A short clip to a story I've been wanting to write for quite a long time, and I hope it's enjoyable. The background story is a bit difficult to understand - but in short, Piper (the main character) had this scary story character she'd created (Lestat), and after telling the scary story to her best friends at 12:03 sharp, it came to life. (If I'm right, 12:03 is supposed to be the most supernatural time of the night - I may be wrong on the exact time, but it was something like that.)
There are two versions, one in third person, one in first person. I'm always really picky with my writing, so I wrote it twice. Tell me what you think, please! (:
Just to maybe get you into the mood of the eerie idea of the story, you can listen to this song (it's a Danny Elfman work, so it has a creepy feel to it).
Into the Woods/The Witch
Here you go! Hope you like it!
P.s. The picture right below is my image of Piper and Lestat.
Version One
Piper AnnaLea Stark had never been a child to believe in coincidence, however that would mean everything happening now would be magic, which was impossible. She was a girl of science and logic, and never thought to believe in anything "coincidental" or "magical". Everything happened for a reason. No matter what it was - it could have been the most simple thing - there was a reason behind it. But now, Piper AnnaLea Stark was beginning to question everything.
What was happening now was indescribable; unbelievable. Not two hours before had the story of Lestat left her red lips when noises began. The front door had opened. Small creaks. Silent gasps. And everybody scattered to hide. Piper ended up in the corner of her small bedroom, her knees brought up, clutching a knife to her chest. She'd always been paranoid, always kept some form of defense hidden in her bedroom. Her hands were shaking, and her eyelids were blinking rapidly.
At a painfully slow pace, she stood and took light footsteps across her carpeted floor, towards the door, which was halfway closed. She kept the knife in front of her, pressed against her chest as she walked, prepared for Lestat's form to walk in, whisper terrifying threats.
No. She couldn't bear the hideous thought. She'd created Lestat, and she knew quite well what he was capable of. But it couldn't really be Lestat, could it? He aws a figment of her imagination - a story - a myth . . .
Piper slowly inched out of the door, feeling almost foolish at her disgustingly slow pace. "Pepper?" she whispered, so quietly she could hardly hear herself. "Lucy?"
Piper's slender legs slowly carried her towards the stairs, when a whisper came from behind her. "Not quite." The girl's dark eyes widened, and she sprinted into the open door she'd left of her bedroom, and slammed it shut when she got inside.
Her legs carried her to the corner of her room, where she tried to open her window. "Come on," she sobbed, shaking the rusted latch as her bedroom door slowly opened, revealing a man. He was tall, slightly taller than five foot five, with chestnut colored hair. His eyes were almond shaped, and a deep, beautiful blue. He had thin lips, and a gaze that could have been handsome. He was young - perhaps a bit over twenty. And worst of all; he was the spitting image of Piper's vision of Lestat.
A hoarse cry escaped her lips, and she gave up on the latch of the window. She picked up her desk lamp from the bedside table, and threw it towards the window, using all the force she had. The glass shattered outward, while extra shards scratched against her bare hands. She dropped the lamp and started to jump from the window when a firm hand wrapped around her small wrist, and twisted her around. "No!"
Piper closed her eyes, and shook her head. "What's wrong, Sweetheart? Recognize me?" he whispered, and twisted the knife from her clutches, bringing his own blade to her arm. "It's too bad there was such short notice - you could have thrown me a welcoming party," he said in her ear, and she began to shiver. "It's too bad introductions are so short."
Version Two
I’ve never believed in coincidence or magic. I always just believed that things happened for a reason, not just that we “coincidentally” bumped into each other at the movies. Everything was supposed to be the way it was. And there was no such thing as magic.
But now I’m beginning to question everything.
I couldn’t say this was a coincidence. There was no way. It was too creepy, too on the spot to be coincidence. But there was no such thing as magic. I don’t know what it is, but I’m scared. Terrified. All because of a scary story.
Alone in my bedroom was where I sat in the corner, clutching a knife to my chest. The knife came from a drawer on my closet; I was a very paranoid person, I liked to stay prepared.
Once again, I looked at the alarm clock on my dresser. Midnight. Where was my mom? How long could she possibly be gone when I needed her most?
Thud. Thud. Thud. Low, muffled footsteps came from behind my closed door, and I shrunk farther into the corner.
It couldn’t really be Lestat, the psychotic murderer from my story. There was no possible way. It was improbable. I must be mistaken. The chances of such an event were beyond that of the existence of vampires.
The door to my bedroom slowly creaked open, and soon, a full grown man entered. I gasped, and my hands started to shake rapidly.
The man was tall, slightly taller than five foot five, with chestnut colored hair. His eyes were almond shaped, and a deep, beautiful blue. He had thin lips, and a gaze that could have been handsome. He was young - perhaps a bit over twenty. Worst of all; he was the spitting image of my vision of Lestat.
The man’s eyes rested on my curled form in the corner, shaking and holding a knife, and a twisted smile rested upon his lips. “Hello sweetheart,” he said, and I closed my eyes and blocked my senses.
There are two versions, one in third person, one in first person. I'm always really picky with my writing, so I wrote it twice. Tell me what you think, please! (:
Just to maybe get you into the mood of the eerie idea of the story, you can listen to this song (it's a Danny Elfman work, so it has a creepy feel to it).
Into the Woods/The Witch
Here you go! Hope you like it!
P.s. The picture right below is my image of Piper and Lestat.
Version One
Piper AnnaLea Stark had never been a child to believe in coincidence, however that would mean everything happening now would be magic, which was impossible. She was a girl of science and logic, and never thought to believe in anything "coincidental" or "magical". Everything happened for a reason. No matter what it was - it could have been the most simple thing - there was a reason behind it. But now, Piper AnnaLea Stark was beginning to question everything.
What was happening now was indescribable; unbelievable. Not two hours before had the story of Lestat left her red lips when noises began. The front door had opened. Small creaks. Silent gasps. And everybody scattered to hide. Piper ended up in the corner of her small bedroom, her knees brought up, clutching a knife to her chest. She'd always been paranoid, always kept some form of defense hidden in her bedroom. Her hands were shaking, and her eyelids were blinking rapidly.
At a painfully slow pace, she stood and took light footsteps across her carpeted floor, towards the door, which was halfway closed. She kept the knife in front of her, pressed against her chest as she walked, prepared for Lestat's form to walk in, whisper terrifying threats.
No. She couldn't bear the hideous thought. She'd created Lestat, and she knew quite well what he was capable of. But it couldn't really be Lestat, could it? He aws a figment of her imagination - a story - a myth . . .
Piper slowly inched out of the door, feeling almost foolish at her disgustingly slow pace. "Pepper?" she whispered, so quietly she could hardly hear herself. "Lucy?"
Piper's slender legs slowly carried her towards the stairs, when a whisper came from behind her. "Not quite." The girl's dark eyes widened, and she sprinted into the open door she'd left of her bedroom, and slammed it shut when she got inside.
Her legs carried her to the corner of her room, where she tried to open her window. "Come on," she sobbed, shaking the rusted latch as her bedroom door slowly opened, revealing a man. He was tall, slightly taller than five foot five, with chestnut colored hair. His eyes were almond shaped, and a deep, beautiful blue. He had thin lips, and a gaze that could have been handsome. He was young - perhaps a bit over twenty. And worst of all; he was the spitting image of Piper's vision of Lestat.
A hoarse cry escaped her lips, and she gave up on the latch of the window. She picked up her desk lamp from the bedside table, and threw it towards the window, using all the force she had. The glass shattered outward, while extra shards scratched against her bare hands. She dropped the lamp and started to jump from the window when a firm hand wrapped around her small wrist, and twisted her around. "No!"
Piper closed her eyes, and shook her head. "What's wrong, Sweetheart? Recognize me?" he whispered, and twisted the knife from her clutches, bringing his own blade to her arm. "It's too bad there was such short notice - you could have thrown me a welcoming party," he said in her ear, and she began to shiver. "It's too bad introductions are so short."
Version Two
I’ve never believed in coincidence or magic. I always just believed that things happened for a reason, not just that we “coincidentally” bumped into each other at the movies. Everything was supposed to be the way it was. And there was no such thing as magic.
But now I’m beginning to question everything.
I couldn’t say this was a coincidence. There was no way. It was too creepy, too on the spot to be coincidence. But there was no such thing as magic. I don’t know what it is, but I’m scared. Terrified. All because of a scary story.
Alone in my bedroom was where I sat in the corner, clutching a knife to my chest. The knife came from a drawer on my closet; I was a very paranoid person, I liked to stay prepared.
Once again, I looked at the alarm clock on my dresser. Midnight. Where was my mom? How long could she possibly be gone when I needed her most?
Thud. Thud. Thud. Low, muffled footsteps came from behind my closed door, and I shrunk farther into the corner.
It couldn’t really be Lestat, the psychotic murderer from my story. There was no possible way. It was improbable. I must be mistaken. The chances of such an event were beyond that of the existence of vampires.
The door to my bedroom slowly creaked open, and soon, a full grown man entered. I gasped, and my hands started to shake rapidly.
The man was tall, slightly taller than five foot five, with chestnut colored hair. His eyes were almond shaped, and a deep, beautiful blue. He had thin lips, and a gaze that could have been handsome. He was young - perhaps a bit over twenty. Worst of all; he was the spitting image of my vision of Lestat.
The man’s eyes rested on my curled form in the corner, shaking and holding a knife, and a twisted smile rested upon his lips. “Hello sweetheart,” he said, and I closed my eyes and blocked my senses.
