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 Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)

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PostSubject: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Sat Mar 05, 2016 3:21 pm



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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Sat Mar 05, 2016 3:22 pm

Rules


1. All submissions should be in character of the posting character (exceptions will be made if you discuss with Jake). (i.e. if I post as Jake, it should be written from Jake's point of view, not from Victoria's).

2. All submissions must be a minimum of 150 words, and no longer than 1,000.

3. All submissions should be in third person as per the sites usual writing style.

4. Use of other people's characters MUST be authorised by the other handler.

5. One submission per character per prompt. (i.e. I can only post as Jake once, but I could post as more than one of my characters)

6. You must state which prompt you are writing at the start of your post - but this does NOT count towards your word count. If two prompts are stated, you may complete both, but only one can be submitted for the competition.
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Sat Mar 05, 2016 4:13 pm

Prompt 1

It was the day Brooke had been waiting for since… Well, since Joe and her got together. And she could not be more excited. Truth be told, she was so filled with emotion that she didn’t quite know how she felt - is was a mixture of elation and joy and excitement, and a hint of nervousness, though why she wasn’t quite certain. This was nothing to be nervous about. She was marrying Joe, and she was going to be with the most amazing man she had ever met.

She was standing outside, waiting for the procession to make their way before her. The weather was perfect, and both Joe and her had been beyond thankful for that, since they had decided to have their wedding outside. More specifically, they had found a forest venue, and at once they had agreed it was to be where they tied the knot.

No other place would suit.

Turning to look at her Caleb Walters, she grinned at him as he took his hand in hers. “Dad,” she murmured, softly, unable to force her voice louder than a whisper. “How did I get so lucky?”

There was no time for a reply, though, as the person in front of them moved forward, signaling it was Brooke’s turn to walk down the aisle. Slowly, they moved, and time seemed to almost freeze as she made her way towards Joe.

He looked amazing. No, beyond amazing. And she could hardly wait. Each step seemed to take a lifetime, but, eventually, she arrived at Joe. The usual exchange was made, with her dad giving her over to Joe, and whatnot, and then finally, they stood, facing each other, and she could see the tears already starting to form in his eyes. And, as the minister started speaking, she could feel the tenseness rising in her chest, warning her that, soon enough, she was going to cry, too.

But then they were being asked to exchange vows, and it took all of her concentration to remember the words she had written - for, of course, they had decided to personalise their promises to each other.

“Joe,” she started, taking a deep breath to focus her thoughts. “I have no promises to make, no vows, because I do not want to have to assure you of anything. Today, I have guarantees; I have truth and an open heart.”

She paused, looked Joe in the eyes, and suddenly, everything else faded away. The forest surrounding was perfect, reminding her of the first time they ever met, and the crowd of people faded away to nothingness; it was just Joe and her. There were no thoughts about anything except Joe, and the words that she meant with all her heart.


I offer you my support in all you do.
Know that whatever you decide to pursue in your life, you have me as your pillar, to lean on.

I offer you my honesty.
Lying to you has never been something I have ever considered, and I am not about to start now. I am an open book – I am your open book.

I offer you my heart.
There may be a few pieces missing, and it may not be as whole as it once was, but everything that is there – all of it, even the parts that nobody else has seen – are yours to do with as you please.

I offer you my trust.
In everything, in all situations, I trust you. I look at you and I can’t help but open up to you, to trust you with all I have. Nothing could change this.

I offer you my loyalty.
There will never be anyone beside you. I have never loved another man like I have loved you, and I will never love another man as I love you now.

I offer you my faith.
I will always believe in you, no matter what. I am like a child, looking up at you with wide eyes and unwavering faith.

And, above it all, I offer you my love, for all eternity.
In all situations and all circumstances, and through everything life has to throw at us, my love for you will never dwindle, only grow.


By the time she had finished, Brooke could feel the dampness on her cheeks, and smiled at Joe as she found that he, too, had glistening tears. But, somehow, he managed to get through his vows, and the entire time her smile could only grow bigger, as did her heart, something she didn’t think was possible.

Her focus was so on Joe that she didn’t realise that the minister had spoken until Joe reached forward and very gently lifted the veil off. Learning forward, slowly, they brought their lips to meet - not close to their first kiss, but one that meant so much more than all the others, because this one meant that they were finally married. She was finally ‘Mrs. Joe Astrid’, and they were finally united as one under law.

She didn’t bother to count how long their kiss lasted, but it ended too soon. Distinctly, she could make out the cheering and clapping of their guests, but it was far away, like the whisper of wind in some faraway field, and all she could hear was Joe whispering softly to her, I love you.

Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him again, gently, on the lips, a soft peck before pulling him in for a hug. Quietly, so only he could hear, she murmured, “Hey, Joe? The world is ours – we made it.”


[[OOC: Permission granted from Jake to write as Brooke Walters - now Brooke Astrid.]]
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Fri Mar 11, 2016 8:37 pm

Prompt 2

                            'All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts...'


— Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII

The performance was only at its climax, but it was time for Lyra Browne's curtain call.

Like a snake that had to shed its old skin, Lyra Browne must cast off her white swan feathers. Odette had been the role of her lifetime, but Odile, the Black Swan was her destiny, and it was time to step into the role she had always been meant to play. A role her brother had unwittingly pushed her into, a role she ultimately enjoyed and accepted.

After all, the only way to survive being in flames was to become one with the fire.

She could feel her white dress burning, the smoke rising to the ceiling as she spun on the stage. Slowly, white turned to black, and the feathers of her old self fell to the ground. The audience gasped in wonder—this was true magic they were seeing, even truer than the magic they could cast with their wands. A small smile played on Lyra's lips. These people did not understand magic at all. Play with fire, and you get burnt. And Lyra planned to burn them all with her.

The white feathers falling like snow carried who Lyra Browne was. And like Lyra, when they fell, they did not crash, but welcomed the ground with such grace and poise. Slowly, she felt Lyra Browne die. The mysterious accidents, the injuries which were meant to cripple her ballet career and her sanity, the threats, the tears she secretly shed, the ghosts who kept her human when she had to remain a bloody mask of serenity... they would all be turned into ash, and from ash she would be reborn.

She held her fingers, which were now the tip of her wings, to her lips. A final kiss before Lyra Browne's exit. She knew that somewhere, the stage manager was confused. The kiss wasn't a part of the programme, along with Lyra's next move, which was to extend the winged arm she had kissed to the audience as she slowly lifted one leg up to do an arabesque. Then, as if she were a muggle seeing a ghost for the first time, she leapt and landed on one leg, and with her arms over her head, smoke filled the stage.

Her wings were now a glimmering black, her eyes red and her grin wide as she looked at the audience with her head held high. She began to bend backwards, her winged arms held up high as if she were holding onto an invisible entity for dear life. The string instruments stopped playing, and only the sound of the melancholy piano remained as the smell of smoke filled the air.

The theatre was on fire.

It wasn't long before the screams started. This wasn't a fire one could easily put out. This was fiendfyre, and it was snaking its way around the theatre. As she closed her eyes and smiled, the fiendfyre began to take on the shape of a swan, and it was at that moment when she knew that Lyra Browne was dead.

Lyra Browne was dead. Her death was in the terrified widened eyes of the audience, in the cries of the children and the howls of those kissed by the swan fiendfyre. Her death was in the witches and wizards shouting out their loved ones' names, in the failed attempts of those who tried to leap at her and stop her. It was too late. They could only crumple to the ground, clutching their chest in pain as the Black Swan watched them with a smile.

Outside the theatre, wizards and witches tried to get in and stop the chaos, but not even Alohomora could unlock the doors. All they could do was to listen to the cries and screams of those inside, and the lone piano which the Black Swan had enchanted to continue even after the fire had started.

This was the Black Swan's love letter to the world. The world that had promised her glory and goodness, only to break her slowly with dashed hopes and dreams. This was her vindication, for all those years when she longed for love and instead found herself with deep scars. This was her ascension.

How must it feel for these people now, to know that they would die here? How must it feel for these children to know that they would never grow up to be Aurors, Quidditch players, or whatever it is they wanted? How must it feel for the lovers, to see their beloved for the last time and never have the chance to get married? How must it feel?

A laugh escaped from her throat before she could even stop it. It was a low chuckle at first, but soon it was resonating on the stage, and as the tears blurred her vision, she saw her brother's face, her Von Rothbart, her hero. Her tormentor. He was smiling at her, a smile which was both pitying and full of bored apathy. Only he was capable of such a smile.

The Black Swan laughed even harder, oblivious to the dead bodies around her. The screams were starting to die down, though the piano continued to play its mournful piece. From the stage, the Black Swan could see that her fiendfyre was not quite full, but it was beginning to run out of food. Much like how she would never be satisfied no matter what.

She called out to the swan fiendfyre, her black wings extended towards the fire as she beckoned. Her eyes were empty of any emotions, her smile a shadow of the mirth she had felt earlier. The performance was over. It was time for the Black Swan's curtain call. Then, as the swan fiendfyre flew nearer, a look of peace crossed her face, and it was only then when she discovered the closest thing to happiness.

With a smile, she stepped forward and let the swan devour her completely. The piano stopped playing. The performance had ended.
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Mon Mar 14, 2016 8:37 am

The saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’ was one that Finley now knew the full volume of.
 
And, to an extent, it was curiosity that killed the cat in this situation.
 
***
 
The team of Dragon Trainers moved without hesitation as the Horntail screamed in fury. They were trying to get to her open wound on her stomach, a fighting mishap as she tried to look after her young from the jealous male who had not been the father. But dragons had never understood the difference between a threat and their helping hands.
 
Finley hurried round the Horntail, his training echoing in his head as he moved. The Horntail’s best weapon – other than the fire it threw so openly from her mouth – was the tail after which it had been named. His job was simply to chain it down do that the others could get closer. A job Finley had done hundreds of time before. Dangerous, yes, of course, but not something he was incapable of doing.
 
***
 
“When will you be home, Maddie?” Finley had asked as he buttered the toast he’d made for his that morning. A habit he’d long since fallen in to.
 
“I will let you know, Finn, okay?” Had come the usual response. There were never certainties in Madison’s work, and he understood enough. She was a high ranking Ministry Official, of course she didn’t have a set schedule, per se.
 
“Do you want me to cook you something for dinner, or will you be out again?” Finley asked as he handed her the plate of toast as she came in to the kitchen.
 
“Don’t worry about me.” She had responded, but again, Finley had expected as much. Sometimes Madison had eaten when she was out, other times she came home just as he’d started cooking and he could amend the portion size as required.
 
This was normal, in the Allen house, but Finley couldn’t help but wonder why she rarely could give him a definitive answer. There were occasions she could tell him both answers straight but they were outweighed by the vague answers that came. The promises of making it up to him followed, Finley gave her a smile that said ‘I know’, kissed his wife goodbye and flooed off to work. The same conversation each morning for the past five years.
 
***
 
“Allen! MOVE!”
 
***
 
The sound of the door knocking had brought Finley from the book he was reading. Currently rereading the Sherlock Holmes series, or more specifically ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’, Finley had fallen in love, once more with the books, enjoying the dynamics between Watson and Holmes. He’d never been quite sure on Irene Adler, even now, at the age of twenty-eight, he didn’t know if he agreed with Sherlock Holmes’ view on the woman.
 
The knock sounded from the door again.
 
“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” Finley called to the door, true to his word arriving only ten seconds later and undoing it.
 
“Where is she?”
 
“Where is who?” Finley asked, confusion touching his features in that moment.
 
“Felicity.”
 
“You’ve… you’ve got the wrong house.” Finley responded, readying himself to close the door. But the man’s foot jammed the door, and he pushed past Finley with ease. Moving in to the house, and, at the first picture he found – their wedding picture – he stopped. Picking up the picture – much to Finley’s dismay – the man’s lips twisted in to a cruel smile.
 
“She got you, too.”
 
“That’s my wife, put that down.” Finley insisted, snatching the frame from the man and holding the picture close to his chest.
 
“You know what your wife does?” The man continued, and Finley nodded once, but uncertainty flooded through his system. She worked at the Ministry of Magic. In a department Finley could never remember the name of. But it was a law department… Madison had told him this much.
 
He trusted those words completely…
 
***
 
“FINLEY!”
 
***
 
Dominatrix.
 
No.
 
She plays with people to get what she needs from them.
 
No.
 
She’s lied to you from the beginning.
 
No…
 
If she lied about her job… then she could have lied about l-
 
NO.
 
If you just asked her-
 
NO.
 
What do you have to lose if you ask?
 
Everything…
 
***
 
Finley’s breath came in a short, sharp intake, but it had nowhere to go.
 
It felt like the wind had been knocked from him.
 
His hands had moved to his chest, for it hurt like it had when the man had come, except… maybe not as much… Something wet slid through his fingers, but Finley didn’t dare look down to see.
 
His legs gave way beneath him and he landed on his hands and knees with little and less resistance. In the distance he could hear it.

The wedding bells…

 
A cough shuddered through the man’s body, and as his mouth opened, blood splattered the floor beneath him. Finley tried to draw a breath, but his lungs refused this time, another cough, and his body shook violently before it fell to the floor.
 
You promised me… You promised me forever…
 
***
 
Finley Allen died at the age of twenty-eight, from a hole in his chest, where his heart should have been. A piece of poetic creativity in the gods, perhaps, or simply a coincidence.
 
His colleagues had not been able to save him after the tail of the Horntail collided with his chest. A single horn splintering through his chest, through his heart. After two short breaths, his body had given in to the inevitable.
 

A man cannot live without his heart in tact.
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Mon Mar 14, 2016 9:34 am

Prompt 2 - Trigger Warning

Dear Jason,


She lifted her pen and unconsciously brought it up to her lips to start nibbling on the end of it, staring at the two words she had written for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, she lowered the nib down, leaving an inch of space or so from the first line, and continued.


When was the last time I wrote? Too long. I’m sorry for that. School has taken up a lot of time, and I haven’t found anything of interest to write about.


That, she knew, was a lie, but she didn’t know what else to say. Plenty of interesting things happened on a daily basis - such as being tripped in the hallway not once, not twice, but six times throughout the day; having her homework stolen and torn up before she could pass it up in class; and all those names she had been called. There had been some new ones, today, and each time it surprised her. How much more creative could they get?


You know, brother, that I resented you for a while. In fact, I still harbor some ill feelings towards you, but not because you did anything towards me. Jason,


Chrisy halted again, glancing around the common room, almost as though to check she was alone, and found it quiet and forlorn. Of course it was; nobody else would be awake at this time of the morning. Forcing her attention back to the letter, she used her free hand to sweep back the hair that had fallen, wincing slightly as her fingers brushed against the bruise over her eye.

She had tried to fight back, today. For the first time in her life, Chrisy had decided that enough was enough, so when she was shoved, she had shoved back - and learnt why giving in had been the best option.

No names had been given to the Prefect that had found her on the floor. No, Chrisy didn’t need the same lesson twice.


Jason, you know how our parents have always loved you more. You are the ones with the brains, and you are the one pursuing a great career. As for me, we both know that I am but a disappointment to the family.


Her eyes moved to the report card that sat on her desk, received earlier that night. School holidays were around the corner, and she was expected to bring that home for her parents. But she knew that one Outstanding in Art would never satisfy them, especially not since the rest of her subjects had been a either an ‘A’ or a ‘P’. She had put in the effort, and many sleepless nights were spent pouring over textbooks and assignments, but the only effort that was ever recognised by her parents were the ones that were proved by results.


I have never been as gifted as you in studies. My talents lie in art, in drawing and painting, but that is not something that I could do for a living, and it is not something that mother and father would approve of.

We both know that the family would be better off without me. What use is a nobody? This, at least, I can answer: none.

I am not sorry, Jason. This is what everyone wanted. They are just too polite to say otherwise.

Take care, my brother, and tell our parents that I am sorry for failing them. This will be the last time I do so.



At this, Chrisy stopped, hesitated, and then signed her name at the very bottom. Carefully, she folded the letter in half and slid it into the envelope. Picking up the pen, she wrote, in print, “Jason Lynn” on the front, and then gently and lovingly laid it down on the table of the common room, placing her wand on top of it as a paper weight.

Chrisy looked around the empty room, taking in the sights and smells, as if committing them to memory, and slowly began to make her way to the balcony. The air outside was crisp and fresh as it usually was, and the light scent of flowers still lingered in the air - the hope of Spring time and new beginnings - like a mocking laughter, taunting her.

The grounds of Hogwarts was still and silent, and nothing moved in the shadows below her as she started to pull herself up over the edge. It was narrow, but there was a tiny ledge just below that she lowered herself onto, one hand holding onto the railing. Her eyes surveyed the ground below, eyes strangely clear and bright as she took a deep breath, let go, and stepped forward.

Chrisy fell, and for a moment, it felt as though she was flying - free from all restrictions - and all the years of torment and hurt fell with her, and away from her. And, finally, as darkness enveloped her and the ground came rushing to greet the 16 year old, she finally felt peace for the first time in years.


[[OOC: Note that I do NOT support suicide. There is always hope and it is NEVER the answer and if any of you ever feel worthless or that you need to do what Chrisy did, please PM me, or tell someone! Smile]]
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Tue Mar 15, 2016 3:38 pm

PROMPT 2

9 year old Lux

5 year old Annie

The rough rope scratched her neck and her fingers itched to pull it off but her hands were cuffed behind her back and there was nothing she could do. She'd never felt so helpless in her life before. Always one to be in charge and with power in her hands, Lux was unused to being completely unable to help herself. But it was her choice and she wouldn't change it for the world.


-------------------------------------------------


“Where’s Annie?” Lux panted at the kindergarten gate. She had been held back at school and was late in picking Annie up.

“ Oh, her father came to get her,” the teacher replied with a smile.

No! No, no, no.

This was her thirty-third foster home, a single father who came for Annie. The six-year-old had refused to go unless Lux was adopted too. It had been a huge mistake to go with the guy and Lux found that out the first night when he came into their room and carried Annie away. Lux had the good sense to follow and managed to stop the pedophile from doing anything to Annie. She’d used her magic involuntarily, outraged and angry as she was to see his hands on the girl in places they shouldn’t be touching. Since then, she did her best to keep Annie away from the demon, letting him satisfy his urges on her instead so he would leave Annie alone. But now she’d failed.

She ran all the way from the kindergarten to the house, her lungs burning up and her legs almost buckling under her only to see police cars surrounding the house and Annie’s blood-stained hands in cuffs.

“ What is going on?” Lux demanded.

“Annabelle Whitaker is under arrest for the murder of Gregory Smith and for practicing witchcraft. She pleaded guilty and will be sentenced to death,” the policeman replied.

“Are you freaking kidding me?! She's five, you idiotic cow fart!” Lux tried to push past to get to Annie but was no match for the burly policeman.

“Annie! Annie, listen to me. It’s going to be alright! Everything will be okay,” she called, desperately making eye contact with the poor confused girl.

Annie managed to give her a weak tearful smile before an officer shoved her into the police car.

“Hey, don't hurt her, you stinkaroo of a troglodyte or I’ll defenestrate you!” Lux yelled.


---------------------------------------------------


It was dark where they put her. Lux was used to darkness. She loved it, in fact. Often, she would lock herself in a dark bathroom just to get away from the world for a bit. But this darkness was different. It taunted her and Lux had never let herself be taunted before. It laughed at her, mocked her, screamed that she was powerless.

Lux distracted herself with thoughts of Annie. She’d joined the orphanage when she was two and for some reason, stuck to Lux. Lux had tried every trick in the book to scare the girl off but nothing worked and so resigned herself to having a little shadow. Over time, she’d grown fond of the girl - something she’d rather die than admit. Ironic now, since she was minutes from her last breath.

She remembered the way four-year-old Annie would insist on helping Lux with the chores even though she could barely hold a mop or broom, fold clothes straight or reach high enough to wipe surfaces. She remembered how Annie would wait at the gate for her to come back from school, winter, spring, summer, fall, rain or shine with her tiny hands clutching the railings and her head pressed against it so hard it would leave red marks on her cheeks and forehead.

Lux smiled at the memory.

Soon, she could hear the noise of the crowd through the dungeon walls. Seconds later, blinding light pierced through the room and her eyes squinted violently against the sudden change in brightness. The man took her arm roughly and dragged out through the dungeon halls and out into the courtyard where there was a raised platform. She was pushed up until she stood right in the center where grimy hands attached the rope around her neck to the bar above her head.


---------------------------------------------------


“The jury has found Annabelle Whitaker guilty of the murder of Gregory Smith and for practicing witchcraft and has hereby sentenced her to be hanged in the morning,” the judge droned.

“No!” Lux exploded. “It’s not true! It was self-defense. He’s a pedophile!”

She’d talked to Annie the night before the court hearing.

”He came to the kindygarten and took me away. I tried to stop him but the teachers wouldn’t listen. He took me home and he started...touching me and I was uncomptable,” she’d whimpered, struggling with the bigger words. “I screameded and I crieded but he wouldn’t stop. Then something happened and he bleeded and felled to the floor. I killed him, Luxie. That was bad.”

”You’re not guilty, Annie. You were just protecting yourself,”
Lux had tried to explain.

”But I killed him. And that’s wrong,”Annie reasoned.

”Yes, but you were protecting yourself,” Lux insisted exasperatedly.

”But I was still wrong,” Annie replied.

”No. No you weren’t!”[/i]

Annie refused to listen and instead pleaded guilty. It broke Lux’s heart to see two guards drag the tiny girl away. How could they do this? Was there no justice in the world?

“Stop!” Lux screamed. “Stop! I’ll take her place!”


---------------------------------------------------


“Does the criminal have any last words?”

Lux scanned through the crowed that had gathered to watch, her eyes picking out a restrained but struggling Annie easily.

“You’re not guilty. It’s not your fault. Do not blame yourself, you hear me? I love you,” she said.

Annie managed to break free and wove her way through the crowd, clambering up the platform and gripping Lux’s hand in a death grip. “I love you too.”

The trap door opened and the last thing Lux heard was Annie’s scream of anguish.

________________________________________________


Spoiler:
 
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Thu Mar 17, 2016 2:47 am

PROMPT TWO

Life is beautiful. Jane never pictured life like this. She never felt something so pure something so great. Everything seemed to fall into place. She had graduated Hogwarts, moved out of her parents home, reconciled with her estranged twin brother. Everything was good. Everything was pure. Everything was simple. Of all the good things that happened to Jane, why did something so catastrophic have to happen at that very moment? Why something not even magic could cure have to go wrong.

It turned something not so great, into something not so pure, and not so simple. It turned everything complicated and messy. It seemed as though Jane was a figment of everyone's imaginations. She didn't exist anymore. It was like she was drowning in an ocean. The waves crushing her until the last breath was taken. Until all the simple and good thing that Jane was, was gone.

As she laid in the bottom of the ocean, she saw her soul being lifted up into the sky above her. Going places she had never gone before. Perhaps it was going to France. She had always wanted to go to France. When her family moved to London, she thought for sure France would be the first stop. But no, it was to a place where she could learn to control her magic. So she pictured her soul going to France. Visiting the Efle tower, eating French baguettes and drinking hot tea at a little cafe on the side of the street. It was a beautiful perfect day. Yes, that was were Janes soul was going.

Jane wondered if anybody would ever find her. If she would fade into nothing. Did her parents miss her? Were they even looking? The last thing she saw as she floated down to the bottom was her brothers face. It somehow resembled hers. She knew they were twins but she never knew him long enough to actually look at his face clearly. This made her slow beating heart very sad.

Instead of giving up, Jane decided to fight. She decided to fight against the force that was pulling her down. She tried to breath but couldn't breath. She tried to move but couldn't move. It was as if her mind had shut down and she had forgotten how to swim. A skill she had learned as a child. She tried to cry, but the tears got mixed in with the salt water of the ocean and it got to the point to where she couldn't tell if she was actually crying or not.

Jane decided to give up. She never had a role model in her life who taught her to fight her battles. She never had somebody who taught her that love was something to fight for. All her life, she watched as her unhappy parents bickered and argued. Their marriage crumbled away into the ashes. What once was a happy home, had turned to dust.

She had watched as they tossed her brother aside as though he was nothing. All her life, love was a thing. Not a feeling. It was a privilege, and her unfortunate soul had to earn it. And as she fought for her brother one last time, she saw the last glimmer of hope fade to dust. When she floated to the bottom and saw her soul fly to France, she closed her eyes and thought of someplace good. Someplace pure. Someplace where she could live the rest of her beautiful life.
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   Fri Mar 25, 2016 8:58 am

Wow, guys! We really did have a good amount of entries this time! Everyone give yourself a pat on the back for entering the competition, because these prompts were not easy!

Now that I have (finally) recovered from all the ouchies you lot have given me, I have read through them one last time (and now any hope of having a heart in tact have been completely ruined!) and decided my personal favourite out of all of the entries!

So, Jake's winner of prompt two is....

LOR!


Lyra's post made me shiver, feel sorry for her, want to cry, want to hold her and a whole host of other things. It's beautifully written!

The prize is the pride of winning the competition (because Jake is too lazy to think of a good present!) but hold your head up high!

And to all those who entered, another great big well done! All the writing was beautiful!

I will post the next prompt... over the weekend if I can, so that we can continue this game!

ALSO - Melanie, you owe me a Madley wedding post, don't think you're getting out of this!
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PostSubject: Re: Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)   

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Prompt Two (TW: The Prompt Includes Death - So Continue on Your Own Discretion)
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