest look on you, isn't it?" Lia mused as she reclasped her bra and straightened her shirt before spreading her leathery wings and taking off to the twilight skies.
The moment Lia stepped in the door, she took off her bloodied clothing to bleach and burn.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
"So, you're here after all," John Holiday said sounding both amazed and cocky.
Lia smiled seductively, "Of course I am. We had a deal."
"I said I would be here, and I said I would take you home, so here I am."
He descended on her, cornering her against the pole with his body, "Well, you're not my usual, but I guess I'll make an exception for you."
Lia kept the smile plastered on her face, as her eyes met his, "I think I can make it worth your while."
"We'll see," he said as he hastily began to nibble at her neck, his hand working on the buttons of her shirt.
Lia closed her eyes and pretended to enjoy his ministrations which were both hasty and sloppy, at best. He nearly ripped a few buttons off her blouse in his urgency and his nibbles left a little too much saliva for her liking. His hands lacked the tenderness of a lover.
Not that she knew what that was like, but this definitely wasn't it.
Lia gladly distanced herself from the sensations, which left a lot to be desired, and instead focused on the beating of his heart and his breathing. She knew there was a certain point when he would reach an excited, near-climactic state, and that is what she patiently listened for, waited for, all while remaining still.
"John, I don't know about this..." Lia said, feigning fear, just to see if John Holiday had any redeemable qualities.
"We had a deal," he said into her neck, his thumb hooking under the clasp at her bra which sat at her sternum. She made sure to wear it that day just for such an occasion. Soon, she could feel the warm spring air wash over her breasts and his hands sneaking up her thigh.
"Please..." she whimpered as she struggled against her own self-restraint.
"No backing out now," he said as his fingers reached ever higher.
She could hear his heartbeat and his breathing reach a fever-pitch when he thought she was scared and struggling.
That sick fuck.
Lia reached out from behind the pole and grabbed both of John's wrists, her fingers growing into long, razor sharp digits. When she curled her hands about him, they sank deep into his flesh. She felt a rush of satisfaction when she heard the tear and felt the blood. Even more so when John Holiday yelled in both shock and pain.
"Same for you then," Lia said as her human guise slipped away to reveal the red eyes, the horns and the wings since he already became well acquainted with her claws.
John Holiday tried to struggle against her, but she pulled tighter, a sinister smile crossing her lips, "And John?"
His eyes were wide and filled with fear, but they met hers.
"I'm everyone's usual."
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
On Monday, Lia approached John Holiday as he read one of his classics. Thankfully, it was one she read herself and she dropped an existential line before saying, "It's a good one," before she passed him. She also made sure to wear a skirt that day, one that fell an inch above her knee.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, Lia sat where John Holiday planted his gum. She wiggled around as if she couldn't find comfort in the desk chair when really she was trying to ensure her skirt caught the gum just right. When she felt the garment tug slightly to the left, she gently scooted forward to expose more of her thigh. The day after, she wiggled around until he would be able to see one of her buttocks.
On Thursday, Lia wore the shortest skirt she had in her closet. It was also short enough that some of the teachers stopped her because of dress code. Lia only smiled and gently touched their forearms, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again," she said in her sweetest voice while at the same time using her birthright to press her influence over them.
It worked like a charm.
Lia went to the cafeteria and grabbed an apple, walking where John Holiday's eyes followed behind passing girls. She stopped directly in his line of sight with a devilishly grin before she nibbled into her already half-eaten apple, "Hey John," she called in a velvety voice.
John Holiday's brows raised in surprise as he was address. His eyes flicked up from where they had been before, "Yeah?"
She stood by his table, leaning towards him, purposely letting her bosom heave over the lower cut top she decided to wear. She spoke in a voice filled with playful mischief, "I heard you went to third base with Chelsea, is that true?"
A cocky smile spread on his lips, "I guess you could say that."
Lia leaned even closer to his ear and said quietly, "Why would you only go to third base when I could take you home?"
When she pulled her head back to gauge his reaction, his brows were raised as his eyes met hers. He searched her eyes, trying to find truth in what she was saying.
"I'll meet you under the bleachers after school today. Don't be late."
Lia winked and left the core of her apple in front of John Holiday's lunch tray before walking away.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
My goal is to post 300 words (minimum) every single day.
Not having access to a computer for a few days kinda put a minor set back to that goal, but getting away from the screen every once in a while is a good thing. I went to Sarasota to meet some of my boyfriend's family. I had an awesome time! I saw some really interesting things, but I am SO glad to be home.
Not to mention I'm glad to continue with my goal.
I have another reason for writing this, and that's to tell you, my dear reader: please check the labels of my work.
With the story I am working on so far, I have been dealing with themes of a sexual nature, including that of implied sexual violence and whatever fits the frame of this story later. I know that this may be a trigger for some people, so this is why I am informing you. I don't want my writing to be the cause of your trigger.
So please, if you think there may be anything you are / may become uncomfortable with, check the labels of my story first. They're located at the bottom of these entries and I will do my best to outline them with "tw: ____" which means "trigger warning: ____". I promise, I won't take these triggers lightly and put anything stupid like people are wont to do (i.e.; tw: pancakes). I take them and your well-being seriously.
tldr; read the labels at the bottom of my entries.
Thank you for your continued support!
Friday, August 9, 2013
Girls whispered his name in the hallway. They talked about his dark, silken ringlets and the slight cleft in his chin. Lia couldn't escape from the mania. Every time she turned a corner, she heard his name on their lips like its utterance might charm those baby blues their way.
John Holiday always ate the fruit cups in the cafeteria on Thursdays. John Holiday would expound on the importance of knowing the past as to not repeat the mistakes of our fore fathers when asked about the classic literature he caried around. John Holiday had an oral fixation because he always had something in his mouth from the end of a pencil to a piece of gum.
Lia barely said two words to John Holiday, but she became familiar with his habits because of the surrounding narrative. In fact, she decided to study him since he seemed to be the source of admiration for so many.
John Holiday ate a fruit cup in the cafeteria on Thursdays, his gaze trailing behind any skirt that past him. John Holiday read his classic literature, girls sighing amorously as they passed by. His eyes flicked up from the pages with a cocky smirk on his lips. John Holiday chewed his gum, certain to leave it precisely on the seat of a desk chair so the groupies' skirts would stick and expose a little more than what it should. Then he would chew his pencil, staring, with a pleased smile.
Lia felt her skin crawl at the smile, but the more sexual energy he stirred up, the better for her to harvest in the future; very beneficial to a young, budding succubus. So until then, she had no problem with a hormone-addled skirt chaser, especially if it benefitted her.
Until one day she heard John Holiday say, "I totally went to third base with Chelsea," to a group of boys.
"Whoa, really? She wanted it?"
"Well, she didn't say no."
Lia shared math with Chelsea, a girl that did not stand out in any way, but Chelsea always doodled in the margins of her notebook. Her assignment papers were covered with flowers some days, spirals the next, and Lia always noticed. That day she didn't draw. That day, she stared at her desk blankly, avoiding any eyes on her. Lia reached out a hand to get her attention for a pencil. Chelsea flinched.
Lia felt the slow beginnings of anger boiling in her belly.
Between hearing the boys laugh and Chelsea's shame, Lia silently swore one thing: she wouldn't just feed from John Holiday, she would suck him dry.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Burn marks scattered across the surface of Lia's cinnamon skin, some pink, some an angry red. The worst of them lined her legs making it difficult to walk without the burning, tingling sensation shooting up the lower half of her body. This myserious woman with brown doe eyes had to practically carry her to safety. Questions with obvious answers made Lia's jaw clench and nostrils flare.
Of course she wasn't fucking okay.
The woman gingerly took Lia's wrist between her thumb and middle finger. With a gentle twisting motion, Lia's wrist rotated to and fro as her injuries were scrutinized, "Aren't you a succubus?" What was the first indication? The spiraling ram-like horns crowning Lia's head? The red eyes? The black bat wings that burst from her shoulder blades? Another obvious question.
"No, my mother just fucked a goat-bat hybrid," Lia spat out.
"At least these haven't hurt your sense of humor," came her calm voice with a wry smile, "I thought succubi could heal."
"Except when my power's been sucked away by mountain ash. Who are you anyway?"
"My name's Marin, and you?"
"Lia," she replied shortly with a resigned sigh. Her shoulders began to relax at Marin's doting as her hands gently moving away bits of torn clothing and gingerly smoothed straggled hair. Marin's calm disposition was a cool splash of water against Lia's anger, threatening to boil over.
"If you know what I am then why did you save me?"
Marin's eyes flicked up, unmoving and intense, "Because you've done nothing wrong."
Lia swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. She became quite familiar with the eyes of humans. She could see sizzling passion and smoldering lust, searing rage and heated jealousy, but pure honesty reflected in big, brown eyes was new. Pure honesty did not intend to hurt or take, and humans always wanted something.
That was part of the reason Lia stumbled into this predicament in the first place.
I started this blog a little over a month ago to write every single day and improve myself. Problem is, I'm a terrible procrastinator unless I really have a fire under my ass to complete something. School is excellent for that. Having friends that appreciate your craft is helpful too. It lights the fire, but I feel more that I bask in its glow rather than feeling the heat to complete something. I told my friend, Lauren, that I would write her a story, but I hit a writing wall and haven't looked back to my work in a month, much like this blog.
However, I read an interesting Tumblr post about what can make one a better writer, and this is immensely helpful considering that I feel like I've had the same writing style for about 6 years or so. I have probably changed, but since I don't have any actively critical eyes going over my work, I find myself in this constant loop of self-loathing, self-judgement, and stagnation. So, I'm going to try what Mr. Palahniuk has suggested. I will obstain from 'thinking' and I will unpack more. I will write at least 300 words a day up until Valetnine's Day since that put me at the six month point.
really hope will strive write so much that I will absolutely BURY this post. So please look forward to it. Also, it would help me out a lot if you tell your friends so I can get some unbiased feedback. Oh, and hold me accountable, damn it!