Spotlight & Excerpt: The Stories the Stars Tell + Giveaway

The Stories Stars Tell
C.L. Walters
Out October 13th 2020
Contemporary, Young Adult

Ever felt like the sum total of your choices have fixed your story in the stars?

For Emma Matthews, she feels like all of her choices are rooted in the fear of letting down her parents… God…of never being good enough.

For Tanner James, he’s wearing an identity he has created with his friends and their pact—Bro Code—fixed in sex, alcohol and bad choices.

Both are longing for a new story they look to one another to help them write.

Follow Emma and Tanner as they rewrite stories they thought had already been written into something new. To discover sometimes painful truths about love and identity.

About the ways that love can help us lose ourselves… or find ourselves.

How love can break us… or heal us.

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EXCERPT:

tanner

[…]I stood. “I’m going,” I told Griff, who had a girl sitting on his lap I didn’t know.

He smiled over her shoulder at me and presented his knuckles. The girl whispered something in his ear, and Griff laughed. She was attractive. Dark haired.

My mind drifted to Emma Matthews (which was strange since we weren’t friends). I’d seen her the day before with her friend, Liam, hanging a poster for some club or function in the hall after school, heads together about something. Under usual circumstances, I wouldn’t have noticed, but in this case, I had because I’d noticed Emma and how cute she was. I had noticed her for a while, but she was out of my league.

Emma wouldn’t be partying like this. She definitely wouldn’t be sitting in Griff’s lap, and if she were, it would piss me off, but I didn’t consider why. She was probably at home, doing something productive, like homework, or a group study session. Perhaps she was doing something fun and wholesome, like a movie with her friends. I wondered if she went to the movies. Though I wasn’t exactly sure why I wondered, because I wasn’t a big movie goer (too boring to sit in one spot for too long).

Why was I even thinking of Emma at all?

It wasn’t like we talked. Sometimes, I thought she might be looking at me in the cafeteria at school or in the hallway as we passed one another. Her pretty eyes always slid away, but they made me curious. What color were they? Was she just glancing at me, or was she looking? I used to think about her. A lot. That started in the eighth grade when she yelled at Cole Butler in science during a lab. She’d been so fiery and funny. The memory still made me smile. We hadn’t had many classes together — one or two, maybe — because she actually tried at school.

I shook my head to get my errant thoughts about Emma out of my mind. Leaving Griff and Wannabe Emma behind, I walked through the living room.

Deb stopped me with a hand on my chest. “Hey, Tanner. Want to dance?” An invitation.

The message was clear: I could have stayed there with her and gotten laid, but it made me tired. Instead I said, “I’m looking for Penelope,” and even as I said it, I was hoping she’d already left.

Deb shrugged, because that was as much as I meant to her. “Upstairs,” she told me and returned to grinding to the music with her group of friends.

I moved through the crush of people toward the stairs, even though I wasn’t sure why I was going through these motions. A different choice seemed an impossibility, though I couldn’t articulate why that was so. Josh and Danny were sitting in a group smoking weed, and they offered me a head nod as I passed. I gave them an eyebrow raise in return and started up the stairs.

Near the top, I almost tripped on someone sitting on the steps. “Whoa.” It was a girl folded over on herself, and because I’m not a complete douchebag, despite what I know has been said about me, I leaned down and asked her, “You okay?”

The girl tipped her head up to look at me, and suddenly, I was looking into the face of…

“Emma Matthews?”

She smiled, and it lit up her eyes — dark blue with swirls of gray — like stars in a dark sky. “Tanner James.”

“Are you drunk?” I asked. I was too, but not enough to help me forget that Emma was the object of my secret fantasies, along with the fact I’d just been thinking about her. I shook my head to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. There wasn’t anything in our experiences that should have contributed to our paths crossing, and yet, there she was, as if I’d conjured her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m feeling really good.” She smiled again, and I remembered feeling that smile in my stomach like a lead weight had melted into molten liquid.

“Why are you sitting here on the stairs?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“You.” She giggled.

That made no sense. First, why would Emma Matthews be at this party? Second, why would she be drunk? And third, why would she say she was waiting for me? I wondered if someone was playing a joke on me and even looked around, but it was just the two of us in the hallway. I slid down the wall and sat next to her. “You’re definitely drunk if you’re waiting for me.”

“Did I say that?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. That’s a secret.” She pressed a finger to my lips, and that touch dove all the way from the top of my neck to the base of my spine like I’d been zapped with electricity. “I’m supposed to find Liam.” Then she moved her finger from my lips to hers, her dark blue eyes — flecks of green and aqua too — never leaving my mouth. “Shh.”

My heart pounded in my chest, excited by the form her lips took against her finger. “Damn, Emma. I didn’t know you drank.”

“Me either.”

I attempted an inconspicuous adjustment of my pants, because I started feeling that tingle in my crotch and needed to calm that shit down. I chuckled, amused, because I hadn’t caught wood from just a look and a touch since I was, like, fourteen. I decided the honorable thing to do was help her find her friend, which led to the decision to dump looking for Penelope. I hadn’t really wanted to be with Penelope outside of sex anyway, and that left me feeling dirty. “Shall we go look for Liam?”

Her eyes roved over every inch of my face. She reached up and touched my lips with her fingertips again; it was tender. “You have a nice mouth, Tanner James.”

My stomach tightened. I tried to remember that reaction. It was a hungry craving, the anticipation of the satiation of a voracious appetite, but it was also so distant. I hadn’t been aware I’d been missing it until it resurfaced inside of me.

“You want to hear a secret?” she asked and leaned closer to me, though I had the impression she thought she was whispering. “I’ve wanted to try and kiss it.”

Her admission made me smile, and my heart thumped a little more. I realized that while I’d been fantasizing about her, perhaps she’d thought about me too. Knowing that made me feel buoyant. “You have? Well, I could remedy that for you, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t remember it. I would want you to.” It was a truth. I wanted Emma to remember me.

“I would,” she said, wide-eyed, and nodded. “I promise.”

I stood up, needing the distance, because I was afraid I might kiss her. As I did, she held my arm, and I almost toppled onto her. I self-corrected and took her hand to help her up. Once upright, she stumbled against me, and I caught her waist with my hands while her other arm wrapped around my neck. My heart was now knocking against the wall of my ribs. She was so close, so pretty, so pressed against me. I looked at her mouth, heart-shaped pink. She licked her lips, and my belly buzzed. I wanted to kiss her so badly, but I chickened out, which was part of why I didn’t; it also felt wrong on some level. I could take advantage, but I didn’t want to. On the other hand, I wanted to extend my time with her, so when I said, “Come on. Let’s go look for Liam.” I took her deeper into the house instead of down the stairs, which was probably the more likely place to look. I wasn’t being altruistic.

She put her hand in mine.

I noticed how soft her skin was, and I wondered about the rest of her.

“I don’t want to find Liam,” she insisted as we walked down the hall. “I want to wait for Tanner.”

“I’m right here.” I looked over my shoulder at her.

Her eyes brightened again, the outside corners scrunching with joy. “Oh! It is you.”

“How much did you have to drink, Em?” I asked.

She held up four fingers. “Two.”

“We should get you some water. Let’s find a place for you to sit.”

I started testing doors in the hallway. Honestly, on one level, I knew what I was doing. I wanted to be alone with her, even if I didn’t want to cheapen the moment. I think I justified it to myself. I needed to find her a place to sober up. Deep down, though, it was a lingering understanding of a latent wish buried in the darkness of my fantasies attached to what she’d said: Waiting. For you. You have a nice mouth. I’ve wanted to try and kiss it.

Emma Matthews was waiting for me.

The knowledge made my heart swell even if I couldn’t believe it. Even if I didn’t — couldn’t — trust it. I wanted to keep the idea close, to remember it, to hold it tight. I knew the moment this was over, it would slip away.

“Em?” I asked as I tested another door.

She made a moaning noise to indicate she’d heard me.

“Why were you waiting for me?”

“I like Tanner. I want to be brave.”

My brain wasn’t quick enough, because it was slugging through the marsh of alcohol. I understood what she was saying, but I didn’t quite comprehend it. “You like me?”

She nodded emphatically. “I saw him.”

“What did you see?” I asked her as I tested another door.

“He helped Connor. At lunch. I saw him. I see him. Everyday. He helps Connor.”

Lunch time. Connor Festner, a kid I help with his tray. Griff gives me shit for it, but Connor is pretty badass and probably beats Griff’s butt playing Duty online. Connor’s given me tons of gaming pointers.

She had been watching me at lunch. I’d known it. My expanded heart compressed, constricted in my chest with a pressure that somehow made me feel like I might be floating off into space without oxygen.

I tested another door. This one opened. The bedroom was empty, and I took a deep breath. Relief. “Here.” I helped her sit on the bed. “Let me have your cup, and I’ll fill it with water.”

She handed me her red cup, and I took it into the bathroom. I rinsed it out and put in water. Before I walked back into the room, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I stared into my own eyes and whispered to my reflection: “It’s Emma. Don’t be a dick.”

When I returned to the room, she was curled up on the bed, eyes closed. “Here, Em.”

She turned her head, looked at me and smiled as if it was the first time she’d seen me that night. “Tanner!” She reached for me, and I had the impression she wanted me to stretch out next to her.

Don’t be a dick, I reminded myself and helped her to sit back up. “Drink some water.”

She took a sip. “Liam says I’m dumb.”

“That isn’t nice of him.” Her statement annoyed me. I sat down next to her, suddenly absolved we weren’t looking for him.

She shook her head. “No. Not like that.” She stopped and took another sip. “Because I wanted to come to find you.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of everything.” She took another sip and then leaned her head against my shoulder.

I could smell her — a nice scent that was clean and slightly sweet, like vanilla or cotton candy. I resisted the impulse to press my nose into her neck to find out for sure, or to run my tongue across her skin to taste it. Instead, we sat like that for a long time — her head on my shoulder, my hands in my lap and my brain chastising me for smelling her like a freak.

The doorknob wiggled several times as people tested the door; I was smart enough to lock it. Habit. I tried to tell myself it was because I was trying to protect Emma from my reputation, but it was also the temptation to maybe just get to kiss her once. I didn’t make a move though, and that was unfamiliar — and kind of exciting — territory for me.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of,” I said eventually, ending the silence, and also because I wanted to know if she’d fallen asleep. I needed to keep my mind occupied with other things besides thoughts about kissing her. I was beginning to feel more coherent and sober.

“I told you. Everything.” Her hands flailed out, and when they settled, one landed on my thigh. My skin tingled under her touch, and heat spread like radiant light from a lightbulb to illuminate all the dark parts of me.

I swallowed and closed my eyes to focus on her words. The words. “Well, name me one thing.”

“Failure.”

“Everyone’s afraid of that.” I looked down at her hand. Casually rested. On my thigh. Emma’s hand. Her fingernails were painted a bright green and matched her hoop earrings.

“Disappointing my parents,” she said. “Disappointing God.”

I looked at her then, the candor of her statement running through me almost as hot as her touch. It wasn’t practiced. It wasn’t her act of being flirty or a ploy to seduce me. It was just an honest statement. Maybe I couldn’t relate to either of those, even if I wanted to. My parents were so blind to me outside of the tug-of-war they played, using me against one another. And God? Never experienced that in my life, unless having an orgasm counted as prayer. “And?”

She moved her head from my shoulder and turned to look at me. “Never kissing Tanner James.”

My stomach did another of those nose dives into my body, toward my groin. The heat of her hand still warmed my leg. I noticed her eyes, fringed in thick lashes, rove over my face. They came to rest on my mouth. Under different circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have cared and would have provided what she wanted. I wanted it — bad — but I’d found some weird sense of honor I hadn’t been aware I had. “I can’t, Em. You’re drunk.” These were those different circumstances. Emma represented a different kind of life I didn’t think I deserved.

“You don’t like me.” She moved back, slumped a little, her shoulders rounding, and folded her hands in her lap. “It’s okay.”

I missed the weight of her hand on my leg. “It isn’t that.” I leaned forward to try and meet her gaze. “I do like you.”

She sat up quickly, her eyes big and bright. “I got it! I will kiss you. Then you don’t have to kiss me. I’ll do the kissing.”

This made me laugh, because I thought it was one of the cutest things I’d ever heard. And she was so excited by the prospect, as if she’d discovered something new. I couldn’t remember having more fun on a Saturday night.

“Unless, you think I’m — ugly.” Her eyebrows arched over her wide eyes, but now she couldn’t look at me.

I shook my head. “Nope, Emma. I don’t think that. At all.”

Her eyes met mine again, and she said with a slight frown, “The easiness is wearing off. We better do this fast, before I come back.”

I scrunched up my face. “What?”

“If I come back–” she tapped her head– “I’ll be too scared. My head will get in the way. My bravery will melt off.”

“Liquid courage.” I tapped her cup.

She nodded. “I made a plan. I was waiting for you.”

“Really?”

“I, maybe, drank a little too much. Miscalculated.”

I smiled. “And you were waiting for me. Why?”

“To kiss you.” She laid her hand on my arm.

I took a deep breath, as if her touch returned a missing piece of my soul, and I needed to breathe it in. Her admission had me unbalanced, however. My usual practiced lyrics receded from the surprise. I’ve had girls try and lure me with their sexuality, but this? This was totally new. “Why again, Em?”

“Because I saw you. You helped Connor. That’s nice, Tanner. And I think it’s sexy. And I don’t want Keven Bennett to be my only kiss.”

I glanced at her mouth, thought about her kissing Keven Bennett, and was annoyed by it. Then I looked at my hands in my lap. She saw me not because of how I looked. It was because I helped Connor that made me sexy to her. It wasn’t partying or being drunk. It wasn’t a rumor that I knew how to have sex. It wasn’t being smart at school. It was because I’d done something unselfish. “Keven Bennett, huh?”

She wrinkled her nose. “He has a lizard tongue.”

I chuckle. “That’s not good.”

She adjusted her body. “So, is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Who would you be kissing? Just for clarification.” I was testing the truth, not believing it.

“Tanner James. You.” She faced me, drawing her knees up between us, where they pressed against the outside of my thigh. “I see you. I’m not that drunk anymore.”

Her words were enough for me to nod, to give myself permission to cross the line, and indulge my curiosity. “Yes. Okay.”

“You have to turn.” She directed me with her hands on my arms, turning me toward her but with her knees between us.

I watched her working out the problem, completely satisfied in the moment, enjoying her and her cute pout. Her dark, curly hair fell around her heart-shaped face as she looked down at our legs.

“This won’t do.”

“It does seem rather awkward.”

She stood. “Stand up.” She remained steady, the alcohol wearing off, and held her hands out to me.

I took them and stood. When I looked down at her, my heartbeat quickened. The movement of her eyes caressed my face, and for the first time, I understood what it felt like to be seen — really seen. For me, Tanner.  Not because of some rumor about what I could do, or because there was enough alcohol in my system to lower my inhibitions.

“Tanner?” She reached up and put her hands on my face.

“Yes, Em?”

“Can you bend down? Just a little bit?” She drew me closer.

I leaned forward, cataloguing all of her attributes. My heart went bat-shit crazy inside my chest. I noticed the width of her blue eyes, the fullness of her dark eyebrows, the way her bottom lip was a tiny bit fuller than the top, the way her pert nose was slightly upturned and kissed with tiny freckles that reached out across her cheeks.

I couldn’t believe she didn’t have a boyfriend. Did I want to be a boyfriend? Why was I thinking about that? I wasn’t boyfriend material.

Her gaze flicked to my lips — her tongue darted out to wet her own — then her eyes slipped up to my eyes before sliding shut as she pressed her lips to mine.

It was a gentle kiss, soft. Her mouth was warm and pliable against mine. My heart tripped into a more intense speed. Then her lips parted, and she used her tongue to coax me to be an active participant. As much as I tried to not be a dick, that was the last straw of my self-control. I answered the tease of her tongue with my own. Suddenly, where the kiss started as one-sided and tentative, it exploded, because my whole body was an exposed nerve ending. Every sensation — her hands in my hair, her mouth, her tongue, the whisper of her clothing when she moved, the soft noise she emitted because I became involved —was enough to light me on fire.

I’d dreamed of Emma.

I lifted her.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and hugged me closer with her arms around my neck.

Our tongues moved together, and it all felt like a first time. It was. With her. Exciting. Novel.

She moaned into my mouth.

I stumbled forward until her back was pressed against the wall and then my hands wandered, molded, massaged. I forgot myself. Just let go […]

 

Author Bio:

As a kid, CL Walters, world revolved around two things: stories and make believe. She’s built a real life around those two things: a teacher of stories and a writer of make believe.

With four books now published, she’s looking forward to her fifth release October 13, 2020, a YA Contemporary Romance called The Stories Stars Tell.

Sign up for her newsletter for news, goodies, and fun (www.clwalters.net)

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Pinterest

 

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Spotlight & Excerpt: Born at Dawn + Giveaway

Born At Dawn
Da’Valia Trilogy Book 1
by Christina Davis
Genre: YA Fantasy Adventure

 

When a heist goes terribly wrong and the binding spell holding 17-year-old Neva’s powers at bay is shattered, the half-human thief knows she’s in trouble.

Neva has always hidden her Da’Valian heritage while working risky jobs to make a name for herself and serving at her family’s tavern, but she won’t be able to hide much longer. She can either risk the safety of those she cares about or seek out her mother’s people to gain control over her emerging powers.

The Da’Valia are beautiful, brutal creatures created by the god of war, and the austere Da’Valian soldier Astiand reluctantly agrees to take Neva to his clan under his protection. She makes unexpected friends, including the handsome fighter Emiliand, and a new enemy in the clan’s ruthless leader.

Spying on her guardian, the sly heroine quickly discovers just how deep she has stumbled into a dangerous, developing clan feud.

Will she be able to embrace who she is in time to keep her loved ones safe?

This book is about a race of warriors and contains violent scenes, which may not be suitable for all audiences.
 
Here’s what early readers of BORN AT DAWN had to say…
 
“It’s so good!!! I’m slightly obsessed ♥ …I need more Astiand and Neva moments” ★★★★★
 
“I always wanted to read more and struggled to put the book down” ★★★★★
 
“I adored the book. It’s unique, and the characters are incredible.” ★★★★★
 
“The pacing of the plot was one of the things that impressed me when reading this book: from the high-tension beginning, to the way world-building details were strung seamlessly … every chapter left me eager to read more without making me feel as if I was being constantly strung along by cliffhangers.” ★★★★
 
 
**On Sale until Nov 22nd!**

 

Neva filled the bard’s cup, but she couldn’t force her gaze from the Da’Valia in front of her. Although his hooded cloak blocked his horns from the customers, her view allowed her to see each was as wide as her wrist at the base, pointed on the end, and black. Instinct told her his ears were molded pointy like her own beneath his unshorn hair.
“And you?” Neva pushed the words out, trying to avoid staring at the scar stretching from below his eye to his jaw.
He was fearsome, yet something about him resonated with her. She had never seen a Da’Valia other than her mother, but she had heard the stories of the male warriors. Her mother’s white skin had almost shone, but the males, the hilans, had not been born at dawn, according to the old stories. The hilans had been born at midnight.
“Of course,” the Da’Valia said, sliding his mug forward. His voice reminded her of a shepherd’s horn, deep and echoing through the mountains.
“Have you heard any news from farther north these past months?” the bard asked as she poured.
Neva shook her head. The more northern regions were so remote only miners with gold fever ventured there. Fewer still ever returned.
“Very little comes to the Pass during Fireside,” she said. “You would probably know of worthy things better than I.”
She spoke with the bard, but every part of her was alert to the Da’Valia. Mentally, she thanked Neil for warning her. As far as her uncles knew, she was entirely human, but the Da’Valia’s presence was intimidating enough.
The Da’Valia moved to pull his mug to him, but the edge of his hand tapped the ceramic, knocking it off the table. Faster than a human could track, Neva set down one of her pitchers and caught the mug by the bottom. She stopped its fall before a drop spilled. The action was pure reflex.
It happened so fast, the bard didn’t take notice, but Neva was aware of the Da’Valia’s unwavering gaze as she scooted the mug back into his hand. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the bard, yet instinct told her the Da’Valia was looking at her. Silently, she cursed her reaction to his clumsiness. It would have been safer to let it drop to the floor and deal with the mess. She knew better than to show her speed in public, but she was rattled.
The bard paused in his story for another sip of mead, and the Da’Valia took advantage of the moment of silence.
“Nevazhi,” he said.
“Aye?” she asked, keeping her eyes down, not wanting to look at him directly.
“I heard the customers call you that,” he said, wrapping his hands around his mug. “It’s an interesting name. How did you come by it?”
“Why, my mother gave it to me, of course,” she said, forcing a chuckle. Polite, not giving anything away.
The silence that met her response dragged, forcing her to glance up. Her eyes locked with the Da’Valia’s. Without meaning to, she held her breath. Maybe he didn’t recognize her for what she truly was. Maybe he was just of odd character.
But his next words shattered her hope.
“Nevazhi is a name in my family as well,” he told her.
“That’s interesting,” she spoke softly, ready to give her standard response. “But my mother was foreign. I suppose it’s popular in other parts.”
“No. It’s not.” The Da’Valia’s voice took on a hard edge.
Neva stilled like a child found out for lying. She swallowed hard. The bard leaned forward, sensing something was amiss.
“Indeed,” the bard said. “Nevazhi is an unusual name. I have not heard it in any of my travels, and I have walked to the far corners of the realm.”
The Da’Valia kept his eyes on Neva’s a moment longer.
“It’s of no matter,” he said to the bard, settling comfortably back into his seat. “Were she one of my people, she would not be able to deny who she is forever. Regardless, I’m sure the barmaid has more customers to attend.”
Neva nearly bit her tongue to keep from engaging the Da’Valia further. What choice did she have? To accept it publicly would be to invite judgment, fear, and hostility from everyone in her life. Something he couldn’t possibly understand.
“I should move on,” Neva agreed instead, gesturing to the next table.
“Aye, of course!” the bard agreed, nodding.
Neva obtained their coin before moving to the next table. They stayed for more than an hour, and Neva felt the Da’Valia’s eyes on her as they departed. As soon as the door closed behind them, she let out a lengthy breath. The Da’Valia had recognized her name and all but challenged her to admit her bloodlines. That scared her.
Neva stepped into the kitchen to collect herself. She had spent her entire life hiding the true nature of her blood, but for however long he was visiting Glacier Pass, the chances of her being found out were far greater.

 
 
Christina Davis was raised in the Santa Cruz Mountains, and she spent much of her childhood in and out of hospitals, embracing reading as an escape. After being home-schooled through high school, she graduated summa cum laude from San Jose State University and attended NYU’s Summer Publishing Institute before embarking on a decade-long career in journalism. She enjoys chocolate, cosplay, coffee, and board games, but not necessarily in that order. She now lives in beautiful Monterey County with her husband and daughter.
 

 

 
 
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$20 Amazon

Book Blitz: The Damned Society: Smoke and Mirrors + Giveaway

The Damned Society: Smoke and Mirrors
L. J. Elliott
Published by: Wallace Publishing
Publication date: November 17th 2020
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Lexia Luccen is a seventeen-year-old girl with a fiery power that is slowly destroying the last fragments of her sanity. Having lost her abusive father, Lexia is left scarred from the way he treated her and by the grief of his death. When she accidentally uses her ability to create a devastating explosion that takes many lives, she is moved from her life of solitude into the hectic youth facility that is Lucida.

Lucida is no ordinary youth facility. It is a secretly run technological agency for supernatural wayward youth, set up to teach them how to control their abilities after they have caused disturbances in society. These youths think that once they have been reformed, they will be freed. However, the truth is a very different story.

Lies, love, and more death await Lexia at Lucida, and she soon realizes that this facility is not quite what it seems. Now she knows she must make a choice: does she finally give up to the darkness that slowly consumes her—like her father did—or does she follow the firestorm that runs through her veins and for once in her life, battle for something?

Time is running out. Lexia needs to make her decision fast, before Lucida makes it for her.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Prologue

The smoke built around me with speed, carrying a taste of destruction as it vaped through my senses. The air gushed past my skin, getting heavier in pace with each breath I took. The smell of burnt paper lingering as it flowed around in the destructive zone that I was creating. I had never lost control like this before, yet at the same time, had never felt so happy about it. My mind was not instantly filled with regret or sadness at the fact I had let my power control me. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I was glad because it was the thing that ultimately helped me out in the end. For once, we had partnered up and were working together. I had never felt such strength from it before. It didn’t hurt, it just felt like it was a part of me now and like my power had momentarily become one with my soul. I closed my eyes and let the solidarity marinate in every moment we bonded together as I knew the feeling would not last forever and so, as I clenched my fists and the energy poured out of my body, for once in my life, I had no regret about harming something or about letting go of control. My mind and soul were finally free.

One

“Here we go again.” The words flew out of my mouth effortlessly as I heard my bedroom door crash open. My aunt entering the space with another look of determination to get me out of bed, crinkling her aged face. It was another episode of, Do What I Think Is Best For My Niece, Even If It Is Not. I threw my blanket over my head just as the morning sunlight bathed my room with a pool of golden radiance as my Aunt Sylvia stormed her way in and drew back the curtains almost viciously. Something she had begun doing every morning this past week to try and finally get me out of my selfcreated blanket cocoon. Instead of being happy another morning had dawned upon me, I dreaded entering the real world. As the golden shimmer poured through the cracks of my blanket, I wanted to hide further under my white cotton shield and just dissolve away into my mattress. “Aunt, get out. I want to sleep,” I grumbled from under the covers, even though I had a feeling it was going to be a waste of words today. I had pulled this trick too many times already. The game that was hiding away from my problems. “Come on,” Sylvia groaned back in her familiar stressed tone as I heard her feet shuffle across the wooden flooring and stop beside my bed. I dug further under as she suddenly tried to tug away my blanket and the sunlight spilled in even brighter around the space, projecting her shadow onto the floor with its illumination as my eyes started to peek through the cracks. “You are going to college today whether you like it or not. Now come on, you can’t afford to miss another day.” Silence lingered for a few moments before I felt a hand latch around the fabric above my head. The Damned Society 12 “Lexia, you are seventeen, not seven. I’m not playing this game anymore.” She tugged at the blanket edges even harder to try and snatch it away and after a few more annoying moments of fighting to stay hidden, she sadly succeeded and my barrier flew to the ground. I hissed like a vampire as the brightness that surrounded the room hit my eyes. I sure felt like one of late, seeing as neither my skin nor my eyes had seen the light of day since I had locked myself in my room for so long. Three weeks now and counting. The only times during that period that I did leave was when Sylvia left for work, after giving up on trying to get me out of bed. I would scuttle to the bathroom and then the kitchen to stock up on some food, with my blanket wrapped around me, continuing to be the shield that repelled away my reality. And it had been working—I wasn’t thinking of anything. However, given how oddly stern she seemed this morning compared to other attempts this week, I really did have a feeling my time of hiding from reality was up.

Author Bio:

Lotté Jean Elliott is an author from North-Eastern England. She began as an avid reader before she picked up a pen one day and started to use her imagination to create a new universe, just like her favourite fictional ones.

Through literature, she saw a whole new world open up, and she has not stopped diving into the deepest parts of her mind ever since.

When she isn’t writing novels, poetry, or screenplays with her sister Francesca, Lotté loves nothing more than to find inspiration for life through art films, music, exploring museums, and language learning. She loves to explore the deepest meaning behind things and gain new perspectives of the world in which we inhabit.

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