This is a "who knows?". So I got to ride a new horse today. AWESOME. The girls at Par Ex are holding a sleepover there. I was like BOMB!!!! I found a new song for Gemma. Big Girls Don't Cry. Go listen. NOW! (After reading my story.)
"Sahirah Foster."
The intimidating voice calls my name. I shiver inwardly, not really wanting to go. I make my way toward him. He pulls out a knife. My breath catches in my throat.
"Wh- what? What is this? You intend to fight me? A boy, barely a novice? This must be a joke."
The girl comes out of the shadows. Her hair falls over her shoulders perfectly, looking like a goddess. When she speaks there no trying to ignore the coldness in her voice,
"We, intend to."
"This wasn't part of our promise."
"Promises break all the time."
A noise makes all of us look over. The boy pulls the girl over, whispering something in her ear.
"We must go."
"We will meet again." With having spoken those words the boy pulled the girl back into the shadows, using the darkness as a shield. I sigh and crumble to the ground, crying, with my shoulders shaking. After a few minutes the crying ceases and I shakily rise. I knew my life has been spared and was quite mad at myself for not expecting this.
Ya, ya I know. My prologues are short. I never seem to know how much information to put out. You should all go read Libba Bray's new blog about censorship. Tell if you like plot mmmkkkayyy? I must know! I feel kinda wacky cause of the absolutely positively weird way of writing. Tell me if I did it justice k?
I think we should make Libba our ruler!
Necily.