This is In the Forests of the Night, only in my certain twist. Risika has
not been born, and here we set our scene in a highly religious family of
the Weatere's. Rachel is still Rachel, still an innocent human. Duh, you
should notice that. This is her point of view. Most of this is using quotes
and such from ITFOTN. I tried to stick to the book, at least a little.
As you all know, none of these characters are mine. NONE. The plot is kinda mine. These characters are strictly owned by my favorite author, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. Please enjoy what I have written, and maybe lay a review down for encouragement...
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"Am I a freak?" I shook my head slowly as I continued to scrub the burned parts of our fireplace. My beautiful brother, my twin, could never hurt a fly. He would never touch anything in a harmful manner unless he was protecting me or Lynette, my half sister.
"No, Alexander, you are not a freak." I answered him with sadness in my voice. My knees were beginning to ache since I was kneeling there with holey jeans. I didn't mind though, I was worried about my brother. Casually I wiped at a streak of ash on my pale cheek. My brother insisted the accident was HIS fault.
Our half sister, Lynette, was currently at the hospital with our father for medication. She had been been adding wood to our fire when the flames came up and licked her skin. She wasn't burned horridly bad, but not that far away from bad. "Well, you are my sister, my twin," Alexander sighed, staring at the now cold fireplace. "You would say that no matter how odd I became..."
"Why don't you ask Dad or Lynette?" I did not wish to look at him. Already I could feel his golden eyes staring at me, waiting for me to help him. But that was something I could not help with. I had no idea what he was going through.
"Tell them what I see? Tell anyone that I can look into people's minds, and that I can..." Alexander trailed off, but we both knew what he was going to say. For months, my brother had been trying to hide his powers. He told me that he could hear the thoughts of others, and if he concentrated on an object long enough, he could make it move.
Alexander was a beautiful young man. Even I must admit that he is not hott, as girls might say, but beautiful. Despite the fact that he wears baggy t- shirts and loose jeans, spikes his wheat golden hair, and can be very offensive towards others, he has a personality that draws you to him. And his eyes. Dad tells us we have our mother's eyes. Our eyes are golden, an exotic honey, an eerie gold. Many assume they are those kind of contacts, but they are not.
"It's freak stuff Rachel," he whispered shamefully, "How can I tell them that?" I had no answer. If my brother would try to explain it to someone, he could be thrown into a padded room. If he showed anyone, Alexander would become some science specimen.
"Maybe that is what happened to our mother," he said quietly, "Maybe I hurt her."
"Alexander!" I shouted at him as I turned to face him. "How can you blame yourself for her death? We were just babies!" I was shocked at his accusation at himself. Our mom died a few days after we were born, and now Alexander blamed himself for her death. Which was completely crazy!
"If I can lose control of my powers when I am seventeen, how much easier would it have been to lose control when I was a child?"
"I do not know Alexander," I sighed as I begun to furiously scrub the walls that were now black with burn marks. I was not good at being sympathetic, no matter how hard I tried. I was never a sympathetic type, except for my brother. He brought out the kind side in me. I am rather rude in school.
"I have homework..." he muttered before turning and going to his room, which was upstairs at the end of the hallway. He looked so hard on the outside and yet he was as fragile as a glass elephant deep down. I loved my brother will all my heart and soul.
I sighed again and threw down the rags that were now covered in black, then wiped my face in attempt to brush off a small trickle of tears down my cheek. I only smeared the ash. Shaking my head in frustration, I moved into the small bathroom we have on the first floor. When I got to the mirror, I only shook my head again and began to scrub off the dirt with a pale blue washcloth.
Alexander and I shared the same color hair, a golden wheat color. We most likely got our hair from Mom, whose hair was a few shades lighter than ours. I barely glanced at my honey eyes or my pale skin before I got a full look at myself. A sleeveless crimson tanktop hugged my body in all the right places, and the low cut left little to the imagination. Dark navy blue jeans with holes at the knees encased my legs, and my feet were covered in combat boots.
Dad and Lynette came home a few hours later, a bit after 11. I was in the kitchen, working on my homework. Lynette and I shared a room, but it was so dirty with clothes that I had no space to actually sit anywhere.
My half sister walked into the kitchen, a white bandage encasing her burnt arm, and opened the fridge with a slight wince. Both of our mother's were dead, and so we had more in common than most half sisters. "How long was the wait?" I asked her as she sat down with a glass of milk.
"Forever," was her tired response. I didn't blame her at all. Waiting in the hospital for several hours with a burnt arm must have been exhausting.
"There were other people who needed extreme tending," my father came into the room with a tired look that matched Lynette's tone.
"You should both go to bed," I ordered as I took the glass of milk away from my sister and the icecream from my father. He ate the weirdest things at late hours. "Now." I had become the motherly figure of the house ever since Lynette's mother died. Neither of them even argued as they moved upstairs.
And then it was just me. Thinking of my brother, so lost and confused, I dug a spoon into the icecream as I sat down and went back to my homework. The rich vanilla cream made me sigh. The math printed in the books that lay infront of me were tempting me not to work on them.
Sighing, I kept the spoon in my mouth as my hand gripped a pencil and I continued working on the stupid useless math.
I did not know that my life would change soon. Too soon. In only a few weeks, I would have no need for math, I would not crave for the vanilla frozen treat, but something that I would never dream of.
Lord save me.
*******************
See.....most of this was written in writer's block. I just really wanted to write this....SO BAD!! Anyway, please review. Bad story, but work with me here.
Krikoris
As you all know, none of these characters are mine. NONE. The plot is kinda mine. These characters are strictly owned by my favorite author, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. Please enjoy what I have written, and maybe lay a review down for encouragement...
***************************
"Am I a freak?" I shook my head slowly as I continued to scrub the burned parts of our fireplace. My beautiful brother, my twin, could never hurt a fly. He would never touch anything in a harmful manner unless he was protecting me or Lynette, my half sister.
"No, Alexander, you are not a freak." I answered him with sadness in my voice. My knees were beginning to ache since I was kneeling there with holey jeans. I didn't mind though, I was worried about my brother. Casually I wiped at a streak of ash on my pale cheek. My brother insisted the accident was HIS fault.
Our half sister, Lynette, was currently at the hospital with our father for medication. She had been been adding wood to our fire when the flames came up and licked her skin. She wasn't burned horridly bad, but not that far away from bad. "Well, you are my sister, my twin," Alexander sighed, staring at the now cold fireplace. "You would say that no matter how odd I became..."
"Why don't you ask Dad or Lynette?" I did not wish to look at him. Already I could feel his golden eyes staring at me, waiting for me to help him. But that was something I could not help with. I had no idea what he was going through.
"Tell them what I see? Tell anyone that I can look into people's minds, and that I can..." Alexander trailed off, but we both knew what he was going to say. For months, my brother had been trying to hide his powers. He told me that he could hear the thoughts of others, and if he concentrated on an object long enough, he could make it move.
Alexander was a beautiful young man. Even I must admit that he is not hott, as girls might say, but beautiful. Despite the fact that he wears baggy t- shirts and loose jeans, spikes his wheat golden hair, and can be very offensive towards others, he has a personality that draws you to him. And his eyes. Dad tells us we have our mother's eyes. Our eyes are golden, an exotic honey, an eerie gold. Many assume they are those kind of contacts, but they are not.
"It's freak stuff Rachel," he whispered shamefully, "How can I tell them that?" I had no answer. If my brother would try to explain it to someone, he could be thrown into a padded room. If he showed anyone, Alexander would become some science specimen.
"Maybe that is what happened to our mother," he said quietly, "Maybe I hurt her."
"Alexander!" I shouted at him as I turned to face him. "How can you blame yourself for her death? We were just babies!" I was shocked at his accusation at himself. Our mom died a few days after we were born, and now Alexander blamed himself for her death. Which was completely crazy!
"If I can lose control of my powers when I am seventeen, how much easier would it have been to lose control when I was a child?"
"I do not know Alexander," I sighed as I begun to furiously scrub the walls that were now black with burn marks. I was not good at being sympathetic, no matter how hard I tried. I was never a sympathetic type, except for my brother. He brought out the kind side in me. I am rather rude in school.
"I have homework..." he muttered before turning and going to his room, which was upstairs at the end of the hallway. He looked so hard on the outside and yet he was as fragile as a glass elephant deep down. I loved my brother will all my heart and soul.
I sighed again and threw down the rags that were now covered in black, then wiped my face in attempt to brush off a small trickle of tears down my cheek. I only smeared the ash. Shaking my head in frustration, I moved into the small bathroom we have on the first floor. When I got to the mirror, I only shook my head again and began to scrub off the dirt with a pale blue washcloth.
Alexander and I shared the same color hair, a golden wheat color. We most likely got our hair from Mom, whose hair was a few shades lighter than ours. I barely glanced at my honey eyes or my pale skin before I got a full look at myself. A sleeveless crimson tanktop hugged my body in all the right places, and the low cut left little to the imagination. Dark navy blue jeans with holes at the knees encased my legs, and my feet were covered in combat boots.
Dad and Lynette came home a few hours later, a bit after 11. I was in the kitchen, working on my homework. Lynette and I shared a room, but it was so dirty with clothes that I had no space to actually sit anywhere.
My half sister walked into the kitchen, a white bandage encasing her burnt arm, and opened the fridge with a slight wince. Both of our mother's were dead, and so we had more in common than most half sisters. "How long was the wait?" I asked her as she sat down with a glass of milk.
"Forever," was her tired response. I didn't blame her at all. Waiting in the hospital for several hours with a burnt arm must have been exhausting.
"There were other people who needed extreme tending," my father came into the room with a tired look that matched Lynette's tone.
"You should both go to bed," I ordered as I took the glass of milk away from my sister and the icecream from my father. He ate the weirdest things at late hours. "Now." I had become the motherly figure of the house ever since Lynette's mother died. Neither of them even argued as they moved upstairs.
And then it was just me. Thinking of my brother, so lost and confused, I dug a spoon into the icecream as I sat down and went back to my homework. The rich vanilla cream made me sigh. The math printed in the books that lay infront of me were tempting me not to work on them.
Sighing, I kept the spoon in my mouth as my hand gripped a pencil and I continued working on the stupid useless math.
I did not know that my life would change soon. Too soon. In only a few weeks, I would have no need for math, I would not crave for the vanilla frozen treat, but something that I would never dream of.
Lord save me.
*******************
See.....most of this was written in writer's block. I just really wanted to write this....SO BAD!! Anyway, please review. Bad story, but work with me here.
Krikoris
