BostonAngel

The next day was filled with even more jarring horseback riding and barren landscapes. Amana tried her best to be patient and to fill her head with interesting thoughts to pass the time, but that never lasted long. Warren wasn't good for much conversation, though Amana didn't know if that was because it was hard to have a civil conversation while riding a horse or because he didn't like to converse. They had been riding for a few hours when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mayhem descending, seeming to aim right for her. Sure enough, before Amana had time to brace herself, Mayhem had landed in her left shoulder. The unexpected weight a

After walking for a solid twenty minutes, Amana and Warren broke through the tree line of the Poisonbottom Woods. Warren's bird, whose name Amana still didn't know, flew down to settle on his shoulder. It's intelligent eyes turn to Amana and gaze at her, almost knowingly. "This way," Warren said, leading her to the right. A short distance away there was a group of men and horses loitering around a campfire, about five men and six horses. They didn't notice Amana and Warren as they approached. "Men!' Warren called from the edge of the camp, his voice suddenly deeper and gruffer. The men jumped to attention, those who had been sitting on the g

Her vision cleared and Amana was able to look around at her surroundings. With a start she realized it was the garden she has seen in her dream. "That wasn't a dream!" she exclaimed, turning to look at the man next to her. "And neither were you!" Sure enough, it was the dark haired young man she kept seeing. "What is this? Where am I?" She tried to stand up but her legs gave way and she collapsed back onto the bench. "It's alright," the man said, putting up placating hands. "My name is Warren. I was sent to meet you and bring you home." "What does that mean?" Amana almost shouted. "Home? I was home!" She tried to stand again and this time

Tap. Tap. Tap. Amana stirred in her sleep, trying to ignore the subtle yet annoying sound coming from her window. Tap. Tap. Tap. There it was again. How long had it been going on, exactly? Amana couldn’t quite tell. She didn’t even know what time it was. All she knew is that it was dark and she was trying to sleep. Taptaptap It was becoming insistent now. With a huff of annoyance, Amana sat up in bed and looked over at her window. As she did she saw a movement at the sill. It seemed to be birdlike in movement and shape, though it was hard to tell despite the subtle lightening of the morning. The longer she stared, the more li

Something was up with the house next door. Amana didn’t know what it was, but there was definitely something up. The day after she saw the human shaped disturbance in the bushes, she decided to keep a lookout from her bedroom window, determined to discover something concrete she could analyze. A little after noontime, Amana began to feel hunger pains. But leaving her post didn’t sound like a good idea. What if whatever was hiding in the bushes decided to show itself while she was gone? No, she was determined to keep an eye out. She sketched the house and surrounding grounds while she waited. Hours passed and Amana realized the r

Amana walked into the doctor’s office with a purpose, taking in her surroundings as she went. The waiting room with a soft green color that Amana supposed was meant to be soothing. There were only a handful of people waiting in the cushioned chairs that lined the walls. To her right, Amana noticed the receptionist’s desk.   “Hello,” she said in greeting, waving a hand at the middle-aged lady sitting behind the desk.   “Hello, dear,” the lady returned, “Do you have an appointment with Dr. Smith?”   “No,” Amana replied with a shake of her head, “I was hoping you could offer me a

The walk into town only took about 15 minutes, if one were to walk a leisurely pace. Amana, however, was eager to get her hunt underway. It took her a mere 11 minutes to reach the edge of the tiny town known as River’s End. To say that the town was tiny was most likely an understatement; everyone knew everyone else’s business and no one seemed to care. The population of the town barely hit a few hundred, but the nature of the town was such that new blood was constantly coming and going. There were, of course, a host of residents who had been living in River’s End for generations, the Huxley family being a prime example. The

Surviving Not thriving When will this end? I put on my happy face so no one will see The horror and decay Going on inside of me. I feel like a shell An imitation Of what I can really be. My life force is dwindling; My bones are like kindling. But Heaven forbid anyone should see The horror and decay Eating away at me. But why do I hide This monster inside? Because no one wants to know. My body is shriveled And broken And raw Time drags on as I try to heal. But the monster inside will not let me feel As though I am worth the love of my man, Though he holds me, and love me and tells me I can. Go away Don’t make me pretend That