Creative Writing: A Fictional Narrative

“Well wouldn’t you look at someone weirdly if you had just saved someone from a demon?” he cleverly tossed back at me.

He turned to look at me and grinned down making me suddenly feel cold despite the heat.

“You can have it,” he says. I smiled, I was so excited! I never thought he would give it to me. “Really?!” I ask. He started to look through more of his old things and took out some things and put them off to the side and I also looked through those boxes.

"Oh?" I responded after a drawn out silence hoping that he mistook my blatant staring for something else. The smirk he sent my way however said he knew exactly what I was

"Sh, it's okay. Just put your head back on my shoulder" he said. He then took off his jacket, putting it on me.

I nodded and stepped forward to wrap my arms around her shoulders. She hugged me back.

The man, with a little smile, said, “Sure, she’s right in that room. The door is right in front. Over there.” He pointed to the door.

I gestured to room with a swoop of my arm, “I mean, look, the walls are white now.”

“Can I have one?” he said. I was confused, then I realized, he saw me take it.

"I'm sorry... I don't want you to think that I'm pervert... Can you forgive me, pretty?" He grinned, and I did as well.

"Yeah I mean no...well my part as usual I got jealous again." I felt Lysander hand grab my shoulder softly.

“Oh, well, that’s good to hear.” I pulled the parcel onto my lap and opened it. It was the fox’s turn to get curious as he placed his head into the opening.

"Look at what is in front of you... look closely." he gently pushed against her. She growled and her tail twitch in irritation, "I still see my own reflection, looking back at me! That is all!" she snarled.

She's pushing her way into his room, not giving him a chance to stop her. God, this girl is pushy but he loves her anyways. She's looking around his room and all of a sudden he's self conscious about how bare it is. Only a bed and a desk, it was obvious he never made himself at home. Why should he? He's a broken and dying man, there's no reason to call a place home if you won't stay there long. "So are you happy now?" He asks her, looking into her crimson eyes. They take his breath away every time. "You're always pushing me around all the time." He tells her, but she doesn't seem phased at all, keeping her smile on her face. "You're just gonna ignore what I want, huh?" Now she has a smirk on her face, a playful smirk.

“I’m fine, it’s okay.” I answer. It’s not. I’m not okay. I’ve been “released”, as General Tre would call it, on medical terms. No more army, no more fighting, no more justice. Normally I’d be happy, but under the circumstances given, it’s completely different.