It. Was. AWESOME.

Valerie is made of creativity, fried food, and lightning. With a dash of the South. By Nightfall

[authorkrysejay]

Step into a world of elemental magic, where a kidnapped princess meets her match in the one keeping her captive.

Phoenix Caged is a dark romantic fantasy and second book in the Hiraeth Song series.

Available now! On Amazon, Barns & Noble and more!

[planetofsnarfs]

A.I. tried to recreate gymnastics and gave us a Lovecraftian nightmare of unimaginable terror

ALL HAIL OCTOBUTT!

[myothertardisisonthemun]

This is the ideal gymnast body. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like...

[so-much-to-read-deactivated2025]

Natalie M’phylgwnth from Carcosa just finished her beam routine, which has left another judge screaming and blind. We’re going to take a break as they look for another volunteer.

[atalana]

[naamahdarling]

One just turns into 8 girls.

[felan-daris]

To all who support writers and artists by sharing their creations

You’re not suck-ups for reblogging, or annoying us by sending asks.

We see you. And your support means the world to us.

Thank you.

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 10: Brother Mine

Jesse squinted up at the apartment building, the glossy, glittering wonder of metropolitan style. The polished windows of the tower reflected all the lights of the skyline as well as the late twilight hue, looking itself like an extension of the sky, grounded in the middle of Redwood city. 

The residual heat of the day hadn’t yet left the ground Jesse walked on, but he couldn’t wait until full dark. He’d hardly rested at all during the day, anxiously anticipating this visit. He knew it wasn’t exactly fair of him to hold such a disposition toward his own brother; Louis had reminded him on more than one occasion that it was a rare and lucky thing for a creature like himself to still have a living family, someone to endure forever with. If it was anyone other than Luther Rayne alone, Jesse would have been grateful, happy even. But his brother was all he had left in the world, and on his darkest days, he wished that it was not the two of them.

As he rode up the elevator toward the penthouse, Jesse mentally prepared himself for the conversation that would ensue. He didn’t know if his mental exercises did any good, but he liked to think that if he went into the situation with his wits about him, he was less vulnerable to Luther’s power. He knew his brother would never mean to hurt him, and maybe Luther wasn’t entirely aware of the extent of his reach every time he opened his mouth, but Jesse wasn’t careless enough to think he could ever let his guard down. 

The penthouse doors opened, and his brother stood waiting for him just on the other side. Luther was dressed in his casual slacks, white button-down shirt, his golden blond hair neatly arranged in a classy style. Jesse looked practically shabby in contrast, even though he was wearing crisp new jeans, shoes of a fine make, and a blue collared shirt. He supposed he could have done better with his hair, but the more he fretted over his appearance, the more he felt like he was submitting himself to his brother’s inspection like he had when he was a child and Luther was in charge of him. That was a lifetime ago…many lifetimes. 

“Brother,” Luther greeted, grinning from ear to ear in a way that showed off his pearly white fangs. He opened his arms wide to Jesse and said, “Come, give us a hug.”

Jesse felt the effects of the compulsion pulling at the edges of his mind, and being aware of it helped him to get ahold of it. Stepping forward relieved the influence just enough to give him the strength to shoot his arm out, offering a handshake in place of a hug. Luther laughed, full of humor at his little brother’s show of self-control, and shook his hand. Jesse, being the only man or creature capable of resisting Luther’s power, never failed to amuse him. 

“Very good,” Luther admired, holding onto his hand as he beamed with pride. “Maybe this time you’ll beat me at a round of chess, eh?”

“Next time, Luther,” Jesse said, reclaiming his hand in a way he hoped didn’t seem too hurried. “I intended to pay a visit once things had settled, but there’s a mild emergency, a time sensitive one, and I could use your help.”

“I see,” Luther nodded. He motioned for Jesse to follow him further into the apartment, and Jesse complied of his own free will.

As they made their way into the living room, Jesse cast a critical eye around at the fashions his brother had adopted since the last time he’d been there. He noted that the living space didn’t seem very comfortable with its stiff leather furnishings and oddly shaped accent pieces, but it was certainly modern, fresh out of a Rich Douche R Us catalog. Floor to ceiling windows offered a grand view of the city skyline and the ocean horizon a few miles out, the glass bracketed by curtains dark and thick enough to block out the sun for the daylight hours.

Luther made for the corner of the room where he kept a well-stocked personal bar, and there by the glittering bottles and crystal glasses stood the only other inhabitant of the apartment. She was a woman of just over thirty years, by Jesse’s estimation, with unkempt mousy brown hair that hung in a single layer about her shoulders and a vacant expression on a face of sickly ashen skin. She wore a pink satin bathrobe over her thin frame, the material sliding off of one shoulder as she worked to polish a glass with a clean towel.

“Gretchen, we have a guest,” Luther announced as he moved to stand behind the bar, forcing the woman to skitter back and out of his way. “Go put on some clothes.”

The woman, Gretchen, met Jesse’s eyes curiously. A spark of something like recognition crossed her ghostly face as she gazed at him, taking in his features that looked so much like Luther’s. Her mouth hardened into a firm line, her shoulders instinctively squaring in a defensive set even as she had no muscle left to back them up. Setting down the glass she had been polishing, she pulled her robe tighter around herself, revealing the faded edges of old hunter’s tattoos up past her elbows, before quickly leaving the room.

“Ah, my tenderhearted brother, don’t trouble yourself over it,” Luther said reassuringly for the look of concern on Jesse’s face. He pulled up two fresh tumblers to set on the bartop, then served them each from an elegant decanter full of burgundy colored liquid. “She knew the law, and I still chose mercy. I think we’re both quite satisfied with the arrangement.”

Jesse kept his mouth shut long enough to swallow his retort about Luther’s definition of “mercy”, choosing instead to take a long sip of his drink while he thought better of his words. When he was able to filter some of the judgment out of his voice, he asked, “You’re not worried about keeping one of them under your own roof? I’d be sleeping with one eye open if I were you.”

“Worried? No.” Luther raised his glass to his lips, unable to hide a private, knowing smile. “No, I have her well in hand.”

A shudder of revulsion shook through him as Jesse was able to imagine all too well what he meant by that. He didn’t want to think of that poor woman forced to be a prisoner in her own body, animated only by Luther’s power and his deranged whims of fancy. Whether she broke the law of his territory or not, Jesse highly doubted this punishment fit the crime.

“I heard you had been to the house recently,” Luther said, effectively redirecting the conversation toward something he probably deemed more palatable. Jesse accepted the change reluctantly, forcing himself to remember that he had come here with a purpose. “I was surprised; that shack isn’t suitable for my little brother. I would be glad to have you stay here during the course of the repairs, but if you want my advice, that place ought to be torn down and forgotten.”

“Does this mean you have thralls in Jericho?” Jesse asked, a frown suddenly creasing his eyebrows. His gaze subconsciously flicked over toward the hall where Gretchen had stolen away. “They wouldn’t happen to be of the barking variety, would they? Something that could be misrepresented as…well, a puppy?”

“Who can remember? It’s been too long,” Luther said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And of course I’ve had eyes on the house. It may be a scar of history, but it’s our history, and I prefer to know the comings and goings. For years it’s just been kids throwing their little parties, or the authorities coming to lock it up again, so you could imagine my surprise at hearing that my own brother had gone home.”

Jesse went suddenly rigid as a disturbing thought struck him. “If you’ve been watching the house, you already knew about my homecoming?”

“Are you asking if I know about the hunter, or the girl?” Luther asked, his head cocking sideways to gauge his brother’s reaction. Jesse, to his credit, schooled his features to conceal his alarm. “My thrall reported that the hunter attacked the girl, there was a fight, and now he’s dead and you aren’t. Is that what you mean?”

Not exactly. There was far too much out in the open for his own comfort, but at least Luther hadn’t mentioned Jensen Calloway’s name, or the part that made him truly nervous, the thing he had mercifully kept from Evaine. That could only mean that the thrall watching the house didn’t recognize the hunter, or didn’t fully comprehend what had happened. He knew he had to tread carefully, redirect his brother’s attention so Luther wouldn’t think to compel the full truth from him.

“You can understand why I wouldn’t want this to be common knowledge,” Jesse confided, earning the nod of understanding from Luther that he had hoped for. “I’m trying to settle in peacefully, and I wasn’t expecting this to follow me from Boston. That hunter made a real mess of my front yard and almost killed the neighbor. I can’t afford to rebuff every attack if they keep coming, so I need to put a stop to it.”

“And this is what you’ve come to me for,” Luther concluded for him. “Tell me, just what is my baby brother asking of me?”

The effect of the direct order was immediate, and Jesse practically had to choke the words down before he went spilling everything. He broke down the urge to comply into the bare necessities, chose his words carefully, and didn’t speak until he was truly ready. Luther waited patiently, watching Jesse’s efforts with an amused smirk on his face.

“I need to know if Margaret Jameson is in town,” Jesse said slowly, chewing on every word. “She’s the only one who can call off the hunters. If I could talk to her, just make her listen for a minute, I know I can get her to back down.”

“That’s my Jesse for you, so trusting and optimistic,” Luther said with a melancholy smile, almost as if he was disappointed in him. “Be at ease, you don’t need to worry about Miss Jameson or the hunters. I was alerted the second she arrived in the city.”

Jesse’s stomach dropped—he really didn’t like the sound of that. His whole purpose for even being there was to get ahead of the situation before it spiraled out of control, and his brother had an uncanny knack for adding fuel to any fire. Jesse was almost too afraid to ask, but Luther answered for him without being prompted, confirming his worst fears.

“I’ve taken care of everything.”

[magickrosegalaxy]

Source

[valerienrhapsody]

Sup cuties

I have a story that I've been working on literally since highschool and was considering getting it conventionally published, but right now I just want her to be read and enjoyed more than anything. So below the cut find chapter 1 of By Nightfall, and I'll post further chapters under the same tags

thanks love ya byeee

Prologue

The monster house, as the locals liked to call it, was the last relic of a time when Jericho County had dreamed of being a center of booming agriculture for the state of California. Old Jonah Rayne built the place from the ground up with nothing but his bare hands and a sturdy hammer, or so he would say to anyone with an ear to listen. It was his one crowning achievement, he would boast; “The most perfect thing I could ever create, aside from the children, of course.” A home built with love and for love, and the start of what should have been a glorious legacy to carry his name through generations. 

After the Rayne family massacre, with none but a few distant relatives to claim the inheritance, the agricultural land was divided and sold at auction. The  living quarters intended to house the estate workers eventually sprouted into the quiet little town of Jericho, and the Rayne property was reduced to the last five acres sitting at the end of Richmond Avenue and the old family home that had once been so dear.

Years became decades, then centuries, in which that house succumbed to its steady decay, a shadow of its former beauty with a sagging foundation, more holes in the roof than swiss cheese, and a small jungle growing out of the front yard. After an incident involving a curious child and an unstable staircase, the house was finally condemned as a safety hazard. Of course, that did nothing to stop the kids around town from breaking in, daring each other to face the ghosts of a butchered family whose name had been long forgotten. It was always the same song and dance: a new layer of graffiti and trash, and then new boards to seal all the windows and doors, rinse and repeat. So went the cycle of the monster house.

It was a night at the end of a long, dry summer that Jesse arrived, the first Rayne in over two hundred years to step foot on the property. The wrought iron gates guarding the path screeched against years of built-up rust, and it gave him the eerie sensation of being screamed at. Go away, the house told him. Let the dead things here rest in peace.

Still, he pressed on, his steps crunching on the gravel pathway that was the only walkable area not swamped by weeds. He ripped at the vines and brambles blocking his way up the porch, and two steps up the structure found his foot crashing right through to the ground.

The boards covering the front door gave Jesse the most trouble, layers upon layers of planks haphazardly nailed across the frame and decorated with weather-beaten signs warning away intruders. He tore down what could be removed by hand, then came at it with a running start to beat the door down with his shoulder.

Dust flew everywhere, catching the moonbeams streaming in from the hole in the roof over the foyer. A draft ran through the darkened halls and empty rooms, rattling old piles of trash and empty drink cans, and from somewhere deep within, the house groaned its objection to the disturbance.

Jesse echoed the sentiment with a low groan of his own, swatting away the dust and cobwebs hanging in the air. He gave up his efforts with a resigned sigh as he took in the grimness of his surroundings.

“Home sweet home.”

Chapter 1: Last Friday Night

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Evaine walked down the road toward home. It was a sign that fall was on the way, and with it came the first muggy, overcast day since summer ended. Patches of thick clouds traveled overhead, scattering the sunlight in uneven rays like curtains opening and closing over and over again. The heat warmed her enough to work up an uncomfortable sweat as she walked, but the breeze that affected the air so turbulently was just cold enough to bite at her cheeks and chill her toes. 

Fitting, she thought, as the gloomy sky mirrored her foul mood. A perfect little cherry on top of an already miserable day that was barely halfway through with her. Most days she could deal with the usual dull grind of high school life, the loneliness of having nobody to sit with at lunch, or the frustration of trying to make nice with people who made no effort to hide their disinterest. 

But today, oh boy. Today she had been asked to read her paper aloud in English, and the whole class kept on talking like she wasn’t even standing there, red-faced and stuttering in front of everybody. The teacher just had her sit back down before she was even finished so they could move onto the next presentation. Today Tanner Humphreys “borrowed” her favorite pen in math and straight up ignored her when she asked for it back at the end of class.

Today she had missed her bus home because her history teacher made her stay late to discuss why she was already failing barely two months into the semester. For almost twenty minutes he droned on about personal accountability and how colleges would certainly not be impressed by such a track record as hers, and wouldn’t she be so embarrassed if she wasn’t able to graduate with her senior class?

And so she had missed the bus, leaving her to walk home in this miserable weather while she stewed in her foul mood, and it was made all the worse by knowing that she had no one to blame but herself. Her fault for giving up on her grades, for trusting Tanner to give the pen back, for not speaking up during her presentation.

So lost in her own moping, Evaine was taken by surprise when she looked up and realized that she had walked all the way to the end of Richmond Avenue. Any other day she would have crossed the street to avoid being so close to the monster house; she didn't like the way its drooping porch looked like a downturned mouth set in a grimace and the boarded windows like eyes permanently sewn shut. That place had always given her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies ever since she was a child, and standing at the gates as a near adult was no different.

Evaine quickly tore her eyes away, as if staring too long would make the house aware of her presence, and turned to cross the street with a renewed pace. She knew there was a faster way home, just past the end of Richmond where the road turned into the dirt walking path through the Jericho woods. That way would lead right right up to her own backyard in half the time, but it would also take her so close to the monster house that she could see into those holes that the patchwork couldn’t quite cover, and then she would have to face the creeping feeling that if she could see inside, then maybe something inside could see her, too.

No, she would always choose the safe, reliable path of the sidewalk and the extra five minutes that it added to her route.

When she finally reached home, trudging across the lawn that was still yellow after such a dry season, she was met at the driveway by her mother’s car pulling in. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her mom to come home early on Fridays, letting her attendant, Parker, close up shop so she and Evaine could catch a movie or get dinner together. What was out of the ordinary was Evaine making it home from school a good half hour later than the bus drop off time.

“Running late?” asked her mom as she stepped out of the car, bringing with her the smell of moist fertilizer that seemed to waft straight from her overalls. Evaine doubted that her mom had a single item of clothing left in her closet that wasn’t stained by dirt and leafy smears of green, but the “bringing your work home with you” jokes had gotten old a long time ago. 

Besides, it wouldn’t matter if she was wearing a burlap sack or a glittering ball gown; Mary Dawson was the most beautiful woman in the world, and it was so unfair to Evaine who felt like a toad in comparison. Her mom had the most lovely honey blonde hair that she usually kept pulled up in a working bun, but feathery little wisps always found their way back to her face. Evaine’s own hair was so red it could warn away predators, and an unruly mess of curls to boot. Her mom’s eyes were a soft blue, bracketed by little laugh lines that did nothing to detract from her natural glow, while Evaine’s were brown over much darker skin that still bore the freckles from summer. Her mother had the kind of warm smile that could turn anyone into a friend, and it lit up her face as she greeted her daughter.

“Yeah…I need you to sign something for me,” Evaine confessed, choosing to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. Her eyes remained shamefully glued to the ground as she reached into her pants pocket where she had folded up the piece of paper from her history teacher.

Her mom accepted the paper with a bracing sigh, walking on toward the house as she read, her frown deepening with every word. Evaine unlocked and opened the front door for her, and they both stood in the foyer for a long moment of tense silence while her mom finished the scathing review of her academic progress.

“Well, it’s not exactly a glowing letter of praise,” her mom said, making a generous effort to not sound too disappointed. She set down her work bag and went to pull a pen from the entryway table. 

“I don’t know what to say…” Evaine mumbled, feeling even worse for the mild reaction, if that was even possible.

“Look, I’m not about to stand here and yell at you about how you’re better than this and there’s no excuse for laziness,” her mom said as she handed back the signed paper. “I had a hard time in high school, too. I was unfocused and too naïve to think about my future in any realistic way, and every time my parents yelled at me or tried to punish me for it, I just hated school more and more. So, I’m not going to do that to you. E, I know you’ve been having a hard time, and senior year is enough pressure as it is. All I want is for you to do your best to get through it, and just try.”

“I know, it just feels like this year is the hardest it’s ever been,” Evaine admitted, hating the sound of self-pity in her own voice. She folded her arms across her chest, willing the frustrated tears to stop stinging at the back of her eyes. “I mean, everyone else is talking about college and career paths right now, and I’m just sitting in class every day doing all this work that just feels so pointless and exhausting when I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself when it’s all over.”

“Hey, getting stuck in a bad attitude isn’t going to solve anything,” her mom said with a voice that was anything but berating. She pulled Evaine into her arms for one of those soul-mending hugs that never failed to chase the clouds away. “Listen, just get through this year whatever way you can. You know I’d prefer it if you got a diploma, but even I had to settle for a GED. Once school is over, you can come work with me at the shop and take general classes at the community college until you pick a career path. Believe it or not, senior year is not ‘do or die’ for your future. I think once you start to live your life outside of high school, you’ll find your way.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Evaine said, puffing out a breath against her mom’s shoulder, wishing she could be that hopeful for herself. For now, all she had was the gnawing guilt that made her feel worse for letting things get this bad. Needing a change of subject before her bad mood could drown her completely, she disentangled herself from her mom’s hug and forced a smile. “Were we going to do something tonight? Is that why you’re home early?”

“Actually, the ladies from the community garden are getting together for dinner,” her mom explained with an apologetic wince like she knew Evaine might’ve gotten her hopes up. “Do you want to order a pizza? Should I bring something back?”

“Nah, I’ll pick something up,” Evaine replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, refusing to let it show on her face that she indeed had gotten her hopes up. “If you’re going out, I think I’ll go to the library or walk around the plaza for a bit.”

“That’s the spirit! Get all dolled up, see what kind of trouble you can get into,” her mom encouraged with a playful wink, the kind that said she was only half joking. Her mom-humor was the contagious kind, and despite herself, Evaine began to feel a little better.

Her mom’s version of getting ready for a night out involved showering, blowing out and curling her hair, painting on a light layer of makeup, and donning the sleekest black dress in her closet that she held onto just for such occasions. In the same amount of time, Evaine paced back and forth from her closet to her laundry hamper, regretting the fact that she hadn’t bothered to pick up anything nice during her yearly school shopping trip. After spending way too long struggling to make a decision, she finally settled on a pair of jeans and one of her newer graphic tees. Just to feel more dressed up, she laced up her red sneakers instead of the black ones. Sneakers, because of course she would be walking for the rest of the night. In the muggy heat and icy wind. Again.

She went into her mother’s room to give herself a final look in their full-length mirror, feeling reasonably satisfied with her work. The shirt was smooth and unwrinkled, her jeans were worn in and soft, and her sneakers looked clean and well cared for. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail in anticipation of a breezy night, and gelled down as much of the frizz as she could manage. It wasn’t the same level of style as she’d seen the other girls at school wearing lately, but if tonight was the night to try her luck and maybe talk to somebody new, at least she wouldn’t be too self conscious.

It was a nice thought, but it lasted for only a moment before her mother came to stand beside her to use the mirror as well, fluffing out her sculpted curls and fixing her dress. Side by side, all Evaine could see was what set them apart from each other, and her heart sank with the familiar weight of disappointment. 

When she was a child, she used to ask her mom if she would grow up to look like her, like all these things that made her different were nothing more than growing pains to be overcome. Even after the truth had been explained to her, she would still daydream about waking up one day to find that she had magically blossomed into that version of herself she always wished she could become. If only she could be a little more like her mother, she would think in those critical moments, if only she could be prettier, more charming…then her life could really begin. People would look at her and pay attention when she talked, and they would call her up and invite her places on Friday nights just because they enjoyed her company, and she would be such a good friend to have.

It took a long time for her to understand what it meant to be adopted, and many more years after that to accept that the face she saw in the mirror was the only one she would ever have, that there would never be a fairytale moment to turn this pauper into a princess.

It was still muggy in the late afternoon as Evaine and her mother both set out for the evening, but at least the breeze had carried away the darkest of the clouds, freeing the sun to cast its long shadows across the front lawn. Her mom gave her a ride into town, thankfully saving her from having to walk the first half of her trip, and she was dropped off at the steps of Jericho Public Library. The two wished each other a fun night, and after a slew of reminders from her mom to be careful and to try to be home before dark, the two parted ways.

From her first steps through the library doors, Evaine could feel all the tension and stress of her day finally beginning to release its hold on her. Here, where the air smelled like paper and ink and those scented candles the librarian kept on her desk, where the only noise was the soft flutter of pages being turned and polite whispers being shared back and forth, here was where Evaine found joy more than any place in the world. Once she had tucked herself away in her comfortable little reading corner, things like the self conscious worries over her looks or of being friendless and lonely simply didn’t matter anymore. 

Her favorite spot in the building was the set of twin chairs by the window overlooking Jericho Plaza. They were a faded sea green with brass nail embellishments, mismatched with a little chestnut end table and vintage reading lamp between the two. From there, she would be able to watch all the lights come on at sundown, making the little town look like a fairy wonderland.

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Evaine looked up from her book to find Alec, the assistant librarian, staring down at her. He was an older man of about forty, although she could have sworn he’d clung to thirty five at least three years in a row. He had dark and weathered skin which bore the marks of a lifetime of hard work, and a layer of gray peppered stubble all across his chin. His face was set in a permanent sort of scowl that belied the kind man underneath, and when he laughed he looked like a wrinkly bulldog. As per usual, his work boots and jeans were just a little wrinkled with bits of dust and paper scraps clinging to the fabric, and his flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows where the edges of some faded tattoos could be seen. He was the everything man around here, just as likely to be found working on maintenance as hunting down late fees. 

“Hey, Alec,” Evaine greeted, bookmarking her spot in her latest selection so she could give him her full attention. “What’s up?”

“Your waitlisted request finally came in,” he announced, setting a new book in front of her. “Actually, it came in last week but Miss Evelyn hasn’t been shelving the returns since her cat’s been sick. I’m just getting around to it.”

“Thanks, I was wondering about that,” Evaine said, picking up the book with a grin. She looked around at the other books she had collected for the afternoon and realized she would have to sacrifice one if she was going to be able to carry them all home. Oh well; Friday night problems.

“What happened to movie night with your mom?” Alec asked, pulling up the reading chair just across from hers. From the chest pocket of his flannel shirt he pulled a little baggie of peanuts and began to pop them with loud, open-mouthed crunching. 

“It turned into ladies’ night with the gardening club,” Evaine explained with a shrug she hoped looked more careless than she felt. It would just be too pathetic to admit out loud that she was lonely because mommy had more friends than her. “I figured I’d just read for a bit and then go pick up some dinner. You have any big plans for the weekend?”

“I’m actually making the drive to Redwood City after closing. My cousin Maggie’s there for work, so we’re getting dinner.”

“That should be fun,” Evaine said politely, secretly disappointed that even Alec, the only person in town with fewer friends than her, had plans and someone to hang out with. “Hey, can your stop by Rosita’s Bakery on the way for me? Bring me one of those colossal cookies.”

“Chocolate chip or peanut butter?”

“Ew, peanut butter’s gross. Chocolate chip.”

“You better wash your mouth out with soap; don’t talk about my peanut butter like that,” he warned, wagging a finger at her until she started to laugh. “And stop that laughing. Don’t you know we’re in a library? Gonna get us arrested.”

Of course, that only made her laugh harder, and he shook his head to hide his own satisfied smirk. Evaine had always thought that Alec wasn’t like most people, never brushing her off or making her feel ignored. He treated her like she was a person, like someone who was worthy of his time and friendship.

From a few aisles down came the sound of a loud CRASH, the resulting tumble of books, and someone doing their best to whisper a slew of curse words. Alec grumbled to himself and began to stuff the peanuts back into his shirt pocket.

“Guess that’s my cue. See you later, kiddo.”

“Have fun at dinner,” she called after him as he half-ran toward the crash.

Evaine spent the next few hours reading and enjoying her own company right up until the library closed promptly at six. It wasn’t quite nighttime when she stepped back outside, but the clouds made it dark enough for all of the lights of the plaza to come on a little early. 

It seemed as if the whole town was out that evening, strolling among the shops and enjoying the relief after another hot day. Evaine took her time walking the plaza pathway as she debated her dinner options, moseying through shops with clothes she knew she would never buy and hobbies she wished she had the talent for. While it was nice to see everyone out and enjoying themselves, it never failed to leave her with a melancholy pang in her chest. Just for once it would be nice to have somebody to walk around with, talk about the latest school gossip, or get their opinion on whether they should eat tacos or pizza.

She could feel that bad mood from earlier threatening to rain down on her as her thoughts took a sour turn, so she made the quick decision to just grab dinner from the nearest restaurant and head home. It was one of her favorite burger joints, busier than normal with so many people out enjoying the first night of the weekend, so by the time she got her white paper sack of food it was only a few minutes away from full dark.

She hurried to start the trek home, sorely wishing she had left more books behind at the library as they were now weighing her down. The journey back usually took a good thirty minutes along the sidewalk path, and she made it almost ten before she started eating her fries right out of the bag. She humored herself as she walked with ideas for what she could do with her free time tomorrow; she’d been meaning to organize the junk drawer in her desk, or maybe she could watch a movie and do her nails, or more likely just binge read everything she had just checked out…

Nearly home, Evaine turned to cross the street, headed away from Richmond, when there came a sound from the roadside shrubbery that made her halt in her tracks. It was a rustling of the dry bush leaves followed by a mewling little whimper, a small, distressed sound, almost like that of a puppy to her ears. 

A stressed pang of sympathy in her heart made her turn toward the sound, seeking it out, as she could picture all too well the image of a sad little face, hiding itself from the big scary human towering over them. She imagined how it might have gotten lost or been abandoned, just crying out for its mother or for some food, or for a comforting touch…

“Hello?” she called in her most non-threatening voice, leaning down to make herself smaller and less intimidating. She beckoningly clicked her tongue a few times and held out her hand. 

The rustling scampered from one bush to another and around a corner, like it was frightened and trying to get away from her, but then there was a small snap like a breaking twig and a much sharper cry.

“What’s wrong?” she continued to coo, following the sound. If the poor thing was hurt, there was no way she could just leave it behind. She had to see if it was alright, see if there was a collar or tags, maybe even walk back into town to drop it off at the vet’s office. She reached into her bag of food and pulled out a fry as bait, holding it out toward the bush.

When she was met with nothing but silence, she could only frown at the spot where she’d heard it last.

“Hello?” she tried again, straining her ears to listen. Still there was nothing, no breathing like she would expect from a wounded animal, no rustling or movement to be seen. Even the breeze had come to a momentary standstill, making the quiet all the more pronounced.

It was only then that Evaine realized the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She looked around and saw with a wash of dread how far off the path she had gone, carelessly following those cries for help. Down the road and around the corner she had gone, blind to anything but that sad little cry, and somehow wound up walking right through the opened gates of the monster house.

Startled by the sight of it looming ahead of her, she took a few quick steps back, looking all around to confirm that she was alone. She looked up at the house itself, saw that the front door which had been closed that afternoon was now an open void of darkness, and her heart leaped into her throat.

“No no no no!” she shook her head, taking a few more steps backward. The fear shot through her chest like a frozen knife, and a taste like acid bile rose in her throat. Whatever instincts she had to mind her safety were suddenly awake and screaming at her to turn and run.

A hand grasped her by the elbow and she yelped with surprise, whirling around. It was a man, standing where there had before been no one, his face cast in the darkness of dusk so that she couldn’t see who it was. She attempted to tear her arm away, but the grip that held her was too strong. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, using his overwhelming size to crowd her vision, blocking her path for escape. 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Evaine squeaked helplessly, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to see through the dark for any means of escape.

“Come on, you need to leave.” He started to drag her toward the gate, but he didn’t get more than two steps before he froze in his tracks, the hand on her arm tightening painfully. His head slowly turned to look down on her, and when he spoke there something gravelly and hateful in his voice. “Dammit…one of them. Say goodnight, freak.”

Before she could even inhale from the shock, his other hand smacked into her neck and locked on. With little effort on his part, he squeezed until Evaine’s panicked breathing was cut off, and pressure began to build in her head making her ears ring and her lips feel puffy. The muscles of her throat struggled to work against the imposing force clamping her airway shut while her hands flailed desperately to fend him off. She pounded with her fists, scratched at whatever skin she could reach, but nothing could deter the man beyond a small huff of irritation when she drew blood. 

Still she fought, thrashing against his grip, until her vision swam with a blackness that crept up from the corners of her eyes and the last of her strength was finally used up. Her hands fell away from where she had been trying to pry him off and her knees buckled from beneath her, leaving her whole body weight hanging there by her neck. 

The last thing she heard as the darkness took her was the slow, unburdened breaths of her murderer.

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 2

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 5

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 6

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 7

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

[vile-lithium3]

[norsesagas]

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 9: The Dawson Daisy

Evaine was lost in thought, much as she had been all morning, when she was meant to be sweeping the shop floors. She normally liked visiting her mom’s gardening store, helping out with what little she could do. Stocking and shelving were pretty boring tasks, and she was hopeless at processing online orders, but she enjoyed working with her hands and taking care of the actual plants. Any other day, she would have been perfectly content to be there with the music playing over the loudspeaker and the light chatter as her mom and Parker helped customers.

But today was a day unlike any other, try as she might to put on a smile and carry on. Today, she was seeing the world in a new light, a glaring light that illuminated things that ought to stay in the dark. Today, she had watched out the car window a little too eagerly as they were driving into town, just to catch a glimpse of the monster house. Jesse’s house, now. There had been at least three different company vans parked in the driveway, and numerous workers scurried about the grounds, but not a single hint or remnant of what occurred there last night.  Her mother had been quick to notice the hubbub around the house which had been deserted for her entire life, and Evaine feigned ignorance on the matter. She couldn’t even begin to explain if she wanted to. That was only one of the many things swimming around her head, keeping her distracted as she halfheartedly went about the tasks she usually enjoyed.

“Uh…excuse me.” Parker, her mother’s only employee, brought her back to reality. He stood over her by a fair few inches, dark brown hair falling in the way of his glasses, dirt smudging his nose and forehead from where he’d tried to brush it away. His arms were full of soil sacks as he tried to squeeze past her down the narrow aisle where she had been standing like a slack-jawed zombie.

“Oh, sorry,” Evaine said, stepping back to let him through. Besides “hello” that was the first time Parker had spoken to her all morning, having busied himself with the physical work and heavy lifting while her mother ran the front. It wasn’t like she had expected anything different as he seemed to be the only person in Jericho who was more awkward and shy than she was. 

“E,” her mother called from the front desk, motioning her over with a wave that made all the decorative pins on her smock jingle and click together. It was getting close to the afternoon lull, so there were no customers or phone calls, bringing a welcome slowdown to what had been a fairly busy morning.

Evaine gladly set the broom aside, hopeful that her mom would have something more interesting for her to work on so she could finally get her head out of the clouds. She made her way up to the front register, leaning her elbows onto the counter to take the weight off her feet for a moment. 

“What do you think about Parker?” her mom asked, whispering secretively as she leaned in close.

“He seems alright,” Evaine said without giving him much thought. “He’s worked here for a full year, right? Thinking of giving him a promotion?”

“No, not like that,” her mom said with a little eye roll. She made a quick glance around the store to make sure the boy in question was still out of earshot. “I mean, as in someone you might want to invite over for dinner sometime, or out on a date.”

Evaine blanched, horrified that her mother was even breaching that subject. She had always shown an interest in her daughter’s personal life, but Evaine supposed they had different ideas of where the personal boundary lay between them. Her mom loved to ask about her social life, or lack thereof, always wanting to offer advice and ideas on how to make friends while Evaine would rather avoid the subject altogether. She hated being reminded how lame it was that she had no friends, no romantic interests, nothing about herself that she thought was worth talking about. She knew her mom only wanted to be helpful and feel involved, but for Evaine, it was a humiliating experience. 

But on today of all days, she was less concerned with what she didn’t have to say, and more with what she couldn’t say. Her mom knew her better than anyone and would surely sniff out a lie in a heartbeat, so Evaine controlled her expression by pretending to look at Parker with honest consideration.

“I really don’t think of him that way,” she answered hesitantly, hoping she looked more embarrassed than suspicious. “And I know for a fact he doesn’t think of me like that, either. He sits in the same area of the quad as I do during lunch, so I know his friends have been making fun of him for having a crush on Tayshia Johnson.”

“Tayshia Johnson the cheerleader? Her mom’s on the community garden committee,” her mom noted with approving recognition, as if she already liked Tayshia by association. Evaine couldn’t really blame her; everyone liked Tayshia Johnson. “Does she like him?”

“She doesn’t know he exists,” Evaine said, unable to help a little snort at Parker’s expense. She could feel bad about it later; for now, she just wanted to steer the focus away from herself. “From the way his friends talk, it sounds like he’s too scared to even say hi.”

“See? Then there’s no problem with shooting your shot,” her mom said, elbowing her in the ribs in a friendly way. “A guy like him might not be able to see what’s right in front of him, but if you give him the opportunity, he might surprise you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Parker’s full of hidden depths and all that, but he’s just not for me,” Evaine answered bluntly. “I think we’re just too alike to be a good match in that way. We’re both shy and awkward; every time we’ve been alone together, it’s just dead silence. I would want someone who makes up for those things I lack, or at least makes me comfortable enough to get over them.”

“I guess that’s fair. Plus, it would suck to have to fire you if things ended badly,” her mom teased before her voice took on a more gentle, caring tone. “I just know you’ve been kind of lonely lately; I thought it might help to have a little time with someone besides me.”

For the umpteenth time that morning, the urge to tell her mom about last night bubbled up into her throat, and she had to physically bite back the words before she spilled the whole thing.

“Actually, I kinda met someone last night.” Woops. 

“And you’re just telling me this now?” her mom practically burst, eyes going as wide as saucers. “Who is it? He or she? How did you meet? What happened?!”

“Dial it back, mom; I really don’t want to get my hopes up by talking about it too much,” she said, mentally congratulating herself on a nice save. “We just met while I was out getting dinner last night, and he seemed…nice, I guess. It wasn’t for very long, I don’t know much about him, but if anything comes of it, I promise you’ll be the first to know. I think I just need the space to figure this out, you know? Let it happen naturally if there’s anything there.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I won’t pry,” her mom promised, not dimming in the slightest. “You go at your own pace, but just remember that you always have someone here to talk to about anything. I happen to know a thing or two about this stuff, I’ve been around the block a few times myself—”

“MOM.”

Thankfully, they were interrupted by the bell on the shop door as Alec walked in, probably on his lunch break from the library. He looked especially chipper compared to his usual self, if one could consider him to be chipper at all. His flannel of the day was carefully buttoned at the wrist against an early fall breeze, and it seemed to be less wrinkly than it should have been after a morning of work. His jeans weren’t even that dirty, and he seemed to have trimmed his mustache that morning.

“Good afternoon, Dawsons, Parker,” he greeted as he walked in, waving for Parker at the other end of the store. He strolled right up to the checkout counter and set down a little basket wrapped in a checkered cloth. “As promised, giant cookies from Rosita’s Bakery.”

“Oh Al, you didn’t have to do that,” Evaine’s mother said politely, even though she had practically shot up at the mention of “cookie”. She eagerly reached over the counter to undress the basket, revealing a half dozen cookies the size of a splayed hand.

“It wasn’t any trouble. Got an order of peanut butter cookies for m’self,” he said, winking at Evaine when she jokingly stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“You know, this reminds me,” her mother said around a mouthful of cookie. “I should put together a welcome basket for the new neighbor. I don’t know if you saw, but some poor soul decided to move into the monster house. There were workers out there just this morning doing something to the yard.”

Evaine busied herself with unwrapping a cookie to hide the grimace that crossed her face when she thought about that spot of the yard where Jesse had dragged the body of Jensen Calloway, carelessly tossing the heart away and out of sight from the main road. Whatever warmth or joy she had felt about being able to confide in her mother was effectively washed away by chilling unease.

“Miss Dawson, it may be none of my business, but I’ve heard some unkind things about that new neighbor,” Alec said, his tone quickly turning serious. Evaine tensed at the sound of it, suddenly very interested in hearing what he could possibly know about Jesse Rayne. “Now, I won’t say much, I’m not about to go condemning a man I’ve never met, but I hear he comes from a pretty shady background. People around him tend to get hurt, if you catch my drift. I know you want to be neighborly, and that’s very kind of you, but it would put this old man’s mind at ease if you ladies stayed well away from that house. Just send a welcome by post, and don’t bother with a return address.”

“Really? I never would have known!” her mother said, one hand flying to her heart with the shock, but her blue eyes were alight with interest for such juicy drama.

“Where did you hear this?” Evaine asked, concealing the accusation with an expression of curiosity. “Didn’t he just move in?”

“From my cousin, actually,” he said, reminding her that he had disclosed such plans when she saw him yesterday. “She’s an investigator for a law firm in Montana, but she’s been following his case as far as Boston, that’s where he’s just moved from. She realized he had come to Jericho, so she reached out to me, wanted to give me a heads up. I figured I’d warn you ladies to err on the side of caution, just in case.”

“That’s so kind of you, Alec,” Evaine’s mother said, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I’ll just send him a fruit basket, say it’s a welcome from the whole neighborhood and nothing more.”

“That’d probably be best,” Alec agreed, as if the change in attitude was a mark of wisdom for herself and not the product of his own design. “I best get a move on; I wanted to catch Lonnie Hill before he goes making a fuss about the construction. His property is on the western border of the monster house, and you know he’s been complaining for years about the overgrowth spilling onto his land.”

“Of course, he’d better know who he’s dealing with before he says something he’ll regret,” her mom said in a knowing way. “Thanks, Al, for the cookies, too. You’re too good to us.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Evaine hurried to add, forcing as natural a smile as she could muster. Alec didn’t seem to notice as he bashfully waved away their gratitude. 

“Y’all be safe now,” he said, giving them that wrinkly bulldog smile of his before turning to leave the shop.

Evaine watched him go, her eyes narrowing when she spied the pleasant expression drop from his face just as soon as he was out the door, like a mask falling off. That chipperness she noted earlier suddenly revealed itself as the façade it was, just a way to hide the tension of his shoulders and balled up fists. Alec was putting on a show for them, not just lying, but using their friendship to manipulate them for his own ends. He was troubled, unwilling to let it show, and determined to keep them from seeking out their new neighbor.

It couldn’t be a coincidence, a gut feeling told her as much. Jesse was certainly being followed and investigated, that much was true, but if Alec’s cousin had anything to do with it, that could only mean that she was a hunter like Jensen Calloway. If she had warned her cousin about Jesse, that could only mean that Alec knew what he was.

Alec turned to look back through the window of the shop, his expression grim, but determined.

Oh yeah, I’m right about this, Evaine thought as she watched. You know something.

[pedroam-bang]

Geralt Of Rivia - The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (2015)

[kaytpoems]

possessed by fire

my lungs burn with every

cursed inhale, and the only

thing that comes out is 

smoke and sorrowful memories. 

~K.T.

[jonathanssweatercollection]

loving the lord of the rings so far

[handmed0wnart]

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 8: The Morning After

Evaine couldn’t remember the last time she had a nightmare that wasn’t about school or her teeth falling out at the dentists’. When she did dream, it usually came as a disjointed parade of images and sounds, and she, the passenger, strapped in for the ride. That night, after the hunter, after Jesse, she had hoped she would be too exhausted to dream, knowing it could only bring terror and monsters made more horrifying by her imagination.

The dream found her right back in Logan’s, standing beside the bar as she fumbled with the broken shards of her glass, trying to piece them together like a puzzle. It was an effort of frustration; none of the edges seemed to fit together, and every piece she touched left her fingers sliced open and bleeding. 

After what seemed like an endless stretch of time of just making an even worse mess, she looked up to ask Logan for a towel. The bartender had the great slope of his back to her, his brown fur moving in little waves as he slowly wiped down the bottle in his hands.

Evaine decided to look around for someone else to ask for help, but even though the bar was full of patrons, not a single one was looking in her direction. In fact, they were rather pointedly looking away from her. They had twisted in their chairs and turned over their shoulders, looking either to the walls, the ceiling, or the floor—anywhere but at her.

With her bleeding hand leaving a trail of red behind her, she walked away from the bar in search of anyone that could help her. She called out to them, knocked on tables, even went so far as to walk around them in circles, but each one shifted away from her like a schoolyard game of keepaway, and Evaine was the loser.

Fed up, angry, on the verge of tears, all she could think was that she wanted to go home. As if in response to her desire, she finally noticed the door on the opposite end of the room, already posed slightly ajar, inviting her to leave.

She started toward the door, and a sudden ripple of energy went through the crowd of patrons as people stiffened their posture, clenched their hands, or grabbed onto the backs of their chairs. Evaine paused only out of a momentary curiosity, but she decided she was far too upset with their behavior to care if they were being weird. She began again, marching straight for the door, and another ripple of movement went through the room.

“SsshhhHH!” The sharp sound cut through the rustling and creaking of wooden chairs, but the subtle motions continued. “She’s sleeping.”

Evaine’s steps slowed, just within arm’s reach of the door. She hadn’t even considered that she might be asleep, but she gratefully latched onto the idea. If she was sleeping, then none of this was real, and she could go home whenever she wanted. She decided with purposeful resolve in her own mind that when she opened the door, she would walk through and wake up.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could grasp it, a pale, clammy hand clamped down on her wrist, holding her back.

“Do. Not. Wake her.”

Evaine startled into a cold sweat, tearing her hand free. She turned around to find the same skeletal woman from the bar earlier, the one who had been so interested in getting her claws on her. The woman grinned at her with that discomforting, gumless smile, one thick strand of her hair stuck across her cheek as if the oiliness had bonded to her gaunt skin. 

There were a thousand things she could have said, her first instinct being to tell the horrid woman to back off, get away from her, but all that came out was, “Where are your eyes?”

The smiling woman reached up with her thin fingers to feel those twin hollows in her skull where her eyes should have been, running over the edges of her bones in a way that pulled and stretched the skin cratered there.

“See the unseen…” was the woman’s reply, her fingers running back and forth over those empty circles, the same way that Evaine sometimes rubbed her eyes when she was tired, like it felt nice. “See the unseen…”

Evaine turned away from the woman slowly, concerned that any sudden movements would cause a reaction. She grasped the handle of the door she had been reaching for and pulled to open it the rest of the way.

The world on the other side of the door was an empty void of darkness, no sky and no ground, no light and no sound. The gaping, devouring blackness of it stood in stark contrast to the warm, dim lights of the bar, flickering gently against the wooden door frame.

Standing out in that void was a figure, something vastly tall off in the distance. It was branched and rooted like a tree, but the length of the trunk was curved in the hourglass shape of a woman’s torso. The branches were twisted with colors of flaming red, the wood running with lines of olive, gold, and brown. It was a tree, but also a woman. A woman, but also a tree.

Just above the trunk there was a face, or was it a mere carving? Evaine wasn’t quite sure, but the details of that face were crystal clear in her mind. The teardrop shape, the soft line of the brow, heavily lidded and downturned eyes. That was her face carved into the woman tree, her face being worn by another.

“What do you see?” asked the skeletal woman from behind her. Without turning around, Evaine knew that the woman had at last stopped smiling, and her whisper was laced with worry and anticipation.

“We are awake.” 

***

It took Evaine a long minute to separate the dream from reality once she finally opened her eyes, blinking through the early morning sunlight that filtered in through the curtains over the window. The lilac fabric lent its color to the edges of the warm glow, and the familiar sight brought a welcomed wave of relief at the realization that it had been, in fact, a dream. Her own bed, her own room, the smell of her mom making coffee in the kitchen—those little familiar sensations grounded her, soothed her, and reassured her that all was well. 

The memories slammed back into her with enough force to make her bolt upright in bed, all traces of sleep and peace long gone. The attack, the bar, Jesse, Louis, Jensen Calloway…vampire.

Kicking back her blankets, she scrambled out of bed and over to the closet. Her memories of returning home and getting cleaned up were hazy, just an exhausted blur of showering and sloppily bandaging her injured hand, but she did remember bagging up the dirty, drenched  clothes she had been wearing with plans to throw them out later. When she opened her closet door, there they were, haphazardly shoved into a wrinkled grocery bag on the floor. Her shoes sat beside the bag, thankfully salvageable since the canvas was red enough that a few dark patches didn’t make too much of a difference, but the jeans and the white tee that had been given to her were  hopelessly stained the color of rust. 

That was because they had been covered in blood for hours last night.

That was because that part wasn’t a dream. Jesse Rayne was real, he had admitted to her that he was a vampire, told her she might be cursed…and Jensen Calloway was really dead. 

Evaine shakily let out a breath, sinking down to sit on the carpet while her body flooded with echoes of memories and emotions. She absently picked at the large band aid that covered her palm, peeling it back to reveal the thin pink lines where before there had been deep, red gashes. It had healed so fast, so fast that it couldn’t be possible…but then again, she shouldn’t even be breathing after what happened last night.

Right after it had all gone down, she’d been practically sick with fear and worry, so terrified of the unknown and unsure of her own safety. Now, with fresh eyes and a bit of rest, those feelings had dulled enough to be able to push them aside, allowing her to think a little more clearly. The trouble was, she still had no idea what to make of it all.

On the one hand, she had been through something truly awful, something that would haunt her for the rest of her life, something that made her stomach twist and her heart drop to even think about. The fact that she was lucky enough to walk away without a scratch did little to soothe the ache in her chest that hollowed out when she thought about it. That, and now the possibility of a curse which suggested untold danger, made her sorely wish that she had never stepped foot off the safe path home.

On the other hand, there was Jesse. There was someone who knew how to navigate this strange new world she had stumbled onto, someone who seemed genuine in his offer to help see her through, someone who managed to make her feel safe and secure while everything around her was growing more complicated by the minute. And if she was being truly honest with herself, she knew she would want to keep seeing him even if he had no help to offer her. She wanted to know more about the man, the vampire, who had saved her life. She wanted to know more about this world of his, magic and danger alike, and she wanted him to keep looking at her like he saw her as an actual person and not just a casualty of a night gone wrong. 

“E, you awake?” her mom called through the closed bedroom door, tapping a light knock.

Evaine startled so badly she nearly slammed the closet door with the bag of clothes inside. She frantically searched her room for any other evidence she might have forgotten to cover up, and loudly replied, “Uh, y-yeah, I’m getting dressed!”

“Alright, just checking.” She could hear her mom snort with a quiet laugh at the badly concealed distress in her voice. “Did you still want to come with me to the shop today?”

Right, she had forgotten that she agreed to help out over the weekend. Saturdays tended to get busy at the shop, and even though her mother had her employee, Parker, to help her out, some days required three pairs of hands, and she certainly didn’t mind being paid for her help afterward. 

She was tempted to say no just so she could have more time to mentally process everything she could remember from last night, and maybe scour the internet for a couple hours for some websites dedicated to monsters and lore, but she supposed that she shouldn’t flake out on her own mother, not if she was trying to act normally. Besides, having the distraction of working with her hands would help her to not let her mind obsess. Maybe.

“Yeah, I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she answered, casting a last reluctant glance at her closet.

Her mom departed from her door saying something about packing lunches, and Evaine went through the motions of getting ready for the day, even though her mind was miles away. The result was an inside out green tank top and shorts, her white sneakers that she usually avoided bringing to a shop full of soil and greenery, and a messy bun since she couldn’t be bothered to fight her hair after she had fallen asleep with it wet.

She was just about ready to leave when she went to search for her bag, only to remember that she never actually brought it home with her. Jesse had picked it up out of the mess of dirt and blood and tossed it in the back seat of the car where she had forgotten all about it. He hadn’t given her an exact timeframe to expect him to reach out, but she couldn’t wait around forever. That bag had all of her school supplies, all those books from the library, and she would definitely need it come Monday.

Pulling out her phone, she opened up her contacts list, hoping she hadn’t dreamt the part where Jesse gave her his number as they sat in the car. Something about having a vampire’s phone number just edged the whole situation into the surreal, but lo and behold, there it was, labeled with a simple J. She opened up a new text message, figuring this wasn’t the sort of thing to actually call him over, and labored over one sentence for a good ten minutes before pressing send.

you have my bag

your car, backseat

She wondered if he was even awake, or if he was the kind of vampire that just checked out for the entirety of daylight hours. She didn’t like the prospect of being put on hold all day, anxiously waiting for her phone to light up. Before she could put her phone away, however, it dinged to alert her to a new message.

It was dirty, I burned it.

Sorry

Her cheeks flushed with a sudden rush of anger, and her heart constricted with a wholly different sort of panic. Those books were borrowed, she would have to pay up if she couldn’t return them, and her school binder had all the assignments she was supposed to work on over the weekend. She didn’t even know how to begin forming the words that could effectively communicate her internal shrieking and the building storm of—

Just the bag, not the books

She almost laughed with relief, and at how ridiculous it was to get upset about that of all things. She was just glad that she’d decided against the phone call where Jesse could have listened in on her near-tantrum. He had probably just been using common sense when he took the time to rescue her things while he was in the midst of destroying evidence, but she felt a swell of gratitude nonetheless.

thanks, need them monday

I’ll get them to you

Be safe today.

[valerienrhapsody]

Sup cuties

I have a story that I've been working on literally since highschool and was considering getting it conventionally published, but right now I just want her to be read and enjoyed more than anything. So below the cut find chapter 1 of By Nightfall, and I'll post further chapters under the same tags

thanks love ya byeee

Prologue

The monster house, as the locals liked to call it, was the last relic of a time when Jericho County had dreamed of being a center of booming agriculture for the state of California. Old Jonah Rayne built the place from the ground up with nothing but his bare hands and a sturdy hammer, or so he would say to anyone with an ear to listen. It was his one crowning achievement, he would boast; “The most perfect thing I could ever create, aside from the children, of course.” A home built with love and for love, and the start of what should have been a glorious legacy to carry his name through generations. 

After the Rayne family massacre, with none but a few distant relatives to claim the inheritance, the agricultural land was divided and sold at auction. The  living quarters intended to house the estate workers eventually sprouted into the quiet little town of Jericho, and the Rayne property was reduced to the last five acres sitting at the end of Richmond Avenue and the old family home that had once been so dear.

Years became decades, then centuries, in which that house succumbed to its steady decay, a shadow of its former beauty with a sagging foundation, more holes in the roof than swiss cheese, and a small jungle growing out of the front yard. After an incident involving a curious child and an unstable staircase, the house was finally condemned as a safety hazard. Of course, that did nothing to stop the kids around town from breaking in, daring each other to face the ghosts of a butchered family whose name had been long forgotten. It was always the same song and dance: a new layer of graffiti and trash, and then new boards to seal all the windows and doors, rinse and repeat. So went the cycle of the monster house.

It was a night at the end of a long, dry summer that Jesse arrived, the first Rayne in over two hundred years to step foot on the property. The wrought iron gates guarding the path screeched against years of built-up rust, and it gave him the eerie sensation of being screamed at. Go away, the house told him. Let the dead things here rest in peace.

Still, he pressed on, his steps crunching on the gravel pathway that was the only walkable area not swamped by weeds. He ripped at the vines and brambles blocking his way up the porch, and two steps up the structure found his foot crashing right through to the ground.

The boards covering the front door gave Jesse the most trouble, layers upon layers of planks haphazardly nailed across the frame and decorated with weather-beaten signs warning away intruders. He tore down what could be removed by hand, then came at it with a running start to beat the door down with his shoulder.

Dust flew everywhere, catching the moonbeams streaming in from the hole in the roof over the foyer. A draft ran through the darkened halls and empty rooms, rattling old piles of trash and empty drink cans, and from somewhere deep within, the house groaned its objection to the disturbance.

Jesse echoed the sentiment with a low groan of his own, swatting away the dust and cobwebs hanging in the air. He gave up his efforts with a resigned sigh as he took in the grimness of his surroundings.

“Home sweet home.”

Chapter 1: Last Friday Night

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Evaine walked down the road toward home. It was a sign that fall was on the way, and with it came the first muggy, overcast day since summer ended. Patches of thick clouds traveled overhead, scattering the sunlight in uneven rays like curtains opening and closing over and over again. The heat warmed her enough to work up an uncomfortable sweat as she walked, but the breeze that affected the air so turbulently was just cold enough to bite at her cheeks and chill her toes. 

Fitting, she thought, as the gloomy sky mirrored her foul mood. A perfect little cherry on top of an already miserable day that was barely halfway through with her. Most days she could deal with the usual dull grind of high school life, the loneliness of having nobody to sit with at lunch, or the frustration of trying to make nice with people who made no effort to hide their disinterest. 

But today, oh boy. Today she had been asked to read her paper aloud in English, and the whole class kept on talking like she wasn’t even standing there, red-faced and stuttering in front of everybody. The teacher just had her sit back down before she was even finished so they could move onto the next presentation. Today Tanner Humphreys “borrowed” her favorite pen in math and straight up ignored her when she asked for it back at the end of class.

Today she had missed her bus home because her history teacher made her stay late to discuss why she was already failing barely two months into the semester. For almost twenty minutes he droned on about personal accountability and how colleges would certainly not be impressed by such a track record as hers, and wouldn’t she be so embarrassed if she wasn’t able to graduate with her senior class?

And so she had missed the bus, leaving her to walk home in this miserable weather while she stewed in her foul mood, and it was made all the worse by knowing that she had no one to blame but herself. Her fault for giving up on her grades, for trusting Tanner to give the pen back, for not speaking up during her presentation.

So lost in her own moping, Evaine was taken by surprise when she looked up and realized that she had walked all the way to the end of Richmond Avenue. Any other day she would have crossed the street to avoid being so close to the monster house; she didn't like the way its drooping porch looked like a downturned mouth set in a grimace and the boarded windows like eyes permanently sewn shut. That place had always given her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies ever since she was a child, and standing at the gates as a near adult was no different.

Evaine quickly tore her eyes away, as if staring too long would make the house aware of her presence, and turned to cross the street with a renewed pace. She knew there was a faster way home, just past the end of Richmond where the road turned into the dirt walking path through the Jericho woods. That way would lead right right up to her own backyard in half the time, but it would also take her so close to the monster house that she could see into those holes that the patchwork couldn’t quite cover, and then she would have to face the creeping feeling that if she could see inside, then maybe something inside could see her, too.

No, she would always choose the safe, reliable path of the sidewalk and the extra five minutes that it added to her route.

When she finally reached home, trudging across the lawn that was still yellow after such a dry season, she was met at the driveway by her mother’s car pulling in. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her mom to come home early on Fridays, letting her attendant, Parker, close up shop so she and Evaine could catch a movie or get dinner together. What was out of the ordinary was Evaine making it home from school a good half hour later than the bus drop off time.

“Running late?” asked her mom as she stepped out of the car, bringing with her the smell of moist fertilizer that seemed to waft straight from her overalls. Evaine doubted that her mom had a single item of clothing left in her closet that wasn’t stained by dirt and leafy smears of green, but the “bringing your work home with you” jokes had gotten old a long time ago. 

Besides, it wouldn’t matter if she was wearing a burlap sack or a glittering ball gown; Mary Dawson was the most beautiful woman in the world, and it was so unfair to Evaine who felt like a toad in comparison. Her mom had the most lovely honey blonde hair that she usually kept pulled up in a working bun, but feathery little wisps always found their way back to her face. Evaine’s own hair was so red it could warn away predators, and an unruly mess of curls to boot. Her mom’s eyes were a soft blue, bracketed by little laugh lines that did nothing to detract from her natural glow, while Evaine’s were brown over much darker skin that still bore the freckles from summer. Her mother had the kind of warm smile that could turn anyone into a friend, and it lit up her face as she greeted her daughter.

“Yeah…I need you to sign something for me,” Evaine confessed, choosing to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. Her eyes remained shamefully glued to the ground as she reached into her pants pocket where she had folded up the piece of paper from her history teacher.

Her mom accepted the paper with a bracing sigh, walking on toward the house as she read, her frown deepening with every word. Evaine unlocked and opened the front door for her, and they both stood in the foyer for a long moment of tense silence while her mom finished the scathing review of her academic progress.

“Well, it’s not exactly a glowing letter of praise,” her mom said, making a generous effort to not sound too disappointed. She set down her work bag and went to pull a pen from the entryway table. 

“I don’t know what to say…” Evaine mumbled, feeling even worse for the mild reaction, if that was even possible.

“Look, I’m not about to stand here and yell at you about how you’re better than this and there’s no excuse for laziness,” her mom said as she handed back the signed paper. “I had a hard time in high school, too. I was unfocused and too naïve to think about my future in any realistic way, and every time my parents yelled at me or tried to punish me for it, I just hated school more and more. So, I’m not going to do that to you. E, I know you’ve been having a hard time, and senior year is enough pressure as it is. All I want is for you to do your best to get through it, and just try.”

“I know, it just feels like this year is the hardest it’s ever been,” Evaine admitted, hating the sound of self-pity in her own voice. She folded her arms across her chest, willing the frustrated tears to stop stinging at the back of her eyes. “I mean, everyone else is talking about college and career paths right now, and I’m just sitting in class every day doing all this work that just feels so pointless and exhausting when I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself when it’s all over.”

“Hey, getting stuck in a bad attitude isn’t going to solve anything,” her mom said with a voice that was anything but berating. She pulled Evaine into her arms for one of those soul-mending hugs that never failed to chase the clouds away. “Listen, just get through this year whatever way you can. You know I’d prefer it if you got a diploma, but even I had to settle for a GED. Once school is over, you can come work with me at the shop and take general classes at the community college until you pick a career path. Believe it or not, senior year is not ‘do or die’ for your future. I think once you start to live your life outside of high school, you’ll find your way.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Evaine said, puffing out a breath against her mom’s shoulder, wishing she could be that hopeful for herself. For now, all she had was the gnawing guilt that made her feel worse for letting things get this bad. Needing a change of subject before her bad mood could drown her completely, she disentangled herself from her mom’s hug and forced a smile. “Were we going to do something tonight? Is that why you’re home early?”

“Actually, the ladies from the community garden are getting together for dinner,” her mom explained with an apologetic wince like she knew Evaine might’ve gotten her hopes up. “Do you want to order a pizza? Should I bring something back?”

“Nah, I’ll pick something up,” Evaine replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, refusing to let it show on her face that she indeed had gotten her hopes up. “If you’re going out, I think I’ll go to the library or walk around the plaza for a bit.”

“That’s the spirit! Get all dolled up, see what kind of trouble you can get into,” her mom encouraged with a playful wink, the kind that said she was only half joking. Her mom-humor was the contagious kind, and despite herself, Evaine began to feel a little better.

Her mom’s version of getting ready for a night out involved showering, blowing out and curling her hair, painting on a light layer of makeup, and donning the sleekest black dress in her closet that she held onto just for such occasions. In the same amount of time, Evaine paced back and forth from her closet to her laundry hamper, regretting the fact that she hadn’t bothered to pick up anything nice during her yearly school shopping trip. After spending way too long struggling to make a decision, she finally settled on a pair of jeans and one of her newer graphic tees. Just to feel more dressed up, she laced up her red sneakers instead of the black ones. Sneakers, because of course she would be walking for the rest of the night. In the muggy heat and icy wind. Again.

She went into her mother’s room to give herself a final look in their full-length mirror, feeling reasonably satisfied with her work. The shirt was smooth and unwrinkled, her jeans were worn in and soft, and her sneakers looked clean and well cared for. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail in anticipation of a breezy night, and gelled down as much of the frizz as she could manage. It wasn’t the same level of style as she’d seen the other girls at school wearing lately, but if tonight was the night to try her luck and maybe talk to somebody new, at least she wouldn’t be too self conscious.

It was a nice thought, but it lasted for only a moment before her mother came to stand beside her to use the mirror as well, fluffing out her sculpted curls and fixing her dress. Side by side, all Evaine could see was what set them apart from each other, and her heart sank with the familiar weight of disappointment. 

When she was a child, she used to ask her mom if she would grow up to look like her, like all these things that made her different were nothing more than growing pains to be overcome. Even after the truth had been explained to her, she would still daydream about waking up one day to find that she had magically blossomed into that version of herself she always wished she could become. If only she could be a little more like her mother, she would think in those critical moments, if only she could be prettier, more charming…then her life could really begin. People would look at her and pay attention when she talked, and they would call her up and invite her places on Friday nights just because they enjoyed her company, and she would be such a good friend to have.

It took a long time for her to understand what it meant to be adopted, and many more years after that to accept that the face she saw in the mirror was the only one she would ever have, that there would never be a fairytale moment to turn this pauper into a princess.

It was still muggy in the late afternoon as Evaine and her mother both set out for the evening, but at least the breeze had carried away the darkest of the clouds, freeing the sun to cast its long shadows across the front lawn. Her mom gave her a ride into town, thankfully saving her from having to walk the first half of her trip, and she was dropped off at the steps of Jericho Public Library. The two wished each other a fun night, and after a slew of reminders from her mom to be careful and to try to be home before dark, the two parted ways.

From her first steps through the library doors, Evaine could feel all the tension and stress of her day finally beginning to release its hold on her. Here, where the air smelled like paper and ink and those scented candles the librarian kept on her desk, where the only noise was the soft flutter of pages being turned and polite whispers being shared back and forth, here was where Evaine found joy more than any place in the world. Once she had tucked herself away in her comfortable little reading corner, things like the self conscious worries over her looks or of being friendless and lonely simply didn’t matter anymore. 

Her favorite spot in the building was the set of twin chairs by the window overlooking Jericho Plaza. They were a faded sea green with brass nail embellishments, mismatched with a little chestnut end table and vintage reading lamp between the two. From there, she would be able to watch all the lights come on at sundown, making the little town look like a fairy wonderland.

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Evaine looked up from her book to find Alec, the assistant librarian, staring down at her. He was an older man of about forty, although she could have sworn he’d clung to thirty five at least three years in a row. He had dark and weathered skin which bore the marks of a lifetime of hard work, and a layer of gray peppered stubble all across his chin. His face was set in a permanent sort of scowl that belied the kind man underneath, and when he laughed he looked like a wrinkly bulldog. As per usual, his work boots and jeans were just a little wrinkled with bits of dust and paper scraps clinging to the fabric, and his flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows where the edges of some faded tattoos could be seen. He was the everything man around here, just as likely to be found working on maintenance as hunting down late fees. 

“Hey, Alec,” Evaine greeted, bookmarking her spot in her latest selection so she could give him her full attention. “What’s up?”

“Your waitlisted request finally came in,” he announced, setting a new book in front of her. “Actually, it came in last week but Miss Evelyn hasn’t been shelving the returns since her cat’s been sick. I’m just getting around to it.”

“Thanks, I was wondering about that,” Evaine said, picking up the book with a grin. She looked around at the other books she had collected for the afternoon and realized she would have to sacrifice one if she was going to be able to carry them all home. Oh well; Friday night problems.

“What happened to movie night with your mom?” Alec asked, pulling up the reading chair just across from hers. From the chest pocket of his flannel shirt he pulled a little baggie of peanuts and began to pop them with loud, open-mouthed crunching. 

“It turned into ladies’ night with the gardening club,” Evaine explained with a shrug she hoped looked more careless than she felt. It would just be too pathetic to admit out loud that she was lonely because mommy had more friends than her. “I figured I’d just read for a bit and then go pick up some dinner. You have any big plans for the weekend?”

“I’m actually making the drive to Redwood City after closing. My cousin Maggie’s there for work, so we’re getting dinner.”

“That should be fun,” Evaine said politely, secretly disappointed that even Alec, the only person in town with fewer friends than her, had plans and someone to hang out with. “Hey, can your stop by Rosita’s Bakery on the way for me? Bring me one of those colossal cookies.”

“Chocolate chip or peanut butter?”

“Ew, peanut butter’s gross. Chocolate chip.”

“You better wash your mouth out with soap; don’t talk about my peanut butter like that,” he warned, wagging a finger at her until she started to laugh. “And stop that laughing. Don’t you know we’re in a library? Gonna get us arrested.”

Of course, that only made her laugh harder, and he shook his head to hide his own satisfied smirk. Evaine had always thought that Alec wasn’t like most people, never brushing her off or making her feel ignored. He treated her like she was a person, like someone who was worthy of his time and friendship.

From a few aisles down came the sound of a loud CRASH, the resulting tumble of books, and someone doing their best to whisper a slew of curse words. Alec grumbled to himself and began to stuff the peanuts back into his shirt pocket.

“Guess that’s my cue. See you later, kiddo.”

“Have fun at dinner,” she called after him as he half-ran toward the crash.

Evaine spent the next few hours reading and enjoying her own company right up until the library closed promptly at six. It wasn’t quite nighttime when she stepped back outside, but the clouds made it dark enough for all of the lights of the plaza to come on a little early. 

It seemed as if the whole town was out that evening, strolling among the shops and enjoying the relief after another hot day. Evaine took her time walking the plaza pathway as she debated her dinner options, moseying through shops with clothes she knew she would never buy and hobbies she wished she had the talent for. While it was nice to see everyone out and enjoying themselves, it never failed to leave her with a melancholy pang in her chest. Just for once it would be nice to have somebody to walk around with, talk about the latest school gossip, or get their opinion on whether they should eat tacos or pizza.

She could feel that bad mood from earlier threatening to rain down on her as her thoughts took a sour turn, so she made the quick decision to just grab dinner from the nearest restaurant and head home. It was one of her favorite burger joints, busier than normal with so many people out enjoying the first night of the weekend, so by the time she got her white paper sack of food it was only a few minutes away from full dark.

She hurried to start the trek home, sorely wishing she had left more books behind at the library as they were now weighing her down. The journey back usually took a good thirty minutes along the sidewalk path, and she made it almost ten before she started eating her fries right out of the bag. She humored herself as she walked with ideas for what she could do with her free time tomorrow; she’d been meaning to organize the junk drawer in her desk, or maybe she could watch a movie and do her nails, or more likely just binge read everything she had just checked out…

Nearly home, Evaine turned to cross the street, headed away from Richmond, when there came a sound from the roadside shrubbery that made her halt in her tracks. It was a rustling of the dry bush leaves followed by a mewling little whimper, a small, distressed sound, almost like that of a puppy to her ears. 

A stressed pang of sympathy in her heart made her turn toward the sound, seeking it out, as she could picture all too well the image of a sad little face, hiding itself from the big scary human towering over them. She imagined how it might have gotten lost or been abandoned, just crying out for its mother or for some food, or for a comforting touch…

“Hello?” she called in her most non-threatening voice, leaning down to make herself smaller and less intimidating. She beckoningly clicked her tongue a few times and held out her hand. 

The rustling scampered from one bush to another and around a corner, like it was frightened and trying to get away from her, but then there was a small snap like a breaking twig and a much sharper cry.

“What’s wrong?” she continued to coo, following the sound. If the poor thing was hurt, there was no way she could just leave it behind. She had to see if it was alright, see if there was a collar or tags, maybe even walk back into town to drop it off at the vet’s office. She reached into her bag of food and pulled out a fry as bait, holding it out toward the bush.

When she was met with nothing but silence, she could only frown at the spot where she’d heard it last.

“Hello?” she tried again, straining her ears to listen. Still there was nothing, no breathing like she would expect from a wounded animal, no rustling or movement to be seen. Even the breeze had come to a momentary standstill, making the quiet all the more pronounced.

It was only then that Evaine realized the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She looked around and saw with a wash of dread how far off the path she had gone, carelessly following those cries for help. Down the road and around the corner she had gone, blind to anything but that sad little cry, and somehow wound up walking right through the opened gates of the monster house.

Startled by the sight of it looming ahead of her, she took a few quick steps back, looking all around to confirm that she was alone. She looked up at the house itself, saw that the front door which had been closed that afternoon was now an open void of darkness, and her heart leaped into her throat.

“No no no no!” she shook her head, taking a few more steps backward. The fear shot through her chest like a frozen knife, and a taste like acid bile rose in her throat. Whatever instincts she had to mind her safety were suddenly awake and screaming at her to turn and run.

A hand grasped her by the elbow and she yelped with surprise, whirling around. It was a man, standing where there had before been no one, his face cast in the darkness of dusk so that she couldn’t see who it was. She attempted to tear her arm away, but the grip that held her was too strong. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, using his overwhelming size to crowd her vision, blocking her path for escape. 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Evaine squeaked helplessly, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to see through the dark for any means of escape.

“Come on, you need to leave.” He started to drag her toward the gate, but he didn’t get more than two steps before he froze in his tracks, the hand on her arm tightening painfully. His head slowly turned to look down on her, and when he spoke there something gravelly and hateful in his voice. “Dammit…one of them. Say goodnight, freak.”

Before she could even inhale from the shock, his other hand smacked into her neck and locked on. With little effort on his part, he squeezed until Evaine’s panicked breathing was cut off, and pressure began to build in her head making her ears ring and her lips feel puffy. The muscles of her throat struggled to work against the imposing force clamping her airway shut while her hands flailed desperately to fend him off. She pounded with her fists, scratched at whatever skin she could reach, but nothing could deter the man beyond a small huff of irritation when she drew blood. 

Still she fought, thrashing against his grip, until her vision swam with a blackness that crept up from the corners of her eyes and the last of her strength was finally used up. Her hands fell away from where she had been trying to pry him off and her knees buckled from beneath her, leaving her whole body weight hanging there by her neck. 

The last thing she heard as the darkness took her was the slow, unburdened breaths of her murderer.

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 2

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 5

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 6

[valerienrhapsody]

Chapter 7

[peachpotions]

u know what, even if my writing isnt the BEST, i still made it all on my own. like there was a blank word doc and i filled it up with my own words, my own story. i took what was in my head and i made it a real thing. idk i feel like that alone is something to be proud of.

[charl0ttan]

executive dysfunction is literally like. ive had a random dollar on my floor for two weeks and i dont know when ill fit it in my schedule to pick it up. people dont realize this

[kaytpoems]

blue lights and rooftop musings

she became part 

of the night sky, her

hair the black canvas, 

and her eyes glittering

stars. 

~K.T.