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"Nobody's ever going to adopt us," said Toby quietly. He had curled up in the corner of his bunk, sinking into the shadows. "Yes they will," Charlotte answered enthusiastically, her braids bouncing as she scampered towards the window and stood on her tiptoes to peer out at the drizzly gray world below. "I'm sure of it"

The door to the pub slammed open, causing the small building to shake. A woman stood in the door, hunched and wicked-looking, covered from head to toe in frost as if she had wrapped herself in a sheet of snow. "Water," she muttered, her voice gritty and almost cringe-worthy. She limped into the building, keeping her head low and shooting the bartender an acidic stare. "Get me hot water."

zone

He was in a zone. It was a bizarre place he couldn't escape from. Everything around him was fake. Or was it real? He couldn't quite tell the difference anymore; it was beginning to make him dizzy. He was teetering on the brink of reality. Sinking into the deep end. Slowly going mad. Visions of his family and friends swam before his eyes. Memories of fantastic people and spectacular places clouded his mind. But were they real?

want

He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything else. He craved it. He longed for it. And as he sat there in the pouring rain on a chilly night, shivering as the drops pelted his bare skin, he realized how good he used to have it. A warm bed in a cozy house. Clothes that fit comfortably. Warm food and clean water. People that loved him. But now? Well, now he sat on a curb in the rain. Alone. Wearing clothes that were tattered and torn, sporting shoes that were much too small, listening to his stomach rumble. He didn't just want a family. He NEEDED a family.

banks

He sat on the riverbank, his arms propped up on his knees, a wooden fishing pole clutched in his hands. His foot tapped along to no rhythm in particular. His overalls were torn and the flannel shirt he wore was faded and old. But he was happy. And that's all that mattered.

dare

"Jump off," Toby said, smirking. "I DARE you." The group of boys had gathered around Henry, their faces splotched with dirt, their shirts untucked, their suspenders dirtied, and their hats cockeyed. They were quite the menacing bunch . . . well, as menacing as 10-year-olds get. Henry swallowed hard as he leaned forward and peeked over the edge of the cliff. His feet began to tingle as he took notice of the violent waves throwing themselves up against the jagged rocks below. "Do . . . do I have to?" "Yeah," Toby answered, a cocky grin pasted on his face. "If you want to be friends with us, then jump."

"Why don't you try listening carefully to my instructions?" she said through clenched teeth. There was an irritated edge in her voice. "Find him. Kill him. Bring his body to me." She stood up straight and clasped her hands, narrowing her cold black eyes at me and tapping her long talon-like nails together. "Is that simple enough for you?" I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "No," I snapped, my voice low. "I'd rather die than let you hurt him." A wicked smile curled her lips. "That can be arranged," she hissed.

Moira and I sat crouched behind a crumbling stone wall, watching the guards march back and forth across the bridge. Each man gripped a sharp spear and stared forward with furrowed eyebrows. "We're never going to get past them," I breathed, sinking behind the wall and trying to control my shaky breaths. I hoped that Moira didn't notice how badly I was sweating. My heart pounded so hard, that it had begun to hurt. I ran my thumb across the hilt of my sword.

A sob chokes in my throat as I push the door open, peering into the dank hospital room. A light flickers in the corner and the whole place smells like antiseptic. He lays in the hospital bed on the opposite side of the room, the dirty sheets crumpled around him. I begin to feel dizzy as I walk towards him, listening to my shoes clap against the tiles. "Hi," he says when I finally make it to the side of his bed. His voice is cloudy and cracks as he speaks . . . as if he's been crying. "Hello," I answer, barely able to control the tears that are spilling from my eyes and running down my cheeks. "How are you feeling?" "Good," he says, managing a smile, although it isn't very convincing. It was strange looking at the bandages on his arm . . . or what used to be his arm, but was now nothing but a stump protruding from his shoulder.

"Let me make a suggestion," he says, his voice low as his lips curl into a smile. His silver eyes seem to freeze as he paces through the room. "Get out of here before I lose my temper." He stops to face me, clasping his hands together in front of him, tapping his index fingers together. "No," I say stubbornly, tightening my grip on my sword. The ice in his eyes melts into flames as his smile fades into a wicked scowl.

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writing since 2012 · 23 entries · 23 days shown up

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Rachel wrote about want
“He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything else. He craved it. He longed for it. And as he sat there in the pouring rain on a chilly night, shivering as the drops pelted his bare skin, he rea…”

the words Rachel reaches for

eyeshardagainstfacehandssatroomheadedgenowarmheartkeydoorvoicelooking