The Power Game I: The Tale of the Enchanted

Miraculously then, Malistaire disappeared into smoke, black and wicked, blending into the night surrounding them without an explanation as to why. He left me alone with questions. He left me alone in the hell of which he created. I was left with the ashes and blood of my family, the newly found discrimination from the world, without a home, and the beginning of a war on my hands. But that’s not the worst part. It was the fact that it was the beginning that frightened me.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Poem (That may be in the story)

I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you cut your hair
I hate the way you drive my car
I hate it when you stare

I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind
I hate you so much that it makes me sick
It even makes me rhyme

I hate the way you're always right
I hate it when you lie
I hate it when you make me laugh
Even worse when you make me cry

I hate the way you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

This poem will be in the story, but with different words. I'm not going to say for who, or when, or why, but you will see ;) Think of it as a sneak peek, really.

-Bloody Mary