Creative Writing: Graciéla

“Not bad,” replied Gabby, who had thrown her bag up on the counter and was trying to fish out a lighter, “just got off!” Both of her stockings had a run in them and flicks of discarded food stuck to the sides of her tennis shoes. Her dress was black and sparkling. Vernon could tell she worked at another diner the moment she got out of the cab. The waitress flipped over an empty cup and poured out what was leftover of the coffee. Gabby had lite her cigarette, inhaled a drag, took a sip, and exhaled out a thick cloud of smoke in one single breath. “Ended up pulling a double?” The swirls in the smoke seemed to actuate Gaby's words. “Don’t remind me!” replied the waitress, who had removed one of her flats and was rubbing her heel, “I’ve been on and off my feet since 9:30 this morning.” Gabby looked towards the front of the diner at the back of Vernon’s head and then back at the waitress. “Rough night?” “Nope,” replied the waitress, “he’s been coming in here late for the last month or so, keeps to himself.” They both could see that Vernon was moving his hands while he was talking to himself. “We still on for tonight,” asked Gabby. “Maybe,” said the waitress, “as long we can get a table.” The band aids on the back of her heels needed to be replaced with new ones. Gabby

Quiet screams escape her, causing the boy's eyes to widen. His mind tells him to approach her, but that's from past experience. He knows she's changed since then. He knows.

I dropped down next to him and later my head on his shoulder. “He was a strong, handsome little boy,” Sam whispered into the night, “he didn't deserve to go like that. He should grown up, gotten out of this place, and made a better life. He should've had better… he should've had better.” As he spoke my eyes grew damp.

Samael's eyes too filled with tears, but they weren't tears of sadness or even pain, but of joy. He smiled widely, a trembling hand lifting to gently caress Amaimon's cheek, brushing away his own tears. He knew it must have surprised his brother, especially considering the way he cried so suddenly. He could see an immeasurable amount of guilt in his mate's gaze and he knew it tore him asunder. It hurt, it did, but it didn't matter, being with Amaimon like this mattered. Over The last few months together Samael had learned once again how to read his brother's emotions easily and he knew just by looking up at him and that guilt that just as he had the earth King had imagined this. He'd thought of this too, but slower, gently, just like the time

And how twisted was the world, that his victim would forgive him before he forgave himself? That after he’d raped her, he was the one crying, it was him needing her comfort? She was always like this… this frightening mix of strength and vulnerability, both built upon suffering he, back then, could never even fathom. Now though… now he was beginning to understand what made her like

Eve felt strange. A dull, buzzing feeling in the pit of his stomach had started up, somewhere between the end of his last battle and waiting for someone to call his name for the next round. It ate away at the adrenaline that had consumed him in the heat of the moment and demanded that he acknowledge its existence, despite not having any idea what it was. He knew emotions. Wasn't an expert in the matters, or even very good at identifying them in others, but some part of Eve had always considered his knowledge of himself as a sort of given. After all, who was he to attempt to understand other people when he couldn't even understand everything about himself?

She’d search for a trace and then track it back to whomever it was, if there was even a culprit. For all she knew this could have been years of guilt finally catching up to her. It could’ve been manifested in visions of the coven she had killed. Her own family. Though the way these dreams were played out, it was unlikely that it was her. The locations ranged from local to places she had never even seen before. Only two things remained the same: her death and the sight of her ex-coven. With a deep breath, the red head placed her hand on top of the notebook, her eyes closing slowly. “Draíocht a mianach. Aontú le mo anam agus a bheith mianach.” She recited the incantation, the magic flowing from the book into her body. It was as if life was being returned to her once more. Her muscles moved more fluidly. Her shaky knee not even wobbling. The ginger was at

Through her squinted eyes, she saw about two dozen confused faces staring back at her. As she looks around she realized they are all boys. She gasped as a boy jumps into the box near to where her body was hunched over. He has a very slender face, blonde hair, and wide eyes. He reached out his muddy hand towards

She had never had much freedom. She was grateful for the opportunity to be involved as she was now in the realm of humans. However, she hadn't the slightest clue what to do in this exact moment. She had been found out. To what extend, she wasn't sure at the moment nor did she have time to think. And now? Her focus shifted to the man she yanked herself from. Red eyes flashed maliciously, swirling with dark promises of pain.

As the shadows turned into solid shapes and then into bodies, he saw that the boy was barely a teenager, short and pudgy. He looked around at those around him, blinking, trying to make out someone’s face, anyone’s face, and soon their faces did gradually grow clearer to him. He realized that they were all just teenagers. Kids.

While she regarded him so thoroughly he barely looked at her, except to make eye contact and give her a complete grimace so she would truly understand his mood. In the coming months he will wish he had taken more notice of her, had created more of a mental image with which he could remember her. Her mousy face, and dull brown hair. He honestly couldn't recall what color her eyes were. Deep down he knew it wasn't his fault, how could he have known this would be the last time he would see her?

She stood behind him as he blindly looked through the dimly lit basement. He turned to the right, so close to where she was standing with his gun raised. When he turned around full she raised the paperweight and went to strike. Except the knot in her stomach stopped

When they reach Estelle Louise’s driveway, Clemmy Sue eased the Ford into the entrance, and stopped thirty feet from her mailbox.

He looked over towards the front door and grimaced. "You didn't tell me he was bringing more than just himself." He gave Alex a dirty look.

As he neared, he saw that it was a young woman in about her twenties. So utterly defeated was she that she made no effort to defend herself against him and only fluttered her eyes shut while whispering a prayer that she was certain would fall to deaf ears.