female-protagonist

How dare a person tell a woman, how to dress, how to talk, how to behave! Any being who does that, is no human.

A society where feminine beauty is defined not by the human self on genuine intellectual and sentimental grounds, but by a computer software on the grounds of economic interest, is more dead than alive. It is a society of human bodies, not human beings.

If attempting to make the world a civilized one, makes you a bad woman in the eyes of the dumb patriarchal society, then, by all means, be it.

Any nation that does not learn to place women on the same pedestal of respect and dignity as men, will never in a thousand years attain greatness.

The world doesn't need a good woman who is meekly obedient to the uncivilized social norms that advocate female inferiority. The world needs those bad women who can think for themselves, to break the primeval norms of the society that consistently drag the human civilization back to the stone-age.

The representation of women in the society, especially through mass media has been the most delusional act ever done on the grounds of human existence.

Beauty is an illusion.

Women are no sheep.

Women are no sheep. Women are no fragile showpiece to be placed above the fire-place. Women of the thinking society are the builders of nations. Women of the sentient society are the builders of the world.

Honest to God, I hadn__ meant to start a bar fight.__o. You__e the famous Jordan Amador._ The demon sitting in front of me looked like someone filled a pig bladder with rotten cottage cheese. He overflowed the bar stool with his gelatinous stomach, just barely contained by a white dress shirt and an oversized leather jacket. Acid-washed jeans clung to his stumpy legs and his boots were at least twice the size of mine. His beady black eyes started at my ankles and dragged upward, past my dark jeans, across my black turtleneck sweater, and over the grey duster around me that was two sizes too big. He finally met my gaze and snorted before continuing. __ was expecting something different. Certainly not a black girl. What__ with the name, girlie?__ shrugged. __y mother was a religious woman.___learly,_ the demon said, tucking a fat cigar in one corner of his mouth. He stood up and walked over to the pool table beside him where he and five of his lackeys had gathered. Each of them was over six feet tall and were all muscle where he was all fat. __ could start to examine the literary significance of your name, or I could ask what the hell you__e doing in my bar,_ he said after knocking one of the balls into the left corner pocket. __ust here to ask a question, that__ all. I don__ want trouble.__gain, he snorted, but this time smoke shot from his nostrils, which made him look like an albino dragon. __y ass you don__. This place is for fallen angels only, sweetheart. And we know your reputation.__ held up my hands in supplication. __onest Abe. Just one question and I__ out of your hair forever.__y gaze lifted to the bald spot at the top of his head surrounded by peroxide blonde locks. __hat__ left of it, anyway.__e glared at me. I smiled, batting my eyelashes. He tapped his fingers against the pool cue and then shrugged one shoulder.__ine. What__ your question?___now anybody by the name of Matthias Gruber?__e didn__ even blink. __o.___h. I see. Sorry to have wasted your time.__ turned around, walking back through the bar. I kept a quick, confident stride as I went, ignoring the whispers of the fallen angels in my wake. A couple called out to me, asking if I__ let them have a taste, but I didn__ spare them a glance. Instead, I headed to the ladies_ room. Thankfully, it was empty, so I whipped out my phone and dialed the first number in my Recent Call list.__ey. He__ here. Yeah, I__ sure it__ him. They__e lousy liars when they__e drunk. Uh-huh. Okay, see you in five.__ hung up and let out a slow breath. Only a couple things left to do. I gathered my shoulder-length black hair into a high ponytail. I looped the loose curls around into a messy bun and made sure they wouldn__ tumble free if I shook my head too hard. I took the leather gloves in the pocket of my duster out and pulled them on. Then, I walked out of the bathroom and back to the front entrance.The coat-check girl gave me a second unfriendly look as I returned with my ticket stub to retrieve my things__hree vials of holy water, a black rosary with the beads made of onyx and the cross made of wood, a Smith & Wesson .9mm Glock complete with a full magazine of blessed bullets and a silencer, and a worn out page of the Bible. I held out my hands for the items and she dropped them on the counter with an unapologetic, __ops.___hanks,_ I said with a roll of my eyes. I put the Glock back in the hip holster at my side and tucked the rest of the items in the pockets of my duster. The brunette demon crossed her arms under her hilariously oversized fake breasts and sent me a vicious sneer. __he door is that way, Seer. Don__ let it hit you on the way out.__ smiled back. __od bless you.__he let out an ugly hiss between her pearly white teeth. I blew her a kiss and walked out the door. The parking lot was packed outside now that it was half-past midnight. Demons thrived in darkness, so I wasn__ surprised. In fact, I__ been counting on it.

For every woman you know who has been given substandard treatment by her parents, used by her friend or boyfriend, abused by her husband, discriminated by her employers and ridiculed by society, I know a man who has been burdened with family responsibility since childhood, humiliated by his girlfriend, bullied by his employers, pushed by society and harassed by his wife. Everybody is fighting their own battle.

Who knows? Maybe you both live happily ever after, or maybe three months from now you end the relationship because he doesn't squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom...nothing is guaranteed." - Olivia Harper, Secret Need

The castle of Enysfarne was a dark and towering force that hovered over what was left of my innocence. It contained my destiny, of that I had no doubt whatsoever; a fate that threatened to wipe the blush off my face and turn me into the man my father always wanted me to be... Veronica Somerset, Dragonfly.

There are some that even beg for the Chamber," she could hear Isaar saying in the back of her mind. "Soft minded fools or broken souls that would rather live a fabricated existence than deal with reality.