So this is the opening of a story I wrote for my English class. Please do tell me how it is. I want to continue the story, posting bits occasionally, but only if you think it sounds interesting. If it doesn't please tell me and I won't do it.
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The clock chimed the hour and he knew that he was in the wrong century. He landed with a thud on the cold floor of the abandoned Church. He painfully brought himself to his knees, wincing and looking half dead. The effort seemed to be too much for him, as his eyes rolled up in his head and he exclaimed, “Oh, shoot!” before collapsing in a heap, unconscious.
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I toyed with my food, vigorously nodding to whatever my father said. He was rambling on and on and on about some unfortunate nameless person who had died at the hands of The Dictator. Ugh, he was starting to sound so monotonous. My twin sister didn’t even seem to be paying attention, her daft little brain preoccupied in some useless thought that brought a frown to her face. I smiled internally. It was the perfect opportunity for some harmless fun. I snapped my fingers lightly, and my father’s hair caught on fire.
My father yelped in pain, drawing my sister’s attention. Before she could move to his side and put the fire out, I was already there. I put on my most innocent and worried face as I got rid of the fire. “How could you do this to our own father, Valkyrie?” I demanded of my sister. She looked at me wide – eyed and confused. Then realization dawned on her and her face contorted into a mask of anger. “Shut up, hag. Don’t frame me for what you did! Father, I heard Rosalind snap her fingers right before your hair lit up.” Ah, damn it. She wasn’t as oblivious as I thought she was. My father looked at me suspiciously.
It was time for Plan B. My face crunched up and tears began rolling down my face. “I..I..didn’t do it. I..I..swear. Why….why…would I? She probably did it because your words reminded her of her jealousy towards me because she isn’t powerful enough to be the one killing The Dictator.” I said, gasping for breath for emphasis. My father looked at me with complete love and trust in his eyes and I knew I had won him over. “Valkyrie Andreyah, how dare you misuse your magic to harm someone else and then blame it on your faultless sister?” my father thundered. I sniffled pitifully, looking believably hurt and shocked that anyone would ever dream of convicting me. Then, for a final stamp of authenticity, I ran out of the house, sobbing uncontrollably.
I stopped crying the second I was out of earshot, reconsidering my actions. Sigh, I regretted putting out the fire. I should have just lit him up like a burning star and watched the light drain out of him, leaving only ashes. But then again, that would just be a waste of my magic on worthless scum like him. My feet carried me towards the old haunted Church, a place I used to vent my anger. Which powerless animal would I hunt and incapacitate today? A squirrel? A nightingale? A deer? I walked inside and whistled softly at the sight before me. A boy about a year older than me lay unconscious on the ground, a gift from the Gods themselves for me to amuse myself with. It seemed like my torture methods would have to be more advanced today.
Oooh, how I would enjoy seeing his muscular frame squirm under the tendrils of my magic, as I scarred his lovely face with my knives............
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That's all. I hope you like it!
___________________________________________________________________
The clock chimed the hour and he knew that he was in the wrong century. He landed with a thud on the cold floor of the abandoned Church. He painfully brought himself to his knees, wincing and looking half dead. The effort seemed to be too much for him, as his eyes rolled up in his head and he exclaimed, “Oh, shoot!” before collapsing in a heap, unconscious.
___________________________________________________________________
I toyed with my food, vigorously nodding to whatever my father said. He was rambling on and on and on about some unfortunate nameless person who had died at the hands of The Dictator. Ugh, he was starting to sound so monotonous. My twin sister didn’t even seem to be paying attention, her daft little brain preoccupied in some useless thought that brought a frown to her face. I smiled internally. It was the perfect opportunity for some harmless fun. I snapped my fingers lightly, and my father’s hair caught on fire.
My father yelped in pain, drawing my sister’s attention. Before she could move to his side and put the fire out, I was already there. I put on my most innocent and worried face as I got rid of the fire. “How could you do this to our own father, Valkyrie?” I demanded of my sister. She looked at me wide – eyed and confused. Then realization dawned on her and her face contorted into a mask of anger. “Shut up, hag. Don’t frame me for what you did! Father, I heard Rosalind snap her fingers right before your hair lit up.” Ah, damn it. She wasn’t as oblivious as I thought she was. My father looked at me suspiciously.
It was time for Plan B. My face crunched up and tears began rolling down my face. “I..I..didn’t do it. I..I..swear. Why….why…would I? She probably did it because your words reminded her of her jealousy towards me because she isn’t powerful enough to be the one killing The Dictator.” I said, gasping for breath for emphasis. My father looked at me with complete love and trust in his eyes and I knew I had won him over. “Valkyrie Andreyah, how dare you misuse your magic to harm someone else and then blame it on your faultless sister?” my father thundered. I sniffled pitifully, looking believably hurt and shocked that anyone would ever dream of convicting me. Then, for a final stamp of authenticity, I ran out of the house, sobbing uncontrollably.
I stopped crying the second I was out of earshot, reconsidering my actions. Sigh, I regretted putting out the fire. I should have just lit him up like a burning star and watched the light drain out of him, leaving only ashes. But then again, that would just be a waste of my magic on worthless scum like him. My feet carried me towards the old haunted Church, a place I used to vent my anger. Which powerless animal would I hunt and incapacitate today? A squirrel? A nightingale? A deer? I walked inside and whistled softly at the sight before me. A boy about a year older than me lay unconscious on the ground, a gift from the Gods themselves for me to amuse myself with. It seemed like my torture methods would have to be more advanced today.
Oooh, how I would enjoy seeing his muscular frame squirm under the tendrils of my magic, as I scarred his lovely face with my knives............
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That's all. I hope you like it!
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