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They say that home is where the heart is. Home is...hot chocolate and fluffy towels. Home is...wet socks on the radiator and old christmas specials. Home is...warm smiles and soft hugs. It's being sick in the head and loved anyway. It's being loved so much that the sickness never gets to grow. It's having a champion when you're little. It's waking up in the night and climbing into your parents' bed. Home is having enough to eat all year. It's being sick in the head and sometimes unbearable, but always cherished. Home is being protected. Home is family. They say that home is where the heart is. What about when the heart's broken? I

The woman was young, but her eyes were ancient. She looked no older than twenty, but her eyes. She smiled softly at them as she walked around the room, trailing her fingers along the backs of the couches, the spines of the books. Their whole group stood and watched her, waiting for the answers they'd searched so long for. "I was a god, once." Tomas snorted, yet she didn't seem concerned. "You don't believe in gods. That's quite alright. I don't either. There have been none of my kind for millenia. A long time ago, this place was young, and I was radiant with my power. I created this world to my fancy, made the inhabitants how I saw fit. I c

A hint of a whisper, a light in the dark. My heart jumps. A wisp of a tear, an echo of sobs. My eyes are dry. A clap of thunder, a resounding shout. My blood boils. A thread of black, a silent abyss. My skin yields to glass. A ray of sunshine, a theatre mask. My smile is radiant. A deafening silence, an oppressed existence. My self is insignificant. A hushed laugh, knowing eyes. My mood is mischievous. A phantom hug, a fading scar. My hands are steady. A broken child, a hidden past. My secrets are kept. A vague poem, a cryptic key. Known simply. Me.

        They've tied her up, she cannot run    She burns beneath the dying sun            Her soul too far, and far too late,                 Now she is consumed by hate.        Hate, the fire that licks at her legs.           Hate, the torture she's endured for days.                                  She cries out; there is no doubt.                         Her life, like sand; runs through their black souled hands        The sick'ing stench slinks through the crowd,                    Choking them within its shroud.                              Her skin crackles, cooked by heat.                           Her heart crie

         She couldn't believe her mother! How could she move them here, of all the places in the entire country?  The house they were moving to was centuries old, built on the remains of what used to be an execution site for accused witches.  Lila was furious. Not only was this an execution site, but it had been one of the 'most popular' of the burning grounds in England, where they lived.  Hundreds of innocent women and men had been burned alive here, and her mother, a witch herself, was moving herself and her witch daughter to the place where their ancestors had suffered the worst of deaths.   The car rolled up the hill to the house. It h

        ATTENTION!IMPORTANT!READ THIS! Okay, guys, I'm currently working on the rewrite of this first chapter, so be on the look out! Go check out my journal and get the details. Comment if you want me to continue this, please!!!!   She almost slipped, almost shuddered, but she caught herself at the last second. But Brant saved her at the last second, just before her father let her have it, verbally at least. “ I was, unfortunately, to quick to assume something of a sophomore, who for a girl has a very good arm. I should have listened to Cara, could’ve saved me a nice bruise, ne?” He

ATTENTION!IMPORTANT!READ THIS! Okay, guys, I'm currently working on the rewrite of this first chapter, so be on the look out! Go check out my journal and get the details. Comment if you want me to continue this, please!!!! Stay quiet. Don’t make a sound. Then maybe they’ll forget you tonight. Maybe they won’t notice you running. But wait. The key is turned in the lock, the door unmovable. The room is so dark, but the dark is better than what’s outside. She had never wanted to be at school more than that moment. Where she was scoffed at, but the top of every class. She wanted the fake blondes, throwing themselves at the j

            ‘ It was dark, the only light coming from the full moon. A cool, refreshing breeze caressed the girl’s face, making her long, raven tresses dance. She stood at the very edge of this hidden sanctuary, breathing in the heady scent of rain and wild flowers . In the soft, silvery light, she could make out a strange shape disrupting the smooth, flower speckled grass of the clearing. Was it an animal waiting for a midnight snack? Or worse, a demon? Her heart pounded, loud as thunder in her ears. Suddenly, a soft cry broke the silence, and with a jolt she realized it was an infant.