KidzTalk - Recent questions tagged #chapter1

The willow murders, chapter one (TWS IN TEXT)

Sat, 13 Sep 2025 19:18:02 +0000

[TW- murder *its a murder mystery*, grief, LGBTQ *Alfred, Lucia, Peirson* etc. I will make references of every character when I get to it)

Chapter one- Lucia and the willow tree

four months since Mira died

Lucia climbed the willow tree inside the depressed graveyard, where Mira was supposedly buried. Almost every night—on school days—, she would go visit Mira’s grave. Her grave was propped up by that old willow tree, so she would sit up there. It kept her covered too, especially that she’s not supposed to be there. Lucia would tell Mira about junior high, Zaine, their mom, and especially how she knows Mira isn’t dead.

“Do you know if that girl is gone yet?” Someone asked.

Lucia opened her droopy eyes, and noticed some sort of grey figure standing by one of the many tombstones. She tried adjusting her spot in the tree—trying to keep herself hidden—to get a better look. The figure was transparent… how was that possible? The voice also echoed. Was she lucid dreaming again..? She could see the figure had a fedora on, a fancy suit, and had a goatee.

“I don’t know, I’d assume so. She leaves around six pm sharp every day, I think.” Another voice—higher than the other one—replied. This time it didn’t echo.

six PM? What time was it now? Lucia checked her watch. 7:18 PM. She was late getting home. Mom was probably worried sick.

“Shoot!” Lucia tried climbing her way down the tree—still hidden. She successfully made it down, but now her problem was how she was going to escape. The willow tree only extended so far without her being noticed, maybe she could run as if her life depended on it? No, no- that’s not a good idea. Lucia crept to the other side of the tree to get another look at the people.

“I wish I wasn’t a ghost! I wish I were still sitting with my husband. Oh how I miss him dearly!” He cried.

“I know, Alfred. You tell me this every single night.” The second voice sighed. It sounded more like a feminine voice now.

“Yes, that is true, but you haven’t lost anyone that important to you, so you wouldn’t understand.”

“Alfred! Don’t you remember anything I’ve told you?”

“I remember your name, Peirson… that is about it…”

“Hmm, Peirson and Alfred.” Lucia mentally noted. She crept closer to get a better look at this Peirson girl.

Peirson had what looked like a messy afro, severely frayed jeans that must have been worn many times, and a dirty grey sweater.

As she moved closer, she accidentally stepped on a branch, blowing her cover.

“Who might that be?” Alfred asked, suspiciously.

“I’m not sure, I’ll go check it out.”

Lucia knew she had to move quickly to not get caught by ‘Peirson’ and ‘Alfred’, but what could she do? If she ran away, would ‘Peirson’ run after her? What if she was actually dangerous?

Too many thoughts filled her mind as Pierson crept closer. Lucia decided to run for it. She grabbed her messenger bag, slung it over her neck, and bolted. Her converse smacked loudly across the black pavement, as she ran as fast as she could manage.

“Wait! No come back, we– er- I just want to talk!!” Peirson shouted, stopping at the entrance of the graveyard.

“Lucia! Is that you?” Her mom yelled from the kitchen. A familiar aroma filled the air. Yesss! It's dumpling night.

“Yeah, I’m home.

“It’s so late, what were you doing?”

“Uhh- taking a walk?”

“For two hours?”

“I got lost.”

“Alright then, go put the bowl in front of Mira’s picture.”

“Fine.”

Lucia put her bag on the coat rack, grabbed the small ceramic bowl full of food, and put it in front of her sister’s photo. It’s been four months since Mira died, according to the news. The police stopped looking for her. Everyone assumed she was dead, except Lucia. She had to be out there somewhere, she’s too smart to have died.

“Zaine! Come on!” Anna—Lucia’s mom—yelled. Zaine was always in his room, and if he wasn't, he was out late. Every night when she couldn’t sleep, she could hear that rusty truck Zaine’s dad gave him, with the malfunctioning motor that broke almost every other week. Zaine and Lucia were distant, even more after Mira ‘died’.

Zaine crashed down the stairs and sat at the table. He immediately grabbed his chopsticks and dug in. “...What?” He said, with a full mouth.

“Could you have some respect?! None of us have sat down, and now we need to pray for Mira.” Lucia delicately pulled out her chair and sat down.

“Shut up Lou.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“Don’t talk to your sister like that.” Anna was the last to sit at the table.

The three of them all prayed and dug in, after Zaine.

“Do you think Mira’s still out there?” Lucia broke the heavy silence.

“No. The police stopped searching for her.” Zaine answered through mouthfuls.

“Yeah, but that’s because they never found her body, meaning she could probably be out there. Should we go looking?”

“She’s dead and you know it. Stop asking to go look for her.”

“So? Mira’s too smart to die.

“Lucia, listen to me closely. She has a grave. She’s dead. She’s never coming back.”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT?!” Lucia aggressively jumped up from her spot pushing the table backwards. Soy sauce dipped out of the small bowl.

Their mother was so quiet, and almost looked like she was numb. She had no reaction of what just happened. Lucia tried to eat fast so she could get away from Zaine, and finish her homework. She washed her bowl, dashed up the brown wooden stairs, closed her door and locked it.

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soooo what do you think? I'm actually SO excited to finish this and write it! I'l start working on chapter two more so I can post it :D if the times at the start of the chapter are messed up, I'm sorry! I'm trying to edit it lol.

HIM | Chapter 1

Sun, 13 Oct 2024 15:16:08 +0000

TeEhEe! This only took like what, 2 months to post?? Sorry yall. I hope you like it! I appreciate comments or critique! :))

Warning: This story is gay, don’t read it if you don’t like gay . It is gonna get a little emotional so I might end up putting a trigger warning on a “chapter” if it’s got something. And also future parts are probably gonna have internalized homophobia mentions!!

I’m putting these in chapters but they’re really just parts, I don’t plan to have a bunch of chapters like a book, it’s gonna be like 3-5 depending on how the storyline continues, and I’m just trying to space out it all.

[ IF YOU SAW MY ART POST: The pink hair kid is William and the other one is Bryce ]

Enjoy!

William has spent a week at his new school already, and yet he walked through the hallways completely lost.

Where’s the bathroom again?

He turns the corner, eyes darting side to side. Maybe it was behind me and I missed it? Agh, the teacher is gonna think I tried to skip. He clenches the bathroom pass in his hand, turning around and running straight into this kid. His eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards. He hadn’t even heard footsteps besides his own, and the halls were quiet.

“I’m so sorry!” William apologizes quickly, catching his balance, the bathroom pass completely scrunched by his balled fist now.

“Don’t worry about it.” The kid smooths down his black hoodie. William was almost positive they had gym together. What was his name? Benny? Bernard? Bruce? Didn’t matter. Seemed like a nice dude, at least. He keeps walking forward into the halls, around William with a smile and then walking to his class. William turns around himself, moving the opposite direction, praying he can find the bathroom less than 2 minutes, because he knows the bell is going to ring soon. What he doesn’t know is the kid, who’s actual name was Bryce, took another glance at William before entering his classroom, staring considerably a little too long.

William silently celebrates as he finally finds the bathroom, which for future reference to himself the upper level bathroom was in the middle of the second hallway on the left.

Bryce silently celebrates as he finally came in contact with William as the teacher continues the lecture him that he missed almost the entirety of class and that was unacceptable.

Small victories, but maybe they’ll play a big part in the bigger picture.

Wildest Dreams |Chapter 1

Sun, 25 Aug 2024 02:02:36 +0000

Eric's view

I lay on my bed, my face covered with pillow. I'm not able to stop my tears. Why? I'm remembering Joel. His bright blue eyes.. The way he would light up the whole room when he walked in. I start sobbing violently as soon as I imagine his face. And when I relive the accident.

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Joel Bryan Walker.

Everyone thought he was a happy-go-lucky guy. Its shocking, really. The way a smile can hide so much pain. Of course, I knew his true feelings. I was the only person he truly felt comfortable around, comfortable enough to tell me these things.

He told me his grief and his love for his late mother. She was a kind, humble, genuine woman, always putting others in front of herself. She had been driving on her way home from work, when a drunk driver slammed into her car. I remember the way I held Joel, shaking, as I stroked his almost white hair and tried to comfort him. And myself.

He told me about this jealousy he had of me. How I had a peaceful, loving, accepting family while his was broken after Tyla Walker, his amazing mother, had died. How his family resented him for being gay. Joel's WHOLE family, except for his parents, while my family all loved me the same as when they thought I was straight.

And most of all, he told me about his feelings towards himself. I was so surprised when Joel told me his self-hatred. He thought he was ugly. He thought he was stupid. He literally wanted to die. We hugged each other, sobbing, when Joel told me about all these intense emotions he was going through. I kissed him for the first time then. He looked so flustered, I would've laughed under different circumstances.

And, 4 months later, he did it.

It was his fault. He ruined my life. At least, that's what I told myself. I was walking to Joel's house when I saw him hanging out the window, holding on by a single, weak finger. I screamed and ran over to him.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I shrieked. His eyes fixed on mine. "I wanted to live my last minutes with my boyfriend."

His voice sounded quiet, faraway.

No. No, no, no.

Time slowed down. I reached for his hand and held on tightly, because his life literally depended on it. Joel's ghostly white face seemed to get even paler, the color draining from his skin. He smiled, almost manically, and leaned forward so his face was touching mine. His black eyelashes brushed against mine. He rubbed his free hand against my cheek and sighed.

I wanted to yell, shout, absolutely rage at him. I couldn't even move. "Just let me go, and I'll finally be happy." I finally found my voice. "YOU SELFISH EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN," I sobbed, "WOULD LEAVE ME? ALL ALONE? WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU? TELL ME! TELL ME!!" My voice cracked with fear and anger.

"Don't you want me to finally be happy? I am your darling, beloved, 'beautiful', best friend. More than a friend." The way he rolled his eyes at the end of his sentence shocked me.

I was at a loss for words. I snatched his second hand, this time by his wrists. Joel successfully twisted away.

"Eric, remember that I'll always love you. Forever. In life and death. This is for the best. I'll see my mama again." His eyes seemed to glisten ever so softly with tears.

He let go.

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My book (chapter one)

Mon, 15 Apr 2024 18:30:48 +0000

(Disclaimer this feature LGBTQ+ characters, Therians and the FBI, so if you aren’t comfortable with that you may click of this post)

(Keep in mind that this is all fictional)

Chapter one

I finished packing my bags, I put in all the essential clothing to last 4 or more days, I have a pink and blue backpack with a nonbinary flag sticker on the side of it.

I stuffed the rest of my things in, a phone, a book, three disposable water bottles , navigation gear and 50 dollars I had stolen from my parents. My parents were mean and abusive when they found out I was nonbinary they did some very bad things to me.

I stuffed my therian gear in, an extra pair of socks and my picture of my cat and me, I had dirty blond hair, white skin, hazel eyes and weird gold streaks in my hair that I was born with.

I silently tiptoed down the stairs and in to the kitchen where I stuffed my pouch with 3 apples, 6 granola bars, a half a loaf of bread and some cookies. I then silently walked to the fridge and took out 2 PB&G’s I had previously made. I then quickly filled up a water bottle, and checked the time 12:43, And then I left a note saying

Dear parents I have run away, I hope with all my heart that I never have to see you again.

I picked up my bags and left the house that I hopefully will never will see again.

And that’s the end of chapter one chapter two is coming soon!

Hope you like it! :DD

The Story I've Been Telling You Guys About :D

Sun, 31 Mar 2024 08:23:00 +0000

WARNING: This chapter is very long. If you don't like long things, this may not be the best for you.

Robyn's Flame

1

It was a quiet Sunday evening, and the moon was behind a curtain of clouds, peeking out every once and a while. The golden lights from towering buildings and their apartment juniors were shining brighter than ever. This was the calmest New York had been.

I was walking along a bridge with a girl I've known since we were both in diapers: Robyn, my favorite cousin out of the many I have. She was a fun-loving young lady with a heart bigger than the One World Trade Center, and truly a force to be reckoned with. I loved to spend time with her because she was one-of-a-kind, unafraid to be stubborn sometimes.

We stopped at the side of the bridge to gaze over the dark, whispering sea. It tore and repaired itself very nicely among the thrashing waves.

Robyn's voice was the first to break the silence. “How are things going at the office?” She asked without turning. I told her what went on that day: about how some guy was caught stealing from small restaurant, about how a case for a missing dog was solved, and about how some kids thought it was wise to scatter inactivated mini-bombs all over the station. She gave a hearty laugh at the last one.

She quickly recovered herself. “Sorry, I just can't believe how stupid people can be,” she smiled. I nodded in agreement, chuckling along with her. When her hazel eyes met with my brown ones, it didn't take long before we started laughing together, drowning the whole borough with our chortles.

After a few moments, we stopped to catch our breath. “How's home?” I asked her. Her face sunk a little. “As you left it,” she replied quietly. I looked down, not wanting to face what she meant. We stood mute in the busying bridge.

“Why'd you leave?” She cracked, her eyes reflecting the blinding moonlight. I was dreading that question—it had been asked one too many times already, every time having the same answer:

“I've always wanted to be a detective.”

But that was never good enough for anyone. Being a detective could be someone else's job, someone else's dream, but never mine. Anyone who knew me knew that I wouldn't settle for anything else.

I thought Robyn knew that. I caught her eyes, which slightly changed into a darker color like it always did when she was upset. Her natural tell. I could tell my response wasn't enough for her, either.

She sighed, reaching into her coat's pocket and pulling out a lighter. She lightly smirked when I took some steps away from her, alarmed. “I'm not gonna use it on you,” she assured. She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a small tin container, flicking open the lid. She let the lid fall and ting on the sidewalk.

The container had wax in it, obviously a candle. “You just keep a lighter and a candle in your coat?” I asked her. She didn't reply and instead clicked the lighter's trigger, unfazed by the quick burst of flame. She smiled. “First try.”

I watched as she brought the lighter to the candle, sharing the blaze with its tiny stick heart. She looked up at me, her face now reflecting the warm orange light. “To answer your question, no, I don't keep a lighter and a candle.” Like a magician, she pulled from the air and chucked another small tin can at me, which I just barely caught. “I keep a lighter and two candles.”

I stood there with the other candle on my palm, shocked. “What are these for?” I asked.

“You light that one,” she said, throwing the lighter at me now. I caught it without any trouble.

I pried open the container's lid, throwing it into the ocean. I lit the candle and gave her back the lighter, still confused. “Will you please tell me now?” I pleaded, getting a little annoyed at her secretive smile as a response. “Just hold our candles together,” she told me. Puffing air out of my nose, I reluctantly extended the hand that held the candle. She did the same, only she slightly put her candle on top of mine. Her flame suddenly extinguished and mine grew significantly larger. She gazed into my eyes, and this time, I knew she was going to talk.

“This means that our flames will be intertwined, and even when we're apart, I will never leave you as long as this flame lasts.”

The flame's reflection danced in her eyes as she spoke.

We nodded in a silent agreement, me tipping my hat off to her and her smiling her comforting smile. She turned and walked off. “Tell Uncle Lenny I said hello,” I called to her. She rounded, still walking, and assured me that she would.

I shifted my eyes to the distracting candle. Its inferno flickered from short to tall, swaying in all different directions like the water under the bridge. It reminded me of the fireplace in my family's luxurious Renaissance Revival-style mansion. One would think that I lived quite the life of luxury, which I did, albeit short-lived. My father would read to me in front of the crackling fireplace, while my mother was in the kitchen, cooking and chatting with the other relatives. The kitchen was far, so you couldn't really hear what the adults were saying.

I didn't want to know what the adults were saying. All I wanted was to spend time with my father.

I was sent to bed before he could finish the story, which annoyed me. My mother kissed me goodnight, and my father rustled my hair and promised me that we would finish the story morrow's eve. I was still grumpy, but I knew that he always kept his promise. I went to sleep as soon as they shut the light off and closed the door.

...And then I smelled smoke.

It roused me, blazing me with hot confusion. I flicked my tired eyes to the orange light seeping under the door crack. Thinking that the hall light was on, I turned over in my bed. I vainly tried to go back to sleep, but the wreaking smell of burnt steak kept assaulting my nose. I finally got up, sighing but found it hard to breath. Tired and fearful, I crept over to the door, slightly turning the doorknob with my tiny, sweat-drenched hands. The knob was scorching hot, burning me as soon as it touched my palm.

I ignored the stabbing pain, determined to reach the other side. Ripping open the door, I was horrified to find—

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Flash forward to the present, where I'm sitting in my Buick and staring off into the candle's flame as if I'm reading the daily newspaper. I flinched, glancing up to find a raggedy, middle-aged man with an ugly frown on his scarred face. His mahogany coat had off-color patches, matching well with the dirty black shirt under it. His thumb stuck out of his glove, and he looked like he'd just been rolling in mud.

He motioned for me to roll my window down. I did that, and he leaned forward, not losing the arched eyebrows. “This is my spot,” He said. I was confused, looking around him to see if he brought any friends of his.

“I didn't hear a question, bud,” I replied, knowing full well that he was going to get belligerent. I mentally scanned him for weapons, but he didn't look like he had any.

He exasperatedly threw his hands up, “I'm telling you to get out of my spot!” he shouted. I didn't want to poke the bear, but I was still lost on how this spot was his. He didn't look like the most patient guy in Manhattan, so I decided to leave it alone and pull down the gearshift. “Finally,” The guy muttered loud enough for me to hear. I scoffed, reversed, and made my way out of there with my foot smothering the pedal.

An unnerving feeling kept making its way back into my body. I felt like something was... off.

It could have been the fact that I was driving back home in the dead of night, or the fact that I still get flashbacks of a night like this from a ghostly memory. But maybe it's something that I try to stay away from... Something like my family.

There wasn't enough time to be my own therapist. It didn't take long before I arrived at the small apartment complex that I called my own little town, though I seldom interacted with any other tenants. It was a bit worn down, having vines from random places slowly slither their way around the building. Some bricks were a little frost-bitten from the cold, and you could tell by the rusty, mucky entrance that this was about as decent as you could get without getting a health code violation.

Nevertheless, it was what I called home. Ask me to leave, and I'd ask you if you had anything better to give me than a warm feeling of love and comfort in the small, imperfect things.

I stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind me. The cold wind immediately brushed my face, almost blowing my hat away. A part of me wondered where in the world that wind came from; it was as if a spirit had crossed by me in the most aggressive way possible. Even though I didn't believe in that stuff, it still gave me the creeps.

I didn't hesitate to hie up the cobblestone stairs. I promise, it was just because of the cold.

When I went to open the door, the knob was already turning itself, and the door revealed behind it a familiar face.

“Tony!” Shouted a jubilant Lawrence Rodney holding a bloody tissue to his nose. His rimless glasses were cracked on the left lens, corresponding with his violet-black eye. “I was looking for you!”

I nodded slowly, hopefully not looking too disgusted and confused at his appearance. He pulled me into the building with his free hand, kicking the door closed behind us. He lead me to the stairs, not saying a word but instead motioning for me to go up.

Being a detective for ten years, you get some sort of impulse or natural urge to question anything that's even remotely suspicious. I fought this urge, telling myself that there was nothing to question about Lawrence.

Besides, I always keep a weapon close if anything goes south.

I made it upstairs with him at my tail. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No signs of resistance of a victim, or any type of altercation. I examined the walls, floors and ceilings as if this were a case, but all I saw were the same old brown, popcorn walls that hid barely decent rooms behind them.

I twisted back to Lawrence, “What happened?” I asked promptly. His eyes flicked around for a moment, something I took as a sign to say that the next few words out of his mouth would be lies. “I don't understand what you mean,” he stalled, “I saw you weren't home, so I went looking for you—“

“Quit acting oblivious!” I snapped. He had the audacity to lie straight to my face while his was hemorrhaging. His expression laid somewhere between shock, guilt and a tinge of fear.

He adjusted his broken glasses, gazing somewhere past me for a moment, then looking back. “If you won't let off it,” he began, his voice falling into a whisper. I leaned in closer to hear him.

“...I fell down the first flight of stairs.”

I was stuck in the leaning motion, waiting for any chance of this being a joke. But no, his nasally voice didn't reveal anything more than a stupid little mistake. I slowly lifted my eyes to look at his, not hiding my deadpan glare. “You fell down the stairs?” I asked. He nodded vigorously.

My teeth got to grinding. I wanted to shout, 'Where'd you get that black eye? Did the stairs sock you, too?', but I didn't want to cause a scene. Sucking my teeth, I turned around, walking away from Lawrence as he called after me.

Honestly, if I wanted to deal with a liar right now, what would be the point of my day off?

As soon as I got to my apartment, I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it. I could still hear Lawrence's hollering voice trailing down the hallway, probably interrupting someone's beauty sleep. Sighing, I walked over into the big closet that I made my office. I found myself lucky, seeing that my apartment was probably the nicest out of the complex.

I crashed down on my squeaky, worn-down chair, letting out a stressed-out sigh that felt like a thousand pounds were lifted off of my chest. I switched on the lamp beside me and slipped a piece of paper from the giant pile resting on my desk. I wondered why my daughter hadn't come barreling in ye—

“Daddy!” I heard a little voice cry, followed by footsteps growing louder and louder until I could finally see my little girl dashing in, arms wide and ready for an embrace. Seeing her was definitely the height of my day.

She jumped into my arms, squeezing hers very tightly around my neck. “I missed you!” Said her muffled voice in my shoulder. “Daddy missed you too, Olivia.”

I softly extended her out from me so that I could get a good look of her face. She beamed that really great, toothy smile that makes all your worries fall away. I couldn't help but mirror her—but never in a million years would my smile be as cute.

“Can we play now?” She asked. Her eyes sparkled, and I held back my words, thinking about them very carefully. The papers on the desk weren't going to work out themselves by the next morning, dinner wasn't going to get made without a cook, and taxes were going to kill me if I didn't do them...

But why should that matter to her?

I sighed, smiled, and nodded away all of my adult problems. What's a half an hour of playtime?

And if you could picture the most blissful grin you've ever seen in the entire world... Throw that picture aside. Olivia had no rival.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to admit, playing with my daughter was the best thing I could've done.

We started by playing Tug O' War with a long blanket from the couch. It actually went on longer than expected, and I was very caught off by the strength of that little girl. As soon as we started, she yanked me from my stance and almost pulled me down.

I stood arched over for a few seconds, snapping to the conclusion that maybe... Maybe I really had to put some effort into this.

I rose my head and spotted her grinning face, her eyes filled with the shine of competition. The soft upturn smirk of her mouth, the slight crease between her eyebrows, the fire in her eyes... She looked like many of the women in my family.

By this time, I was up and putting a little more strength into my grip. It didn't take long before the blanket stopped moving no matter how hard Olivia tugged with her tiny hands. I could see the strain coloring her face a peachy red, guilting me into loosening just a little.

Next thing I know, my nose is one with the cold floor and my daughter is standing over me, giggling a storm. 'C:aught off guard' wouldn't even begin to describe my feelings at that time. 'Shocked' would strike close, but 'knock-down stupid' is all that raced through my head as I gathered myself off the floor. When I stood over her, she looked up at me with a smile that showed her toothless top front. “I won! I won!” She chanted, skipping circles around me.

“I shouldn't have underestimated you,” I admitted, hoisting her up into my arms.

We headed over to the fridge and ran through our dinner options. “Chicken?” I asked her, but she shook her head. I knew full well what she wanted from that fridge, and I stalled until the last option, suggesting sandwiches, pasta... Heck, I even went so far as to suggest waffles. All her answers were nos, and on the last one, she tilted her head and scrunched up her face as if to say I was the stupidest person on Earth. Now where did she learn how to do that?

I finally stopped messing with her and suggested her one and only favorite:

“Mac'n'cheese?”

Her face switched from heavily judgmental to sunshine within seconds, which brought a chuckle from me. I set her down and grabbed the mac'n'cheese container out of the freezer half. The frigid feel of the plastic sent shivers down my spine, catching me off guard. I was confused on why I was feeling extra sensitive to things today... It was like something was... off.

I shook off the feeling as I carefully put the mac in the microwave. I put the timer on for a few minutes, then waited, striking up a small conversation with Olivia. I asked how her day was, which she replied that it was an alright day. I honestly couldn't have related to her more when it came to that.

I leaned over on the counter. “Learn anything new?” I asked her. She seemed to rack her brain for a little while before doing her little goofy, happy face. “We learned about zebras!”

“Zebras are nice,” I replied as I took the creamy macaroni out of the microwave. Mac always tickled my nose in the most pleasant way possible, reminding me of easy Sundays and good memories. What, you thought I was going to say something related to actual food?

When I placed the mac on the table, Olivia stared deep into the creamy yellow delight with sparkling eyes. “Macaroni is nicer than zebras,” she said, claiming the first bite of her dinner. I nodded in agreement with that statement.

It wasn't long before it was time for bed. Olivia begged to stay up a little while longer, arguing that it was only 9:30. “You were supposed to be in bed by nine, chipmunk,” I told her, focusing on the coffee table behind her so that I could avoid her puppy eyes. As I stared at the table, a flashing memory reminded me about Robyn's candle, flickering its light inside my dusky car.

“Daddy, bedtime is for losers. Do you think I'm a loser?” She asked me, her head titled and eyes glistening. She liked to harmlessly manipulate me into giving her what she wanted, much like her mother. That's why being a detective comes in handy, because you always know how to respond to people like this.

“No, chipmunk,” I replied, “Bedtime is for winners who have won the right to rest. That's why you have to work hard: to get time for rest.” A smile overtook her face and she nodded, standing up from her stool and leisurely strode in the direction of her bedroom, going out of sight. “I'll be right there in a second,” I called, throwing my jacket on. I grabbed my hat and went straight out of the door with a mission to get that candle in the house. I chuckled at the thought of someone walking past my car and wondering why it was dimly lit by an out-of-place candle. They'd probably take a look around my car through the window or walk swiftly past to not get ambushed. Why did I mention that last part, you ask? All I'll say is this: anything can happen in Manhattan. Whether that be luring curious, unsuspecting people in with candles inside a car, or just snatch a person out in the open. There's a good chance no one will notice.

Once I got to my car, I fiddled with my pockets in search of my keys. Nothing ever got lost in my shallow pockets, except for the one thing I needed most. By the time it got to a few minutes of me fighting with my jacket, I was just about ready to rip it off and shake the **** out of it.

In this case, the **** would be my key, napkins, and snack-wrappers—oh, and my badge, of course. How could I forget the only thing that intimidates people about me? As soon as I flash my badge to a shady dealer, they act like they didn't just let me in on incriminating information. Average Tuesday.

I suddenly felt a tough shoulder bump into mine, knocking me over the side of my car. The man who did it kept walking, shooting me a side-glare from just under his shadowy hat. “Watch where you're going!” I shouted. There was a hesitation in his step, but he didn't stop. I watched as his figure disappeared behind the misty curtain at the end of the lamp-lit street.

That was the third time this night! Third time that I've gotten a spine-chilling feeling that something strange was going on under the stars. If I'm anything of a detective, I'll go follow that man down the street to wherever ghost town he disappeared to and get ambushed by the same people who might've hid in my candle-lit car...

I got the candle, headed back into the building, and waited for a few minutes. I didn't want to run into Lawrence again, this time telling me that he got a wound on his wrist from wrapping his watch too tight. He was a great guy, but he infuriated me with his lazy lies. If you're gonna spit fairies out of your mouth, make an effort.

Thankfully, the coast was clear of any bad liars. I dashed up the stairs and straight into my apartment, hastily taking off my jacket and hat. I hope Olivia didn't fall asleep without her bedtime story... I know it means a lot to her. This is one of the few times these days that I've been available to her.

Quietly, I crept over to her bedroom, peaking behind her door. Her eyes were half-closed and they gazed to nowhere in particular. She must have been dozing off waiting for my slow self to come read her a story. I chuckled softly, shaking my head and walking over to her bed. I sat down by her feet and watched as her little gleaming eyes flickered open, accompanying her tired, but smiling, mouth.

“I'm sorry I took so long,” I apologized. “You look really tired already... Maybe I should read to you tomorrow night.”

Olivia shook her head, “No, daddy,” she said firmly, “You promised to read it tonight. You say all the time that we can never promise tomorrow!” Our eyes locked for a moment, allowing me to see the soul of the maturest six-year-old I've ever met. A six-year-old that loved to use my words against me in a way that made me the proudest father on Earth. In a set decision's time, I immediately went in the tiny drawer next to her bed and pulled out her favorite bedtime story: The Very Hungry Caterpillar. She joyfully sat up in her bed.

“You know the rules, Pumpkin.”

She sighed, sliding back down so that her head was on her pillow.

I gave a nod, opening the book under the light of her table lamp. It was a little uncomfortable leaning in almost a zigzag-like manner, but the chair that was available was small and could only support the weight of a tiny plastic pony—and I don't think I'm a tiny plastic pony.

I began the story with the most soothing voice I could muster. “'One morning, the warm sun came up and — pop! — out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar.'” I snuck a quick glance up, shocked to see that Olivia was already knocked out, drooling a river on her pillow. I smirked, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. She slept so peacefully, like a leaf resting on top of calm waters in Autumn. Very poetic, I know. Maybe I should have gone into poetry. That way, my father's family wouldn't hate me.

Or maybe they would, I thought as I got up and turned off her lamp and walked out of her room. As I slowly closed the door behind me, I thought of how nice it would be to go to bed right now, maybe drool rivers on my pillow. I was honestly considering becoming a poet. Poet's don't have paperwork, and they're winners. Winners who've won the right to rest.

I headed back to my office, collapsing on my loud, hard-cushioned chair. Thank God I don't have back issues, otherwise I'd have to spend some tax money on replacing this soft brick disguised as a seat. I will admit that the chair felt extra comfortable this evening, especially the cushions that were hard any other night but as soft as a cloud right now.

I suddenly felt myself jolt to keep from drifting off, knowing that I couldn't blow off doing this paper... paperwork... Did the room get quieter? I don't remember it being this cozy, either. It was the perfect temperature between not too frigid and not too sweaty.

And the golden light shining off of the papers looked hazy now... It was as if I was being gently pulled through a bright misty field... Bringing me to a small wooden house. And the small wooden house on the mossy hill was getting closer, taking me back to when I visited my grandparents' house in Venice. Their house overlooked a grand, beautiful field of emerald.

Without another thought, I had surrendered to sleep. But I wasn't really surrendering. I had gone off to become a winner.

D-Day Chapter 1

Wed, 20 Dec 2023 01:54:57 +0000

11 year old Thomas was not really interested in the trouble between Germany and America but the one thing that scared him was that his older brother mike, had joined the war and the worst part was, He was a paratrooper! The reason why it was so bad was because the people in Thomas's small town had been speaking about a battle brewing up in Normandy, and Thomas was scared for his brothers life and safety. He was afraid he would never see his brothers face again but as his mind swirled... He fell asleep

My Dimension (chapter 1.1)

Wed, 18 Oct 2023 04:19:05 +0000

I run through the forest, lost, trying to find my family. I yell for them, but nothing happens. The trees start moving around me, caving in towards me, saying they'll get me and-

   My alarm starts blasting, and I reach over to shut it off. Maybe just a few more minutes of sleep. I need it, but at the same time, I don't know how many more of these bad dreams I can handle. They're every. single. time. I go to sleep. Always something about being separated from my family and the people I love.

   After lying around for a few minutes, not being able to sleep, I start contemplating my life. I live in Ocala, Florida, I'm 16 years old, my dad's from Sweden and my mom's Thai. I have a friend named- Wait, go back a few thoughts. 16? That's old. I feel like a grandma at the moment, but even grandmas can't catch a break sometimes and have to get ready for school.

   I eat breakfast, get school clothes on, brush my teeth, and finish getting ready for school. School. My most dreaded place. School is assuredly the root of my anxiety and all my problems in life, so if I ever cause you problems, blame it on school.

   I start to walk out the door when my mom calls me, "Sonja, did you take out the trash?!" Oh. The trash. Right, today is Friday. I sigh and reluctantly take out the trash and my mom reprimands my "rotten attitude." Before I can walk out the door again, she kisses my forehead and I give her a hug. While sometimes my mom doesn't always make me feel like the most ecstatic person, I still love her.

   I get in my car and start driving to school. I just earned my driver's license a few months ago, so I'm still getting the hang of things. A few times I've almost crashed, but I didn't, so it doesn't really matter, right? I do a little karaoke while no one else is in the car. I mean, why not? If I'm going to sound like a dying donkey, it may as well be now.

   Eventually, I arrive at school, aka jail for kids. I walk in to perceive the wonderful sight of snobby teenagers who side eye me as I walk the hall. Ever since I started going here, people either ignore me or look at me weird. Is it because I'm the only introvert in a pool of extroverts? To be fair, most of them are involved in drugs and all that, so maybe that's normal for them to look at me weird? Sometimes, I just feel like people either pay no attention to me, or they give me the wrong kind of attention, like how someone spread a rumor about me stealing some girl's expensive perfume and I almost got expelled (even though I didn't do it). I think everyone here just… doesn't get along well with me. I guess everyone except my friend, Lucas. Lucas and I have been friends since third grade. We always partner up for projects, and I'm glad to have someone who isn't revolted at the sight of me. I've been friends with Lucas for quite a while now. From third grade to eleventh. Wow. I'm still in shock that I even have a friend, though even me and Lucas don't always get along sometimes.

   I walk to my first class, US history. I find history extremely vapid and uninspiring, but I work through it. I see Lucas stroll in the room from the corner of my eye. He waves at me, and I wave back. He sits down in his seat and starts studying. He's usually not the type to study, so I'm slightly surprised. I look at my homeroom teacher, Mr. Lee, who's writing something on the board. I try to make out the letters, which I should be using my glasses for, but I don't like the way they fit on my face. I eventually make out what the board says. "Test Day." Oh shoot. Test. Test that I didn't study for. Test that I completely forgot about. I'm already in a bad mood, and it just got worse. Well, I give up. I'm going to fail it anyway, so what's the point of studying? I rest my head on my desk until class starts.

   I go through history class… and take my test. I already know that I failed, but there's always next time to study. I go through the rest of my classes, and the day seems to get slower each hour.

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I haven't written anything in sooooo long, so it feels nice to do this. I felt like chapter one was really long, so I split it up into two parts! I'll post the next part right after. The story is a little boring right now, I know, but trust me, it will get more interesting. I already have everything planned out, and there's a lot that's gonna happen. Bear with me, okay?

Alr, I'm gonna go post the second half now, and please vote for how long you think the length of the chapters should be!

-Nayeon

Everpane: Chapter 1, Book One

Tue, 19 Sep 2023 19:34:55 +0000

Chapter One

May 20, 1801

The sun was beaming down on fresh grass. War was a tornado that had destroyed all organic land in its path, leaving the citizens to start anew. Even if it was decades ago, the damage that had been done was everlasting.

America had been standing on its own for a while now. The people were grateful to be rebuilding land on such important soil, soil that had witnessed the countless battles that inevitably shaped this great nation. Yes, this was their home. And it was going to stay that way.

Jobs were starting to get a little less hands on. Innovators of all kinds were beginning to create technology ahead of their time, laying down the path for the future success of their country. Others enjoyed making people happy, so they started a bakery of sorts, and stores that supplied the great needs of their community. Many reminisced about the cold past, constantly bringing up to their grandchildren the struggles they had to go through just to create a union bigger than themselves.

Sebastian Everpane was lucky enough to have grown in a society that was post-war. He saw the few decades of an independent country, and he saw how it was affecting people economically. They needed help and he knew it, with every bone in his body.

"A house?" Asked the skeptical construction man, "What makes you think you can build a house? You don't even have the money!"

Sebastian looked down at his shoes that had blotches of dirt on its tips. "Do any of us have the money?" He asked softly. The worker frowned.

"I am trying, just like everyone else here, to build a new nation. I may be 19 years young, but I know what I am doing!" He said. Sebastian and the worker looked at each other for a while. "And what is a kid like you going to do with a house as large as this? How is this going to help the country?"

"You must wait and see," Sebastian assured. "I promise you, if you help me, the reward you'll receive will be unrivaled."

The worker decided to take a chance on this young man. "If you declare," he said, and, without another word, he turned to his coworkers. "We shall begin the foundations immediately!"

A wonderful smile beamed on Sebastian's face, as he knew this was the start of an eternal, powerful empire. Such ambition would make his forefathers proud, he thought as he walked away from the construction site. He thought of coming back tomorrow, perhaps overseeing all the building process and watching it transform. That would most likely make him extremely impatient.

"What is a little impatience when you are building man's greatest empire?" He whispered to himself.

He walked forward, off onto the city he would one day make his. His smarts and persuasion inevitably shaped his prosperous future.

End of Chapter One.

wooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—

*eghm*

Sorry for that x3

Whatever "that" was.

Hoped you liked this first chapter! I don't really know if I like it as much, it definitely needs more work but I've been having brain farts ever since I started so now probably isn't a good time to go over it any further.

Now GC has another story he can add to his collection of stories that he references in his posts! Jk, he doesn't have to do that

Welp

That's pretty much it!

Love ya'll,

nobodyimportant out—

Someone help me out of the cupboard under the stairs that doesn't exist