30Alrighty. I'm having the worst time EVER thinking of genres/plots for this thing. But I still would like to try. So I have two ideas of what can get me going. You have to help though. Part of this is interactive in a way, no?
Idea one: I post a list of possible names for the main character; genres I'm willing to write; numbers of side characters; names of side characters; hair color, eye color, possible heights of characters; personality types, etc. etc, and you guys vote. Mainly you'll choose the starting details for me and I'll work from there.
Idea two (which is easier on you, most likely): I post the starts of four stories that I've got saved somewhere on my computer (and I'll just include them in this post, just in case anyone out there is in the mood to read something). Then you guys vote (this isn't the start of the project! You're voting to help me GET started. I realize this is a bit confusing) on your favorite one and that will be the main, core chapter that the rest of the story/stories stem(s) from (the actual project will probably be a different story with a different title altogether). This will also give you an idea of my writing style. If you hate it, you can avoid waiting for this thing to actually get started and find something else you'd enjoy reading more.
If you happen to tolerate my writing style, but abhor the story starters I post, suggestions as to what you would prefer to see would be much appreciated.
And I just wanted to thank all fifteen of you for giving me feedback on the idea for this. I love you all to bits.
Okay, okay... I'll shut up now.
Story starter #1
Title: Misty
Word count: 1,904
Genre: Drama/Fantasy
Rating: G
Notes: I had a longer version of this chapter posted on fictionpress a while ago, so if it sounds familiar, you know why.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
My best friend, Toby, and I were playing before school started. We were playing tag – Toby's favorite game. I tagged him when he wasn't ready, yelled "You're it!" and took off as fast as my nine-year-old legs could carry me.
Within seconds, I could hear Toby approaching from behind, and fast. We wove around trees and through the heavy mist sitting on the moist, leaf-covered ground.
"You're it!" Toby yelled, slapping my arm.
He whizzed past me. I stopped running, trying to take in as much of the cool air into my lungs as possible.
I shook my head, watching his retreating form get smaller and smaller. When he was swallowed up by the early morning darkness, I took off again, determined to tag Toby back. Of course, this was no easy task; Toby was well known by the other children in our class for his speed. He was even faster than the tens and elevens in our class, making him even more admired by the younger eights we were all grouped with.
I ran through the moist air, hearing nothing more than the early morning birds twittering in the branches above me and the sound of my own feet slapping the ground. The cool air was starting to sting my nose and ears, but the rest of my body was warm, and was starting to protest. I was running further and further from the schoolhouse. One half of my brain was telling me I would have to get back soon. The other half was telling me that I had to tag Toby back. At least once in my life.
"Boo!" came Toby's voice from behind one of the thousands of redwood trees.
"Toby!" I screamed angrily, stopping in mid-run. The anger came from the frustration of him not only scaring me, but from him out-running me, as well. Again.
He laughed his innocent laugh, his gray eyes taking on their characteristic glow. And he took off again.
"Can't catch me!" he yelled, his laugh hanging in the air.
I grumbled and started to chase him again, determined to finally win the game. I was pushing my small frame to move faster than usual. I almost leapt for joy when I saw that his form was finally getting bigger instead of smaller. Could I actually have been catching up to him? Maybe he was just letting me get close because he felt sorry for me.
I held my hand out, reaching for him. I was so close, inches from tagging him. And then I saw something that confused me. Toby had a tail. A bushy gray tail. Toby didn't seem to notice. My running slowed since all of my energy was focused on what in the world could have been going on. How one could have a tail sprouting from their backside, and not notice it, was baffling to me. Even more baffling than having a tail in the first place.
Soon he must have realized that things had taken a drastic turn – straight for abnormal.
He stopped dead in his tracks. "Misty," he said, saying my name with a quiver to his voice, causing me to stop – merely a few inches away. At first I wasn't sure if the quiver was due to him being exhausted from running, or if he had finally discovered that he somehow had grown a tail.
His back was facing me. He wasn't trying to look at his new appendage, however. I could tell he was staring at his hands which he was holding in front of his face. I walked around slowly to stand in front of him.
We were both panting heavily, our breath taking to the air in fleeting clouds. The sun was rising, causing an orange haze to invade the forest, slowly burning off the morning mist.
I looked at Toby's hands; he wouldn't stop staring at them. He looked at them as if he had never seen them before. And then I saw why. His nails were growing. Of course nails are always growing, but never like this. They were becoming sharper, elongating and curving.
Moments later, the nearly invisible hair on his knuckles started to darken and grow longer.
He was shaking his head. "It's too soon!"
I didn't know what was too soon, all I knew was that I couldn't get myself to form words.
Soon things started happening all at once. Fur started growing all over his body. His ears changed shape. They were pointed at the tip, dark gray with white fur at the ends.
His scared eyes met mine. The color of his eyes changed as I looked at him, turning yellow. Then they started to glow.
He let out a muted grunt and fell to his hands and knees. His nose was growing longer and didn't stop until it looked like the snout of a dog.
I'm still surprised that I didn't start screaming in terror at the sight of his transformation. What surprises me even more is that, through all of it, Toby never yelled out. I think I would have been screaming in fear, at least, if not in pain. If any of it hurt Toby at all, he did an amazing job of keeping it a secret.
His hands morphed into paws while his limbs shrunk in size. The next thing I knew, his clothes had torn from his body. There, in front of me, with shreds of cloth beneath him, stood my best friend Toby as a beautiful gray wolf with hauntingly gorgeous yellow eyes. Eyes that were unmistakably the property of Toby.
"Wow," I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from him.
I'm not sure how long his transformation took, but I did know that school had probably started. Despite that realization, I was focusing on the incredible urge I had to pet his fluffy fur. But, it had felt wrong to want to, so I fought the desire.
Toby hung his head and sat down on his haunches. I squatted down in front of him.
"At least now I know why you're such a good runner," I offered when I finally found my voice.
"Misty, that's not funny."
My eyes widened. "You can talk when you're... like that?"
Amazingly, Toby looked startled by his ability to talk as well. I didn't know a wolf could have such an expression. Then again, this was no ordinary wolf.
"Misty! What am I going to do?" He looked so scared.
"I don't know," I said. Then I had a hard time fighting back a smile. "Oh, wow! I'm talking to a wolf!"
"Misty!"
"Sorry."
We sat quietly. I knew someone was going to come looking for us soon. If anyone saw Toby, I knew things could get ugly.
"Can you change back?" I asked, hoping that he would say yes, change back and no one would have to know what happened.
"I don't know."
"Well, try." I said. "Mrs. Leland will come looking for us soon."
I watched as Toby shut his eyes tightly. His claws dug into the ground beneath him. I braced myself. Sadly, nothing happened.
"Nothing?" he asked, eyes still closed.
"Nope."
His eyes snapped open. He gave me a pleading look and then said, "It's too soon! Why is this happening now?"
"What do you mean 'too soon'? Why do you keep saying that?" Then it clicked. "You mean you knew this was going to happen? And you didn't tell me?"
"Of course I knew. But I... I couldn't tell you. You know how–"
"I'm your best friend!"
"I know that! You're my best friend too. But you would have–"
"No, I wouldn't! I'd keep it a secret. That's what best friends do."
"I was scared. What if my parents or the others find out?" He shook his head. "After I had the dream every night for over a month, I should have realized it was going to happen soon." He sighed. "I'm going to have to join The Beasts."
"No! You won't. I won't let you. If you join – I'll never see you again."
"If I can't change back and someone sees me... they'll know. They'll tell everyone. I'll have to join – what else can I do?"
I shook my head defiantly and stood up. "No. We'll think of something. You're only nine! That's too young."
"I know, but... look at me!"
I bit my lip. "Well... think of what you were like as a human." I stood up and started to pace, straining my mind for a suggestion. "Um... your hands. Try and remember what your hands looked like."
"...what?"
"Try and remember your hands... what they looked like when you were human. See if you can make them change back. Or any part of you for that matter." It sounded completely logical to me.
He looked at me for a few seconds in sheer confusion. But he closed his eyes tightly anyway.
I remember watching him try as hard as possible to change back into his human form. I could see the desperation and complete determination on his face. He wasn't having much luck, however. Those few minutes he spent struggling to change one finger, one toe, one strand of fur back to its human counterpart felt like years.
"Toby! Misty!"
Toby's eyes shot open and he transformed all at once back into his human self.
I wanted to shout "You did it!" but I was far too shocked. Toby wasn't wearing any clothes.
When it donned on him that he was in nothing more than his skin – his human skin – his face turned three shades of red and he ran to hide behind a tree.
I heard Mrs. Leland pounding across the leaf-strewn ground in her heavy boots. I whirled around, terrified that she would see that Toby wasn't... dressed properly. And I was worried she'd see me with Toby. A naked Toby.
It wasn't like Toby could put his clothes back on – they were in shreds on the ground.
My heart was thumping against my rib-cage. I wanted to run away. I wanted to forget how embarrassed I had felt. I wanted to...
"Misty! There you are!"
I didn't even see her. She has been hidden by the trunk of a redwood tree wider than herself.
I clamped my mouth closed and stared at Mrs. Leland.
"We're all waiting for you! How many times have I told you that I find tardiness to be a despicable character flaw?!" A vein in her temple was pulsing. It didn't take much to upset her.
"I..."
"I don't want any more excuses, young lady! Now, where's Toby?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I don't know."
The vein pulsed harder. "Lying is worse than tardiness!"
"I'm not lying!"
"When are you ever not out here in the early morning with Toby?" She was really frustrated.
"Well, he's not with me now," I stated as calmly as possible.
"Oh no?" she asked. She walked past me quickly and kicked Toby's shredded clothes lying on the ground. "What's going on here, young lady?" she asked, turning sharply on her heel to face me.
I swallowed again. "Nothing."
I heard something move and looked up to see Toby running away, in his human form, as quickly as possible.
"I knew it!" She stomped her foot. "Come here, Toby!" And off she went, running through the forest after a naked Toby.
Story starter #2
Title: Untitled
Word count: 1,225
Genre: Drama/Mystery/Supernatural
Rating: G
She was late - again. If she walked into class more than five minutes late, Mrs. Johansen was going to make life hell.
Running across the dew-covered grass in front of Hyland Hall, she ignored the nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was already too late. That if she continued to run - up the two flights of stairs - that she would never make it. The voice was telling her that she'd be better off sitting in Franklin's Café, sipping a nice cup of hot chocolate.
But the voice was pushed into the recesses of her mind. She took the steps two at a time, using the handrail as if her life depended on it.
She swallowed a gurgle of disgust that wanted to escape from her lips when her hand landed on a fresh wad of gum that someone so graciously left on the railing for her palm to find. The wad of pink luckily wasn't sticky enough to get attached to her skin. It was, however, fresh and wet. It left a faint pink residue on her palm.
Wiping her hand on her jeans, she increased her speed up the second set of stairs, cursing the maintenance workers who had been "working" on the elevators in the building for over four months. Every time she saw the hard-hat-wearing men, all they seemed to be doing was either eating or gawking at the female students roaming the building.
Once she made it to her floor, she barreled through the door at the top of the steps and bolted down the hall, stopping in front of Room 1432. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and the back of her t-shirt was moist. She wiped her hand on her pants again, brushed a few wisps of her dark-brown hair behind her ears and pulled open the door.
The main thing she hated about walking into a class late was that usually most of her classmates were so bored or so uninterested with the material, that they couldn't help but turn to look at her when she came in. Sneaking into the back of a college classroom wasn't as easy as they always made it look in the movies.
She did her best to get herself settled behind the tallest and widest boy she could find in the back of the room. She had spotted Johansen scribbling on the board - back facing the students.
If I can just get behind this goliath, she thought, trying to get to the desk that seemed to be calling to her.
Surprisingly, she got to a seat - without making a ghastly amount of noise, as she was prone to do - and was hiding behind the large boy before Johansen even had the chance to look up.
"So nice of you to join us," Johansen said, turning around. "This is not elementary school, Miss Thayer, why are you hiding?"
Meadow felt her cheeks flush as she heard some of her classmates snicker. Entertainment in Johansen's class was quite the rare occurrence.
"You know my policy on tardiness, Miss Thayer," Johansen said, a horrible scowl on her face.
Meadow was having difficulty replying. She wanted to say something witty, or snide even. All she could do, however, was peer nervously at her teacher from behind the protection of the human wall wedged into the desk in front of her. She realized that she probably looked like a child who felt guilty for breaking her mother's favorite vase.
"You will stay after class to talk to me, Meadow. I despise such interruptions," Johansen said. She turned on her heel and returned to the board, finishing whatever she had been discussing beforehand.
Meadow was far too embarrassed, tired and angry to actually pay attention to the topic of the lecture. Usually, most of the fifty minutes in her eight a.m. English class was spent daydreaming or doodling. But those two activities required far more energy than she possessed. Instead, she resigned herself to staring at her desktop, praying that by the time class was over, she'd have the ability to teleport - giving her an almost flawless escape route.
Just around the time that Meadow heard Johansen use the phrase "conjunctive adverbs", Meadow noticed something about her desktop. The end of a message, written in thick black ink, was peeking out from underneath her blank notebook. She looked up, making sure that Johansen was still at the front of the room, and the large hunk of flesh was still sitting in front of her. She felt guilty about it for some reason; she didn't want anyone to see what she was doing. But, she figured, if someone had used a desktop as a message board, then s/he had to have known that anyone could read it. She lifted up her notebook and read the message.
What class do you have? Is it as boring as Quantitative Physics?
Meadow had always wanted to communicate with a stranger by way of desktop messages. Something about it seemed so illegal and mysterious. Of course, Meadow Thayer wasn't exactly known for leading the most exciting life. Her weekly excitement came from the nights she called numbers at her grandmother's Bingo Hall.
Two people had answered the dark-ink message. One person wrote: I have Population Ecology. I'd have to say it's more boring than watching paint dry. The reply to that was: That's what I'm taking: Watching Paint Dry! It's so exciting I could cry.
Meadow, after briefly peering around the boy in front of her again, began searching her backpack for a pencil. She did so with painstaking caution, only using one hand to fish though the top pocket of her bag, hoping that no one would catch her in the act of locating an object of public defacement.
When she located her pencil by touch, she slowly brought the tip of it to the wooden surface of her desk, and then looked around. An attractive boy a few seats away was watching her with an amused smirk on his face. He mouthed "Tsk tsk" before turning his twinkling blue eyes back to Johansen.
Smiling to herself, and feeling rather silly, she quickly scribbled the words, "English. Let's just say… finding your message has been the highlight of the class thus far." She added a smiley face to the end. And then erased it.
"That's all for today," Johansen finally announced, startling Meadow. "Remember that your Definition Essays are due in a week. Before class."
Meadow winced. She knew the last statement was directed at her. She packed up her things, waiting patiently for the enormous individual occupying the space in front of her to get himself released from the mighty hold that the desk had on him.
Blue Eyes walked past her, sending her a possibly flirtatious grin her way before he disappeared into the hallway, which was flooded with other students.
Giving her illegal another glance, hoping that the next time she came to class that there would be a response, she stood up and stretched. As she was slinging her backpack onto her shoulder, her eyes drifted towards the dark-ink message one last time.
Meadow's heart caught in her throat. The message she had replied to was gone. In its place was one word written in the same handwriting and ink: "Meadow".
Story starter #3
Title: Untitled
Word count: 1,316
Genre: Drama/Fantasy
Rating: G
There was a strong breeze coming from the north. It was far too cold for the season, sending up a red flag in Olive's mind. She had been waiting for the signs for months, looking, it seemed, in all the wrong places. Never did she think that what she was looking for was an innocent, chilly gust of air.
Expect the unexpected, he had told her. Once it starts, you'll know. And, once it starts, you'll have less than a few hours to stop it.
Olive hurried away from her usual morning path and headed back to the castle. By the time she reached the manor, the wind was whistling through the treetops. The women tending to the garden were holding down their hats with their hands and Olive's skirt was whipping about her.
She rushed through the open doors of the castle and began looking for the king. Being allowed to address him personally was going to be a challenge, as he seemed to regard Olive as nothing more than a nuisance.
He used to come to her for advice, to inquire about her well-being. But then her gift had failed her. Her gift that had once made her and the king close had gone hay-wire. Details were slightly inaccurate, if not completely false. Dates came too late. Names were confused and letters were transposed.
When the queen had fallen ill, there had been no warning at all.
The queen died a short month after the illness struck her, and Olive's title changed from Trusted Advisor to Meddlesome Seer. That event created a rift in the once strong relationship she had with the king. He no longer came to her for friendly chats or advice, he seemed to no longer care about her whatsoever. If their paths happened to cross, he would ignore her completely.
Olive's services at the castle, if not her life itself, were in jeopardy when the king's army lost an important battle. The date she saw in her vision was more than a month late. The name of the city, where the battle took place - which she had seen in her vision - had sent the army on a wild goose chase. It sent them blindly into unchartered waters, leaving them vulnerable.
The king had solely relied on her warnings for so long that when her power lost all sense of accuracy, his kingdom, his army and the king himself, suffered more than anyone had bargained for.
As far as Olive could tell, the only reason he allowed her to remain on the grounds of the castle at all was because of his daughter Isabelle. Isabelle and Olive had developed an almost instant connection the day Olive joined the king's clan of advisors. Isabelle was currently seven, going on eighteen, with a fierce temper and an innocent smile that was sweeter than honey. Though that sweet nature of the girl was positively infectious, her temper was terrifying. Olive believed the king was scared of his young daughter's ferocity, and was allowing Olive to stay in fear of what the young girl would do if the king decided he no longer wanted Olive's services.
It was because of Isabelle that Olive was looking for the king. Her visions, dreams, messages from her trusted friend, were all pointing to the same thing: Isabelle would be kidnaped if Olive couldn't stop it. Olive knew that it would be her head if anything happened to Isabelle. And, deep down, Olive knew that this vision was accurate. She could feel it.
Running down the hallways, she could only hope that the king would hear her warning. She had to hope that he would take the young girl with him when he left for his journey to Bugein. The king was going to lead the rest of his army to Bugein in hopes to regain some of the dignity he had lost in the battle Olive failed to warn him about.
When she came to the door marked with the king's insignia, a cross made by a pair of swords, she came to a halt, her path blocked by two armed guards.
She bowed. "Permission to see the king."
"On what grounds?"
"I've had a vision he needs to be made aware," Olive said with some urgency.
The two guards looked at one another, both obviously cognizant of what Olive's last vision had caused. "He is preparing for his departure," one of the guards finally said.
"All the more reason that I see him," Olive spat. She despised the fact that she was no longer respected by anyone in the castle. And it was all due to something she had no control over. "This is about Isabelle," she blurted out.
The guards still looked unsure. And quite uncomfortable. Olive wanted to slap them both.
"Hurry," one of the men whispered.
"Thank you," she replied, rushing inside.
The king was standing before the unlit fireplace, two men helping him into his uniform while a woman in the corner tended to the king's chain mail vest. The woman looked up from her work and her eyes widened when she saw Olive. Olive remembered the last time she had been in the king's chambers. He had yelled at Olive until he was red in the face, telling her never to step foot inside again unless it was a life or death situation. The woman had been witness to the king's emotional explosion.
The king must have seen the woman's expression because he turned around sharply, without giving warning to the two men buzzing about him. Olive swallowed hard as she waited for the king to say something, anything. He remained quiet, and as still as a statue. His pose was a bit awkward, as if he had been frozen in place when his eyes had landed on the last person he expected to see. It almost looked as if he was posing for a painting, remaining as still as possible.
When he finally found words, he didn't address Olive, but his servants. Though, as he gave them instructions, his eyes remained fixed on Olive's face. "Get me my cloak, dagger collection and scepter. I shall leave within the hour." He turned back to the unlit fireplace. "And please escort the Seer out of my chambers before I decide to have her hung."
"Your Highness!" Olive shouted. "This is a serious matter. I've had a vision; many of them, in fact."
"So I've heard. You simply never have them when they are most needed. Or they're mysteriously inaccurate. I'm tempted to think most of them are fabrications of your twisted mind."
"No, you don't understand. I've had others. Recently. All about the same thing." Olive could tell he was listening. "It's about Isabelle."
"What about her?" he asked, whirling around.
"She will be kidnaped if you do not take her with you on your journey."
The king let out a bitter laugh. "Bugein is not a place for a seven-year-old girl." He shook his head. "You've lost your gift, woman." He turned to one of his servants. "Escort her out. Now."
Olive was dragged out of the king's chambers, screaming and thrashing. She was drawing attention to herself, but no longer cared. Most of the inhabitants of the castle, save for Isabelle, treated Olive as if she were a joke. If the castle didn't already have a court jester, she would have signed up for the job.
It made her sick to think that Isabelle was in danger and no one cared to listen.
When the king left with his men, he called one final goodbye to his daughter, whom was standing beside an emotionally exhausted Olive. Olive knew, then and there, that if she didn't take matters into her own hands and take Isabelle away herself, that the young girl's future, and possibly her life, was in danger.
We leave tonight.
Story starter #4
Title: UntitledWord count: 1,075
Genre: Drama/Sci-fi
Rating: G
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this!" I had meant for the statement to come out as venomous and terrifying. I wanted him to realize that this was risky. I just didn't want to have to tell him directly.
"You know I wouldn't have come to you unless it was important, Jade."
I grumbled, accepting the fact that he wasn't going to let me back down on my word.
"C'mon," he whispered, looking down either side of the pitch-black hallway, "your roommate will wake up soon."
There was no way my roommate would wake up, she slept like the dead. I nodded and locked my dorm room behind me anyway. He grabbed my hand and pulled me with him down the hallway. We stopped at the end of the corridor and listened for any signs of life other than ourselves.
"I think it's clear," he said a few moments later, his voice soothing my nerves. If only temporarily.
We ran out, hand-in-hand, into the moonlight pouring in through the windows of the Main Lobby of the girl's dormitory. After dodging the furniture scattered around the room, and running up the small flight of stairs leading to the front doors, we stopped - backs pressed against a column, just inches from the door, hiding in the shadows. I was breathing heavily, more out of fear of being caught than anything else.
The dorm was quiet. We both knew, however, that a Student Advisor could appear around a corner at any minute on her nightly rounds of the building.
"Let's go," he said, pulling me to the door.
We crept out onto the patio of Chronos Dormitory. I scanned the lawn and walkways, making sure we were safe. He had let my hand go, and was doing his best to close the door behind us without making too much noise. My hand was starting to get cold in the absence of his.
Warmth crept into my hand again as he intertwined his fingers with mine, seconds after I had heard the bolt of the door click into place. "I think the coast is clear." His dark hair falling into his eyes had taken on a blue glow in the moonlight. "Are you sure about this?"
My mind was screaming, "No! We can't do this! It's too risky!" But the word, "Yes" came tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop it.
He smiled at me. "Thank you."
I nodded, not trusting myself with words at that moment.
He pulled me down the stairs, and across the dirt path that ran along the entirety of the Chronos Dorms. The sand and rocks crunched underfoot as we ran out in the open, night air. I felt vulnerable; I felt like getting caught was inevitable. The last thing I needed was detention and a letter sent home to my parents.
We stopped at a fork in the road: to the right was the Chronos Botanical Gardens, to the left was the Library of Time and straight ahead was the lab.
"Are you sure you don't need to check the books again?" he asked.
I wasn't known amongst my friends or classmates as someone with a great deal of confidence, but his question struck me as funny. He wouldn't have dragged me out of my dorm in the middle of the night if he doubted my abilities. "I'm sure," I said.
He nodded and we went straight, our destination: the Chronos Laboratory. When we reached the double-sided glass doors, I let go of his hand and searched my pocket for my keys. He kept a look out while I unlocked the door.
After we had successfully snuck inside, he flicked on a light switch, illuminating the main lobby of the laboratory.
"We're trying to be stealth, here," I whispered loudly, shutting off the lights. "The lights will alert anyone who happens to look at the building."
"Sorry," he breathed.
Suddenly it was I who was so sure and confident. I took his hand and lead him to the second floor. I knew the building like the back of my hand - even in the dark.
I lead him into room 352, my research office, and instructed him wait while I searched the back wall. As I stared at the floor-to-ceiling cabinets and shelves, I asked, "How many is it?"
"Four."
"Fuchsia is for four," I thought, remembering my first year studies. After removing a new piece of fuchsia chalk, I joined him on the other side of the room."Help me move these chairs out of the way."
He stood in the middle of the open space, his face hidden by the shadow of a towering bookshelf.
"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" I asked, hesitating. "Once I start, there's no going back."
"I'm sure," he said. "I've been sure for over a year." He let out a deep breath. "And I know the consequences."
I nodded. "Close your eyes," I demanded. I drew a circle around him with the chalk. The moment my task was complete, there was a perfect, glowing circle on the floor. "Well have to be quick, the Travelers will know something is going on."
He nodded. I could sense his fear.
I cleared my throat, stating the spell with ease:
"With this circle I invoke Timecast,
To witness the events of four years past."
The air became electric. The seconds slowed and my movements began to look calculated.
"State the date," I said, "and the reason for your request. If your desires are pure, you'll be able to pass." I swallowed and glanced towards the office door. "And hurry, the Travelers will be here at any second."
"You're doing me a huge favor, Jade," he said. "I owe you."
"I know," I replied, smiling.
"June 18, 2001. I want to see the event that changed my life... to actually learn the truth of my brother's death."
The fuchsia glow became more than just a disk on the ground around him; the light filled the room, causing me to shield my eyes. The seconds slowed even further, the air heavy. Moments later, the glow disappeared abruptly.
Derrick was gone.
And there you have it. Assuming you read the story starters. As you can tell, I'm sort of into fantasy and the supernatural. So if you fell into the category of people who can tolerate my writing, but don't like the plots of the stories I've started, keep in mind that I like those two genres if you make suggestions for something else.
I would LOVE feedback on this. The more ideas I have on where to take this, the more likely I am to get started :D