young-adult-fiction

She looked at her best friend as he unraveled the tightly wound cord from his heart and told her what she had been hoping to hear." from the upcoming The Witch of Belle Fleur

You haven't lived life to the fullest until you've found something worth dying for

You'll never be as OK with the thought of dying as you are in the moments when you know that you are truly living

It is good to be willing to stand as a hero, but you must also be willing to fall as a hero

I hate you, Edgar. I hate you with all my heart.

The villagers had removed their masks. They displayed their true faces. And they were dreadful, diabolic visages. Blasted skin hung from shrunken mouths and red veins burst from their skin, leaving pronounced contours akin to miniature rivers. Each throbbed and pulsed, at home on scabby foreheads.I balked. The eyes drew all attention.Silver coins replaced eyeballs. They glinted with the same alluring lustre as the ones I had coveted in the chests. Instantly, dreadfully, I knew they were one and the same _ accursed treasure used for nefarious sight, a symbol of the damned. And yet, the more I stared, the more I coveted them.

He is only fifteen! Does she really think he is prepared for marriage, especially with his intellectual range of a teacup?

Go find your own hiding spot!_ I hissed. __he seat is not wide enough to hold me and that whale you call a nightgown._ Also, we were better off if whoever was coming caught one of us _ and by one of us, I meant Rose.

I brooded over it. If it had been any other dream, I would have ignored it. But it was one of those dreams. One of those purple dreams. One of those dreams that had an unusual tendency to come true.

Lucille, please make them go away!_ she moaned, her voice muffled. __o you think I am a divine being sent from the celestial realm to guard you from the harsh punishment of rousing from your slumber?_ __s that a yes?_ __ am surrounded by idiots.

All the carriages filed out in single file but in a fashion that seemed to mean that they were competing against each other. The only sound that could be heard for a while was the pounding of the horses_ hooves and the squeal and groan of the wheels against the road. Their hooves kicked up dirt, creating a storm of dust. Once the miniature storm and the sound of galloping horses subsided, I could only see one last person. He glared up at me and mouthed, __ext time._ Christopher dug his boots into Dawn__ muscled flank. She reared up and broke into a gallop through the sparse forest, heading for escape. The last trace of them was the particles of floating dust, bright like floating fire.

She was not in the body of a young woman but just as I remembered her: a little toddler with a beautiful smile. She reached out with her small hand, and I gripped her tiny fingers as I let go of the pain and sank deeper into the lake.

I opened my eyes and watched the water stream past me. I let out some of my air and gazed at the cascade of silver bubbles dancing up to the surface.

As we drifted away from the Tower Bridge, I saw a single silhouette standing against the bright lamplight. Even now when I was nearly asleep, I could recognise her. Her shoulders were hunched up as if she was upset. Whether she was upset that she had nearly killed me or that she had let me get away, I was unsure. Then she turned around and walked to join the other silhouettes standing in a group farther back. Now I could not see which one was Rose _ they were all joint together to make one.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there really is some goodness here in our world. But if goodness existed, that must mean that darkness existed as well.

The four of us stood in silence as we watched the surrounding girls play games or gossip. It was almost as if I did not belong here anymore. It was like I was peering in through a window from a completely different world.

She was merely an actress who had been forced to perform her part on stage without fully knowing her lines. She was not real.

The stars twinkled high above and reflected onto the cold window. I blew on the frosty glass and watched my breath fog up. I traced my initials across the cold glass, the condensation trickling down the pane.