This is sorta like the house of night series. (Exept way better! Jks) It's about this girl who- yeah when I try to write a summary for it, the first thing I think about is the house of night, so yeah imagine the house of night turned into the -like- house of faeries! Sorry I suck at summaries so plz dnt kill me! And plz read I'm desperate, it's my first stroy on here! And if you dnt read, it'll slay you1 And if you do read it'll slay you anyway, cos it's that good! Yeah you heard it here first f
I struggled to pull my limp body across the wet floor of the disused warehouse bathroom where I had woke up, the lights were of but through a box window above a cubicle I can see the moons light shining through onto a small patch of crimson liquid which covered the base of the room, my hands groped around for something solid to hold onto but could only find a red sticky liquid that clung to my hands and clothes, the wet on the floor should be a crimson thick fluid that I would hate to touch but the solution that was covering me wasn’t something I would hate touch it was something I loved I shouldn’t though I shouldn’t, especially with what it was, what I thought it was, what it shouldn’t be, it wasn’t, it couldn’t be, my whole body shuddered with the thought of what the juice that my body longed for most probably was
My whole body craved for it I felt I would die without it, it couldn’t hurt to taste it, could it? Nobody would mind...no-one would know...would they? I felt my tongue crawling out of my mouth and sliding down my face it licked my wet, matted hair and...then it touched it the salty liquid that was causing my whole body to shake with joy as I realised I had found the best thing in the world, but then I realised something was wrong, very wrong. I felt my eyes snap back in my head and then every vein in my body shuddered violently as they started to thump as my heartbeat started to get faster and faster, the thudding inside me got so fast that I thought my heart was going to take off and fly away, just as my heart reached the pinnacle of the thudding the noise suddenly stopped taking the pain in between my two lungs with it...then...there was nothing.
No sound whatsoever inside me the beat of my heart, gone, my heavy breathing, gone, I could think. The thudding of my heart no longer took up every thought in my mind, and now there was silence. And it scared me and the only thought that occupied my mind was the prayer that filled every corner of my mind. I was hoping, praying that something would make a sound; someone would come, walk into this bathroom and find me.
But no-one came here.
It was closed down 50 years ago.
Along with the whole neighbourhood.
No-one lived here...my thought pattern got slower...no-one came here...except me...no-one would find me...I would be here forever. And then it dawned on me why my heart had stopped, I didn’t breathe, the deafening silence, I was going to die, suffocate and I knew why and I didn’t care, all I cared about right now was the air I was desperately trying to inhale, I wanted to breathe so badly that the fight for air became so important that I forget how long I had gone without air, and survived. I realised something massive, yet didn’t want to accept it. I couldn’t accept it. I mean how could I tell everyone when I got home, “Oh hey everybody! I’m a ...”
I can’t even think it so how could I say it?
I’d stopped fighting for air I knew that much, I knew I was going to die and I knew that I had made the worst decision of my life and knew I was going to regret it.
And then I remembered they don’t need air, well that what all my books say anyway, but that’s fiction, right? I slowly got up trying to realise what had happened to have all this...Blood... here, had I killed someone? Where would I go? What would I do? What did I look like?...What did I look like? I turned around and looked at what was left of the mirror,...had I wrecked that as well as the rest of the bathroom? I saw someone’s skin, I saw someone’s lips, I saw someone’s hair, I saw someone’s face, I saw someone’s blood, I saw my eyes.
My eyes. The same piercing blue that I had before I become this familiar stranger. Yet this stranger seemed so familiar. Like when you see someone in a crowd, and you swear you know them because they are so familiar yet you obviously don’t. Well, that’s me the familiar stranger. It’s not me, but it is. Then the questions again.
I felt my hands feel up to my ears, and felt the points that had developed there. They were pixie points. I was a pixie and I was beautiful. Apart from the fact I had pointy ears, I was now a different species and I was a familiar stranger. Yeah, apart from that I was beautiful. What used to be filthy, golden brown hair, was now clean shiny golden hair, what used to be spotty greasy too pale skin, was now smooth spot free olive coloured skin, where chewed up too short discoloured nails were, there were now perfect sized smooth nails. My eyes were the same magnificent sky blue, yet there was something different, there was an elegance to my stand, I stood on the balls of my feet and no longer on the whole foot, I didn’t fell as though I was unbalanced and I was going to fall over, I twirled around and watched my hair spread out as though I was flying.
This imposter was not me.
But it was.
And then I remembered, I was one of them now. I was a beautiful mythical creature now, wasn’t I? But why me? Why did they choose me? I mean you read about things like this happening, but the people who are chosen are always those brainbox kids or some sort of popular sporty kid. But seriously though, me? I’m not particuly good at anything I’m average really, I don’t excel at anything, I’m not good at sports. I’m definitely not popular. I’ve got no magyck connections at all!
But I could...I know my foster parents don’t, but what if my birth parents did? What if I did? What if I was magyck? I guess even if I was magyck it can’t stop my foster parents grounding me, or getting mad that I’ve been “chosen”! But there’s nothing else I can do except go home and hope for the best. So that’s my great plan, go home and hope for the best...
Don’t ask me how I got home I just did. I ignored the whispers and cries of shock that escaped peoples mouths as they saw my face, and controversed over how beautiful I was. I think. They probably could of definitely been whispering about the fact I was covered in blood. Probably. Definitely. But I bet they was gasping a little bit at how beautiful I was. A teeny bit. Not really. And that’s why I ran the rest of the way home and why I was crying as I burst in through the back door of our house. And probably why mum started crying when she saw me too. But not for the same reasons.