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by Emma Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Other · Action/Adventure · #1912140
Just a snippet of the book I am writing.


  Jace:

He leaned against the tree, waiting; feeling impatient today, agitated for some unknown reason. The seconds ticked by slowly until; finally, a shrouded figure appeared in the distance. It took him a second to realize that this wasn’t the usual messenger. This one was smaller, and its skin was lighter. As it got closer, he gasped, despite himself. It was a female this time, only a year or so younger than him. She had blond bangs covering her eyes, only her sapphire colored lips were visible. She wore a billowing blue cloak, and her feet were bare. “Your feet will freeze,” he blurted, not thinking straight. She smirked, her shrill laugh ringing out and echoing on the trees.

  “I didn’t come here to discuss my health,” her voice like nails on a chalkboard. He fought the urge to plug his ears, and took a step forward.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked formally. She merely laughed again, this time it was an octave too high for his ears, for anyone’s ears. She took a small step back though, which gave him a slight advantage.

  “I came with a message from my queen,” she said, her voice changing from snide to adoration when she mentioned her ruler.

  “Go ahead, tell it to me. Then get off my land before I slaughter you,” he spat with malice and revulsion. She smiled, as if his resentment pleased her. It probably did.

  “She wants you to know that she has her weapons, just like you do. The only difference is, she knows how to use them,” she said, stepping backwards with every word.

“Yeah, tell her I said to go to hell,” he called out as she started to disappear.

“Duly noted,” she whispered, and then was gone.









Audrey:

The train was almost here, only five more minutes. But that was five more than she could spare. Anyone in the train station could be a monster in disguise, trying to kill her, waiting for the right moment to slit her throat. She tapped her foot, counting each second as it ticked by slowly. Audrey racked her brain, trying to remember what the Banshees could do, in case they found her.

Illusions, that was it. A banshee could make you see something terrible; but it would only be a mind trick. She'd never experienced it before, but she'd heard tales of how awful it was. It had been known to drive people insane, make them do whatever you wanted.

She paced back and forth, trying her best to look normal, to blend in with the passersby. She wasn't some fairytale beast; she was human. It gave her an advantage and a weakness. The patrol officer started to stare at her suspiciously, and she went into hyperventilation mode. Quickly, Audrey sat on the bench again and began to think of happy thing to calm herself down. She started humming a song from her favorite movie, The Sound of Music and was instantly at ease. All of her thoughts began to melt away, to shrivel up into little paper balls that she threw away in her mental garbage can. A loud crash broke her concentration; someone had dropped their things. She sighed, standing up, and began pacing again. What was taking the train so long? It had been ten minutes, twice as long as it should've taken. Slowly and cautiously, she made her way over to the ticketing counter.

"What time does the train going to Maine arrive?" she asked, her voice cracking.

The man mumbled without looking up from his newspaper, "It's not comin'." Audrey stood there, frozen, completely taken aback, and completely vulnerable. She’d assumed the train would be there without any issues.  After a few minutes, she managed to snap out of it, shuffling back to her bench.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She sat there, muttering to herself about stupid train schedules and cancelations; while a Banshee sat across the station, watching her.





Jace:

  He sat hunched over in his throne, his head propped up on his hand. Stifling a yawn, he tried his best to pay attention to the whiny peasants. There seemed to always be something wrong, something he had done or was going to do that upset them. His thoughts flickered momentarily to his dagger, and how long it would take him to kill them all. No more than a few minutes at the most. He was vaguely aware of the fairy talking to him, complaining about its home being demolished by a giant.

  “Mmm, of course,” he murmured, his voice dull and bored. The fairy seemed to realize this and became angry, speeding up its talking and raising its voice.  He merely laughed and snapped his fingers once, and all was silent. The fairy’s head joined the rest on his growing collection, and the next “person” stepped forward.

    It was a Banshee, foul and covered in warts. Jace wore something similar to a smile on his face; Banshees could always be counted on for a good piece of news.

  “What is it?” he inquired, his careful tone slipping and revealing his interest. The Banshee only smiled and held out one gnarly hand.

Jace cursed inwardly, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to show interest or the Banshee would demand money, and now it was too late. He went quietly into the other room, and returned with three gold pieces, the size of quarters.  The Banshee pocketed them quickly and cackled to itself softly.

“I have some news for you indeed, my lord,” it spoke, leaning in closely.

Taking a deep breath, it whispered, “We have found a girl in the mortal world. Her heart is as red as roses, and her soul is as black as coal.” This piece of news was hardly worth the gold he’d given, and the king felt cross.

  “Why would I care about a senseless insignificant mindless human girl,” he spat with rage.

  The Banshee saw this and began to laugh softly, so quiet it might have been the wind blowing through the trees. “Would you like to see this girl, my lord? The hatred and loathing within her matches your own so well,” it leered.

  “Maybe she will be a nice snack for me. I haven’t had a human soul in at least a week,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Bring her in.”

The enormous doors swung open, as the guards brought the mouse to the lion.

© Copyright 2013 Emma (lilacenraged at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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