Alexandrea-Thayn

He waited for her. She was around the corner towards the end of the hall in a pretty yellow sundress with her arms and lips locked around another man. But still, he waited for her. He’d been waiting for her forever and he’d wait for her forever still. Because, even though she didn’t know it, she was waiting for him too. Michael Lannister had been in love with Maggie Sterling for as long as he could remember. It happened one day in kindergarten, when he had saved her from a pretty nasty bruise when she fell from the monkey bars. But, luckily, she landed on an un-suspecting Michael instead, who happened to be walking unwittin

 She dreamt of cities made of gold and glass and woke up every morning disappointed. Prying herself from the strange limbs keeping her tied to the bed, a sigh tumbled from her lips as her hand slid through her hair and her eyes scouted out her scattered things. The man beside her barely stirred beyond a snore, his bare back turned towards her becoming a billboard for all her regrets. Another unsatisfying night with another man she couldn’t name leading to another morning doing the walk of shame. With practiced ease, she dressed quickly in silence, pulling her dress over her body and shoving her legs through her panties. Her heels were

 Alisa glided down the corridor, at perfect ease despite the curfew bells having long since rung. She turned a corner and approached a group of men posted in ranks on either side of a large oak door. In the dim light, they could have been mere students, in both build and demeanor, save for the midnight blue cloaks marking them as Masters. Alisa remembered the first time she had seen the eight of them trailing behind the prince heir. All of them were small, thin, and unassuming. They certainly didn’t seem to hold the sheer strength required of a Master Magician to hold all their artifacts.  Many of the students, particularly the males, s

The summer wind felt cool on my face as I crept out my window. My bare feet touched the grass, and I stepped into a pair of flipflops. The moon hung in the sky, my lantern in the darkness. Hoisting my bag onto my shoulders, I darted in the shadows to the forest. I followed a familiar path to a flickering fire in a clearing. A figure stood near a tree and I didn't need to see her face to know she was glaring at me. "You're late." "So? You've no reason to patronize me, Marla," I said, scanning the area. There was none one else. An alter was by a tree and I was pleased to see she hadn't touched it. Upturning a large stone, I fished out the le

 The church spires could be seen anywhere someone looked in the town. It was the community's shining star—the ray of light and hope when the dark clouds of misfortune tumbled unceremoniously into our lives. Its comfy pews were worn with repeated use by hundreds of people over hundreds of years. This church in which I spent every Sunday morning was perhaps the only place I was truly at peace. My sole sanctuary. But today, I didn't want to go anywhere near it. Today, I didn't have a choice. "Come on, Cara," my mother hissed, her hand snaking to my wrist, closing it in its grasp and pulling me up the stairs. Briefly, I struggled, but so

 By the time Benjamin came to, he was in different clothes and Malik was being severely reprimanded by the king. He groaned as his vision refused to clear and blinked repeatedly in an attempt to get some vision. Suddenly he was being dragged up by his hair, forced to be face to face with his aunt. "What kind of weakling are you?" she hissed. He stared at her, unsure what she meant or why she was grabbing at him so early in the morning. However, this was his aunt in default. She was always angry at one thing or another. Benjamin screwed his face, trying to remember what had happened the night before. "You are supposed to be strong," his au

 Papa first told me about them when I was six years old in a story that eclipsed centuries. Bearing Lady Aurora's mark, they stormed through villages at dusk and created an artificial day that left ashes and wails in their wake. They were Morte's Stallions, streaking through the night, dotting it with ice blue streamers and brandishing swords quick as lightening. Descending upon villages under a red moon, they were nothing but blurs of their blue eyes and shadows. Their blades were said to never bear a spot of grime or blood. But no one had seen them in years and never once had I laid eyes on a sanguine moon. Instead, my nightmares were plagu

She smelled of daffodils and sakura blossoms and was as bright as the newest blades of grass. In the rare times she visited me, Hana lit up my world, making me completely forget the subzero habitat I had made for myself, and thrust me into the clutches of the various seasons. Spring had always been her favorite, the time she was at her peak and happiest. Her ever changing hair was always pink at the tips in spring, compared to the muddy brown they always appeared in winter. It was during spring she was always my biggest threat, my worst enemy, my best friend. No matter what defenses I put up, she always overcame them. At her fingertips, she