kyeugh
onion witch
- Pronoun
- she/her
Here, have a bit of creativity.
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Caine subconsciously heard a small sound and awoke for a moment. He would have fallen straight back asleep, and had forgotten about the brief awakening by morning, but the small racket continued. He moved his forearm across his eyes and sat up a little, surveying his room for the source of the noise. It was gone now, but he recognized it as the pitter-patter of feet against the hardwood floor.
He instantly became afraid, as any human does of the unknown. He still was not sure exactly what the sound was, but he knew it was a living thing. Whether it was a mouse or a crook, he didn’t know. Yet that chance that was something that sought to harm him, which seemed exceedingly high, frightened him, and he held his breath so he wasn’t detected.
Then there was a sharp thud on the floor, and an unclear whisper. Caine slowly sunk into his bed again and pressed his head into the pillow, digging his long fingernails into his palm. There was a quiet rustling now, like the movement of cloth. “Who’s there?” Caine said bleakly. The faint whisper came again, but he still couldn’t make anything of it.
Very quietly, he reached upward, at the string that controlled the light on his ceiling-fan. He took care to extend his arm very slowly. The hour arm on a watch moved faster than his own.
Eventually, he felt the string of metallic beads in his fingers. He quickly jerked it down, and blinding yellowish light flooded the room. Caine noticed something retract slightly. He eyed it, and saw it as a figure completely covered in black clothing. A hood covered its face. Under close observation, he discovered who it was.
“Father?” He got up out of bed, confused. “Caine,” his father beckoned with a rasp in his voice. He removed his hood, and Caine gasped. His skin was wrinkled and sagging, and his hair was thin and silver. His eyes were dusty and sad. “Help,” he wheezed.
Caine slowly approached him. “Father, what happened?” he said. He felt his voice crack. His father raised his arm, and stroked Caine’s face. His hand was bony, and the skin on it was tight. “My boy,” he said faintly, almost a whisper. “You must run. The Odynes are here.” Caine’s heart skipped a beat. The Odynes were a heartless cult of murderers that had risen to power recently. They were known to run from place to place, slaughtering anything that moves in their path.
“They’re here?” Caine choked. “Now?” His father nodded slowly, a small tear falling slowly down his face. “You must run, my boy.” Caine hugged his father tightly. “I will, father,” he replied. There was a loud clatter just outside Caine’s room. “Go! Avenge me, Caine!”
Caine felt a prickly lump in his throat, and his eyes began to burn. He knew his father would not last much longer. There were so many things he had left to ask, such as why he appeared so old, or why the Odynes had chosen to invade their isolated property. Yet there were matters at stake that there were more important. “Goodbye, father.”
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Lé First Chapter
Caine subconsciously heard a small sound and awoke for a moment. He would have fallen straight back asleep, and had forgotten about the brief awakening by morning, but the small racket continued. He moved his forearm across his eyes and sat up a little, surveying his room for the source of the noise. It was gone now, but he recognized it as the pitter-patter of feet against the hardwood floor.
He instantly became afraid, as any human does of the unknown. He still was not sure exactly what the sound was, but he knew it was a living thing. Whether it was a mouse or a crook, he didn’t know. Yet that chance that was something that sought to harm him, which seemed exceedingly high, frightened him, and he held his breath so he wasn’t detected.
Then there was a sharp thud on the floor, and an unclear whisper. Caine slowly sunk into his bed again and pressed his head into the pillow, digging his long fingernails into his palm. There was a quiet rustling now, like the movement of cloth. “Who’s there?” Caine said bleakly. The faint whisper came again, but he still couldn’t make anything of it.
Very quietly, he reached upward, at the string that controlled the light on his ceiling-fan. He took care to extend his arm very slowly. The hour arm on a watch moved faster than his own.
Eventually, he felt the string of metallic beads in his fingers. He quickly jerked it down, and blinding yellowish light flooded the room. Caine noticed something retract slightly. He eyed it, and saw it as a figure completely covered in black clothing. A hood covered its face. Under close observation, he discovered who it was.
“Father?” He got up out of bed, confused. “Caine,” his father beckoned with a rasp in his voice. He removed his hood, and Caine gasped. His skin was wrinkled and sagging, and his hair was thin and silver. His eyes were dusty and sad. “Help,” he wheezed.
Caine slowly approached him. “Father, what happened?” he said. He felt his voice crack. His father raised his arm, and stroked Caine’s face. His hand was bony, and the skin on it was tight. “My boy,” he said faintly, almost a whisper. “You must run. The Odynes are here.” Caine’s heart skipped a beat. The Odynes were a heartless cult of murderers that had risen to power recently. They were known to run from place to place, slaughtering anything that moves in their path.
“They’re here?” Caine choked. “Now?” His father nodded slowly, a small tear falling slowly down his face. “You must run, my boy.” Caine hugged his father tightly. “I will, father,” he replied. There was a loud clatter just outside Caine’s room. “Go! Avenge me, Caine!”
Caine felt a prickly lump in his throat, and his eyes began to burn. He knew his father would not last much longer. There were so many things he had left to ask, such as why he appeared so old, or why the Odynes had chosen to invade their isolated property. Yet there were matters at stake that there were more important. “Goodbye, father.”