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starry-eyed-reader · 4 years

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A Lonely Christmas

A city. It’s not overly large nor overwhelmingly small. It’s draped in its finest holiday garments. The city’s many brick and concrete buildings are dusted in several inches of powdery snow which fluttered down from dark grey clouds. Banners depicting Christmas scenes hung festively from black street lamps. Red, green, yellow, blue and white blinking lights were strung, hovering over the city. They lit up the city with a festive glow. The roads are abandoned, slush plowed into patterns by long gone cars. Lush wreaths and vibrant garlands decorated the softly glowing stoplights. In the numerous store windows, snowy landscapes were painted in delicate swirls. One building’s lights were still glowing, surrounded by lifeless counterparts. They were quickly extinguished.

The building was Natura, a bakery. It’s a small family owned shop, kept in the family’s hands for five generations. The cobblestone building had stands filled with jovially adorned gingerbread houses, flavorful fruitcakes and other fanciful Christmas baked goods presented in the window. A small bell rung cheerfully into the air as a group of five left the store. They laughed and bickered playfully to each other as one of them locked the door to the bakeshop.

Nick Sparrow, a young man of about twenty-three secured the door tightly, shaking the doors to make sure. Perched upon his head is a grey knit beanie, with his short ruffled dark brown hair escaping from underneath it. It’s defying gravity. His light brown eyes sparkle with joy as he turned to face his friends. His cheeks were flushed a dull red from the cold.

“So, what are you guys gonna do for Christmas?” Nick asked cheerfully. “We could have a party, just the five of us!” he continued hopefully.

Emily Graham, a woman of thirty-two and co-owner of Natura turned to answer him. She’s a motherly woman who tried not to dote on Nick - who was the youngest and smallest of the group. She failed, quite often. Her long blonde hair was frequently falling out of a messy braid to frame her face. There was always a streak of flour to be found under her green eyes. Emily was easy-going until her anger had risen or she found hidden wounds - literal or otherwise. She was holding a brown paper bag filled with Christmas treats in her arms. She faced Nick.

“Sorry, love,” she apologized in a light English accent. Many years living across the pond from her homeland had worn away the grown in influence. She smiled, chagrined. “We already have plans.” She gestures to her husband, Peter, with folded arms.

“We’re flying to his parents tonight, and we’re in charge of bringing the desserts.”

Peter listening to the conversation, nodded at his wife’s words. Peter Graham, a man of thirty-six, was a deceptively gentle and sweet man. He’s largely built, looking like a modern age Viking. He towered over the group at 6 foot 6 inches. He’s shaved bald with a bushy black beard covering his face. His fierce brown eyes gazed at Nick thoughtfully. In his tattooed arms were multiple brown packages tied with white strings.

“You know, you could always come with us,” Peter urged in a soft accentless voice. He continued, “Momma would love to see you. I’d bet she’d fall in love with you the moment you walk through the door.”

Nick’s cheeks deepened in color, a flood of embarrassment floating through him. He hadn’t met Mrs. Graham but Peter repeatedly sings her praises and urges him to visit with them. However, his eyes dull a little, and his shoulders hunch closed defensively to his body under his charcoal black peacoat. Nick doesn’t want to meet new people during Christmas. He wanted to stay home with his new family friends. Nick stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets as a flash of disappointment flooded through him before he masked it with a disarming smile.

“No, no, it’s alright.” He shook his head. “I’ll just stay home and watch some Christmas movie marathon on T.V.” Nick then got a flash of inspiration.

He spun to the other two of the group, Kita Briggs and James Northington.

“Whatta ‘bout you two? We could have a Christmas movie marathon.” Hoping to cajole his friends into coming, Nick continued. “Just think about it . . . “Rudolph”, “Jack Frost”, “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas”. It’ll be fun!”

Kita, a smart business woman of thirty-five stood in the middle of the sidewalk. She absentmindedly tucked a strand of curly black hair behind her ear. Snowflakes landed silently upon her head, making a wintery crown. Her amber eyes looked sharply at Nick.

“No can do, suga’,” she calmly replied in a thick Southern accent. She smoothed out the red skirt she wore to be festive. “I’m flyin’ Virginia tonigh’ for the annual family vacation.”

She stepped forward and brushed an uncharacteristically motherly kiss on Nick’s cheeks, which bloomed into a brighter pink. He hid his face in his black and yellow scarf feeling shy and startled at the friendly touch. It’s unknown to him.

“I gotta go. I’ll call when I land, and I’ll see y’all when I get back,” she continued.

Kita walked off into the swirling snow while the group waved and shouted goodbyes. James, the eldest of the group at forty, turned to Nick and clasped a fatherly hand on Nick’s shoulder. His curly blonde hair was tucked away under a striped blue and white hat and his bright blue eyes gazed fondly at the remaining three. He tugged Nick closer to his side.

“Sorry, bud,” he said in a deceptively soft voice for his size. “I gotta go upstate and help Da with taking care of this house that he’s being paid to babysit.” James hugged Nick to his side before continuing. “But if you’re free after New Year’s, we could go out, watch a movie, maybe?”

Nick tried desperately to hide his disappointment. He didn’t want to go home to his cold apartment. He swallowed the knot in his throat and threw up a weak smile.

“Sure, James,” Nick replied in a quiet voice. “That’ll be cool. We could go down to the theater on 5th.”

James nodded slightly and fully embraced Nick. Nick buried his face into James’s coat covered chest, trying to hide his watering eyes. After a long and unending moment, James patted Nick’s back a few times, then let go. Emily pulled James into a hug before letting him go as well. James turned to leave, pulling his grey coat closer to himself. A brisk winter wind was beginning to pick up. He saluted a goodbye to Nick, Emily and Peter. Nick watched him leave, his throat tight. Peter saw this and narrowed his eyes at Nick.

“You sure you’ll be alright, Nick?”

Peter laid a hand heavily on Nick’s shoulder. The heat seemed to sink through Nick’s coat to his body.

“You can always come with us. Momma won’t mind.”

Nick smiled. He took his hand out of his pockets and waved them at Peter, brushing off his concern.

“No, no. that’s alright! I don’t need to come with you.” He smiles brightly - fakely, trying to hide his cracking facade. “I’ll just stay in and watch somethin’ on T.V. with Percy.”

Peter said nothing, arms crossed his broad chest, unspoken things drifting between the two. He watched Nick, searching for . . . He didn’t know.

Nick continued, “‘Sides, I wouldn’t want to mess up your time with your family!” A thought drifted through his mind: Do they think of me as family? I bet they’re just playing along and humoring me.

After a few moments pause, Peter sighed, uncrossing his arms and walking toward Nick, who stiffened slightly, unnoticeable. He relaxed as Peter just hugged him, pulling him close. Nick buried his face into Peter’s shoulder, hiding away from the unfamiliar emotion of concern. Peter rumbled, his voice shaking and echoing through Nick deep in his chest. “YOU are family, Nick.”

Overwhelmed, Nick hid himself more, digging his nose into the crook of Peter’s neck. They stayed there for a minute then broke apart, Peter patting Nick’s shoulder as Emily bustled forward, unable to hold herself back anymore. She started to straighten Nick’s coat and his scarf.

“Emily…,” he whined embarrassed. He squirmed in her grasp wanting to simultaneously pull away and fall forward into her arms. Looping the scarf around his neck and face snugly, Emily spoke softly. “Just come with us. I don’t like the idea of you home alone in your apartment with noone around.”

Nick squirmed, uncomfortable with the idea of being the interloper, the interrupter. He didn’t want to be the one that ruined their Christmas.

“NO!”

He hadn’t meant to shout. Nick, softer now, spoke, “No, no, I’ll be fine. Go be with your family.” Emily looked at him intensely for a moment.

Then, sternly, Emily commanded, “Now Nicky, make sure to eat right, not just those chocolate chip muffins I know for a fact you have in your apartment. Eat that beef stew I gave you. I don’t want to come back to a bag o’ bones.” She softened, resting a soft hand on Nick’s cheek. “We’ll miss you. It’s just for a few days, until New Years’. Then we’ll be back. Promise me you’ll be alright, OK? “

Nick covered her soft hand with his own calloused hand.

“I promise. Now go!” Nick urged. He pushed her away slightly. “You’ll miss your train.” He continued to urge them when they didn’t move.

“Go!”

Finally, Emily and Peter relented, turning away from Nick and leaving.

Nick stayed in front of the store, watching as Emily and Peter walked off with shoulders brushing each other. He waited until they rounded the corner to the train station before curling into himself and sighing. He instantly regretted not taking their offer. Now he really was alone for Christmas.

To himself, quietly almost inaudibly, Nick whispers, “Bye.”

Nick dejectedly began to walk to his apartment, not bothering to flag down a taxi. His head was down, watching his feet on the dirty sidewalk, not on the few people who were still out and about in the worsening weather conditions.

Nick started thinking to himself - thoughts that made his mood worse.

This’ll be the first Christmas without going back to that town. But it’s the first Christmas without everyone around me. No one’s here to help make the ham or the mashed potatoes. I don’t even know if I can remember how to make Moma’s Dutch oven apple pie, let alone have all the ingredients to make it.

Nick stopped to let himself into his apartment building, climbing up the four flights of stairs to his apartment.

“This is going to be a lonely Christmas,” he sighed.

Nick pushed the door of his apartment closed behind him and turned on the harsh light in the kitchen. He bent down to pet Percy, a small kitten with grey fur with small patches of white on his paws and chest. The kitten wound himself around Nick’s legs before prancing over to a red bowl filled with water placed on the white tiles of the kitchen. He took off his coat and hung it on a hook by the door, followed by his scarf. They began to drip in the warmth of the apartment.

Nick walked into the bedroom and kicked off his black weather-beaten boots at the foot of his bed. Pulling off his blue knitted sweater, he walked into the bathroom. The sounds of a shower starting echoed through the empty apartment. It continued for several minutes, Nick savoring the heat of the water.

Nick appeared from the bathroom, letting the steam bellow into the bedroom. There was a red towel wrapped his still skinny waist. He then dressed in a pair of light grey sweatpants and an oversized green sweater that he’s had for forever. He shuffled into the living room and settled on the leather couch in the middle of the room. Pulling off the knitted blanket off the back of the couch, Nick wrapped it around himself as he slumped on the couch.

Nick sat in the dark, the kitchen light the only illumination. He hadn’t decorated because “What’s the point when no one’s gonna come and visit, ya know?” he has said to Percy. Percy skipped over and sat on his lap. He began to knead his legs as Nick pat him. Nick then curled up, trapping Percy in the huddle of his body. His head rested heavily on his knobby knees.

“I hate Christmas.”

#starrywrites #Lonely Christmas #Holidays #OMCS #OFCS #Nick Sparrow #Emily Graham #Peter Graham #Kita Briggs #James Northington #Percy #Christmas

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starry-eyed-reader · 4 years

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I just watched the end of Assassination Classroom, and I’m sobbing my eyes out.

#starrytalks #starrywatches #personal #assassination classroom #korosensei #nagisa shiota #crying myself to sleep #anyone else?

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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My cat saw me crying over the ending of Merlin, so she sat on me and purred until I felt better. I feel better, but I’m still sobbing.

#starrytalks #starrywatches #merlin #poor merlin #why? why? why?#cats #personal

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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The Mysterious Orion’s Hollow

In honor of Halloween. Please leave credit when you reblog. Mind the cut, as this is a long post.

In the sleepy little town of Orion’s Hollow, there was a rumor - a ghost story, if you’d like - about the mysterious manor on top of the hill. Riddle Manor, as known by the local townsfolk, was owned by the extremely prominent family of one Cyrus Riddle. The Riddle family had been living in the manor for as long as the townsfolk could remember, until one day, they just vanished. Gone, and without a trace. The inhabitants of the town below -the hill searched for them for years, until the disappearance of the Riddle family eventually sank into obscurity.

After the disappearance of the Riddle family, the manor on top of the hill had several different families move in. Coincidentally, they were all families of four, and these families always vanished a couple of years after moving into the manor on the hill. The cycle of disappearances would continue a few years after the latest family had disappeared.

Once the residents of Orion’s Hollow had linked the disappearances to the manor, they warned potential buyers away. As the years crept on, Riddle Manor was abandoned and decayed. The ruined estate was reclaimed by nature, ivy clinging to its dark stones. The only people who visit the manor are historians and teenagers, pressured into going by daring peers.

Such a group of teenagers was foolishly walking up the faintly packed dirt path up the hill to the manor. They were quiet, whispering about what had brought them there.

A student had transferred to their school a few weeks ago, and the new student, Damian, had quickly adjusted to the new area. After a month, Damian had dared a group of teenagers to spend the night in the manor. At the time, the group of four felt oddly compelled to accept the dare. Unknown to the group, as they had turned to return to class, Damian’s eyes flashed red - blood red - behind their backs. He had chuckled darkly under his breath, then - POOF! - he was gone, and any thought and memory of him were gone, erased from everyone’s mind, except those he had dared.

The teens, having reached the top of the deserted hill, stopped in front of the manor. They warily looked at the desolate Riddle Manor. It loomed forebodingly over them. In one of the upstairs windows, a curtain moved slightly, not enough to be caught by the teenagers below, but enough for the unseen watcher to see his prey.

“Come on, guys! It can’t be that bad,” encouraged Claire, a bubbly girl. Her long honey gold blonde curled ponytail swayed in the brisk October breeze. Her green eyes sparkled as she bounced in place, smiling widely at her friends.

“It can’t hurt,” remarked Finn, scuffing his black and white sneakers against the dirt. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes smiling at his friends. His sister, Scarlett, joined him, adjusting his black cargo jacket.

“He’s right, you know,” she responded in a quiet voice, her chestnut brown hair tumbling down her back. Despite the agreement, she looked apprehensively at the manor. “What do you think, Nick?”

Nicholas - or Nick, as he was known to his friends - stared at the manor, silent. He felt something about the estate, something wrong. He kept it to himself though and turning to the others, said, “We won’t know until we go in. And it’s almost sundown.” His amber eyes gleamed in the approaching dusk, muscles shifting under his Orion’s Hollow Ravens hoodie as he crossed his arms.

They stood there, staring at Riddle Manor, aware the night was fast closing in, and soon they would have to enter. A vibrantly red-pink and orange painted sky was slowly covered by dark clouds rumbling in the distance. Fallen leaves skittered across the ground, blown away by the wind. Then Nicholas, wordlessly, went up to the grand oak door and turned the brass doorknob. The door stuck having been unopened for decades. Bracing his body against the door, Nicholas shoved it with his shoulder, making it spring open. Nicholas stumbled forward but recovered, ushering his friends into the dusty entrance hall.

The inside of the manor was filthy, dust clinging to every surface the four teenagers could see. Spiderwebs perched in corners and archways and draped themselves over decorative pieces in cabinets and walls. Furniture that had not been taken by previous owners were covered by white sheets. The entire manor was like this - ancient and forgotten.

Claire looked around the room, her dark grey jeans-clad legs shuffling. "Ya know," she suggested, "We could explore the manor more if we split up." She tugged at the rolled-up sleeves of her pale pink shirt nervously. Claire didn't want to split up, not really.

"Maybe," said Finn, his brilliant mind going through all the possible outcomes of splitting up. "I don't think it would be a problem, as long as we tell each other where we are goin'. And," he pointed out. "we come back here in an hour or so and regroup."

"Okay then," said Scarlett. "I'm gonna go find the library," she told the group. "I heard that the original owners, the Riddles, owned some rare books, and I wanna see if I can find them to give to the library."

Claire laughed and wrapped an arm around Scarlett’s waist. “I should’ve expected you to want to find the library first,” she said good-naturedly. “I think I might join you.” Together, the two went further into the manor, laughing and leaving the two boys by themselves.

Finn turned to Nicholas and shrugged, said," Do you want to help me find Cyrus Riddle's study? I've heard that he had kept his journal and ledger inside his desk." Nicholas nodded, and the two went upstairs, thinking that the study would be on a higher floor.

Unseen by any of the four teenagers, Damian suddenly popped into existence outside of the manor. He slyly withdrew a bronze key from out of the pitch-black robes that he wore. He placed the key in the keyhole on the manor's grand front door and sinisterly turned the key. "Click," went the door and Damian smirked and disappeared just as suddenly as he magically came into existence. He left the four youths oblivious to the fact that they were trapped inside the Riddle Manor.

Further inside the manor, Claire and Scarlett approached the manor's enormous library. Claire listened fondly, not hearing as word of Scarlett's rapid chattered about the rarity of the Riddle library's books as they walked down the cobweb-covered hallway. Scarlett was waving her hands excitedly as they drew closer to the manor's hall of literature. Claire smiled as Scarlett, not even noticing they had reached the library, continued to ramble about the wonders of the library. Scarlett cut herself off with a gasp as Claire pushed open the library's heavy wooden doors.

Scarlett eagerly entered the archive of literature, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. Finding a tall, slender candle and a match by the door, Claire smiled as she lit it, listening to Scarlett's whispers of joy. She flinted around to several of the floor-to-roof bookshelves, muttering to herself. Claire followed more slowly, frowning to herself. She didn't like the way the library felt - suspicious and threatening. It was like something - or someone - was watching her. She looked around her warily but found nothing.

"Scarlett?" Claire called, walking over to where Scarlett was combing through a rather old and fragile looking book. However, Scarlett ignored her. "Hey, Scarlett!" she called again, this time shaking Scarlett's shoulder.

"What?" Scarlett responded, irritated.

"I don't like this," mumbled Claire, looking at her hands. "This library... it doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?" Scarlett asked, now concerned, closed the book and placed it back its spot on the shelf. Claire shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I don't know, it just feels. . ." she trailed off, thinking to herself. Threatening, malicious, evil. ". . . Wrong," she finished.

"Well," Scarlett ran a hand through her loosely curled hair and sighed. She watched Claire as she shivered, looking around the library cautious. "Do you wanna go find the boys?"

Claire looked relieved. Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Yes, plea-" A crash of thunder cut her off. Both girls jumped, startled. The candle Claire had lit when they had arrived, and placed on a near-by table flickered and went out. The two girls grasped each other's hand and stepped toward the door. Before they could reach it, a wind began to wrap itself around them. Scarlett wrapped her arms around Claire tightly as the mysterious wind squeezed them closer together. Their hair whipped around wildly in the wind. And in the deepening darkness growing in the library, two twin screams rang out into the silence.

Upstairs, Nicholas and Finn weren't having much luck finding Cyrus Riddle's study. They had climbed up the manor's elegant staircase, guided by the flashlight on their phones. Wandering up and down the hallway that the staircase spilled out into, the two boys searched the many rooms lining the hallway. Looking for Cyrus Riddle's study. Finally, they stumbled upon it when Finn tripped on the blue woven hallway runner. As he automatically reached out for something to catch himself, Finn's hand latched onto the ivory figurine of a robed woman.

The figurine did not fall alongside Finn. It was not pulled by Finn's weight and crash to the ground. Sticking out from the cabinet that housed it, the figurine had acted like a lever and activated the opening to Cyrus Riddle's study.

Finn accepted Nicholas's helping hand up. Then he jogged over to the end of the hallway, where an opening appeared.

"Hey, Nick?" Finn called out. Nicholas did not reply from the cabinet of antiques he was looking at. However, he did lumber over to where Finn was puzzling over the opening.

"Could you hold your phone over the opening so I can see?" asked Finn.

Again, Nicholas did not respond. Just did as Finn asked. With the opening lit so he could see, Finn knelt and examined the hole, peering into the darkness. Inside the hole was a small set of stairs spiraling upwards into the murky darkness. Finn looked at Nicholas and with his encouraging nod and squeeze of Finn’s shoulder, started climbing up the stairs. Nicholas trailed after Finn, shining the flashlight ahead of Finn. The wooden boards creaked under their careful steps, and his and Nicolas’s soft breathes echoed in the silence.

At the top of the stairs was a small room, big enough to hold a handsome wooden desk and a few hand-carved bookshelves. A small circular window was built towards the top of the eastern-most wall. Documents were scattered across the desk, undisturbed by time. It was as if the owner had just stepped outside and would be back soon. Yellowed newspaper clippings were plastered on the walls next to the desk. Finn stepped forward to investigate the clippings on the wall and the desk. Nicholas, however, stopped him with a touch on his shoulder. Finn glanced back to Nicholas.

"Nick, wha-" With a crash of booming thunder, Finn was cut off. Seconds later, the two girls' screams rang out throughout the still air. Finn looked at Nicholas, then panicked, the two boys raced down the stairs and the corridor. Their footsteps echoed in the empty house. To Finn's surprise, the hallway was filled with dark smoke, cloaking everything in a deep haze. The two boys continued running down the corridor, hoping against all hopes that it wasn't their friends that just screamed. Finn panted as he hurried toward the grand staircase.

"It's- it's like this- this hallway keeps- keeps going," Finn panted exhaustedly. The smoke surrounding him thickened. Finn's head swam, choking on the black smog. His vision was fading in and out of focus, and his heart pounded in his chest. Finn stumbled, was caught by muscular arms, but lost consciousness before he and Nicholas collapsed on the floor.

An unknown room somewhere deep inside the manor was dimly lit. A few torches were hung on the roughly hewn stone walls. Puddles of filthy water littered the far right corner of the room. Nothing surprising for a crypt underneath Riddle Manor. Except for the pile of teenaged bodies in the center of the packed dirt floor. A tall, muscular teen lay on the bottom of the group, the other three somehow lying on top of him. Two girls are plastered to his sides. A smaller male, skinny and petite, is sprawled across the bigger male's chest.

In the corner of the room, shadows thickened until they solidified into an extremely tall and slender figure. The figure was robed, it's blackened gray hood drawn over its face. Blood red eyes watched the teens, searching for any sign of them stirring. A few minutes of silent observation passed by. Then, one by one, his charges awakened. They awoke slowly, pushing themselves up carefully. The four youths hovered over each other, making each other was alright. The robed figure gave them a moment, then cleared its throat. Four pairs of eyes focused on it.

It locked its blood-red eyes with the golden-haired teenager - Claire, it recalled - and soon placed her under its control. It made her stand and come to it. She stumbled over to the corner and stood there, swaying. The next to fall under its spell was the brunette - Scarlett - and had her repeat her unfortunate friend's actions.

It took a bit longer, and more power, but it soon had the petite male - Finn - under its will. It made the teen lurch over to the two girls and support their swaying weight. The last teen - Nicholas - was stronger than the rest of his friends, and so it took the robed figure more time and power to wrestle the teen's consciousness under its control. The androgynous figure had to fight the teen's fierce protectiveness. But soon, the teen was subdued and under the spell.

The figure had completed its task. It removed its hood and in doing so, revealed to the teens that their captor is Damian, the transfer student. Damian, a demon, was sent to the school on a mission. The Underworld needed new demons. Damian's purpose was to locate new demons. And these four teenagers practically fell into his lap.

"Now . . ." he mused to himself. "How to get you there. . ." He thought to himself and remembered that there was a fireplace in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He snapped his long and slender fingers and noticed that the teens were so under his control they had not flinched at the sudden sound.

"Nicholas." Said teen snapped to attention body held stiffly and head tilted up. "You are to carry Claire and Scarlett upstairs. You are to follow me as I lead you there," Damian instructed. Nicholas carefully placed the two girls over his shoulders. The girls complied listlessly and clung to the soft material of his sweater.

"Finn." The teen turned to his forced master. "You are to follow Nicholas and help him through the manor." Both men nodded their understanding. Damian was pleased with his charges' obedience. Abruptly, he turned and walked to the think wooden cell door. Flinging it open, Damian strode upstairs, his four charges following him up the rickety stairs like demented ducklings.

Upstairs, Damian led his charges into a little-used parlor. He started a small fire with a click of his fingers as the teenagers followed compliantly. Reaching into his pocket, Damian withdrew a small pouch, made of leather and tied closed with a frayed piece of string. Opening the container, he took a pinch of powder inside. The substance sparkled in the light and flashed a brilliantly bright blue when thrown into the fire.

The way to the Underworld was revealed. He turned to his charges and addressed them. "This is the start of your new life," he proclaimed. "You will remember nothing of your old life. You will only remember me, and the four of you. You will forget everything else - your mother, your father, anything of your old life.

"You now work for me. If you behave, you will gain privileges. You will do your job, and you will do it well. Is that clear?"

The four former teenagers bent their heads and whispered, "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Follow me." Turning his back on his charges, Damien stepped into the bright blue flames. The four teens rushed forward, forced worry painting their faces. Damian lifted a hand, stalling their progression. Clearly announcing, "Lucif Damien's office," he vanished in a flash of intense red light. The teen followed their master's orders and repeated his actions. They, too, joined the centuries-long string of disappearances at the Riddle Manor.

In the morning, their parents were concerned but soon forgot that they had children. The four teenagers were erased from the minds of the townsfolk of Orion's Hollow. They never remember the truth.

#starrywrites #Orion's Hollow #halloween #fiction #OMCS #OFCS #Nicholas #Finn #Scarlett #Claire #Damian #demons #tw: loss of control #tw: kidnapping #tw: forced control #if there's more triggers let me know

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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Autumn

In honor of the first day of fall. Please leave credit when you reblog.

It's a bright, cloudless day in the middle of autumn. It’s brisk with a slight chill to the air. The tall trees in the park have leaves embellished with cheerful yellows, deep reds, bright oranges, and dull brown. They flutter to the ground in graceful loops, twirling to land silently on sidewalks. Those crisp fallen leaves crunch under the feet of busy passers-bys.

The sky is clear, painted that bright blue of fall. A playful wind cheerfully wave the branches of the trees and tosses the ends of peoples scarves up into the air. They stream behind these busy people like banners. Rosy cheeked strangers smile politely at each other over cups of pumpkin spice lattes. The smell of warm pumpkin, of rich cinnamon, of juicy apples waft into the air from the numerous open doors of cafes and bakeries nearby.

On a faded wooden bench, the red paint nearly peeled off, in the middle of the park sat Aiden. He’s madly scribbling into a worn and beaten leather journal. Black headphones trail down his body to his slender waist, where his phone with the Deathly Hallows case sat. His grey-blue eyes glint with a creative spark often seen in writers and artists. It's a look that's commonly seen in the students that attend the local college. His hair, the color of chestnuts, is messily blown about as he bobs his head to the music pouring into his head from the headphones. His booted feet tap along to an unheard beat.

He pauses in his writing. A look of frustration ghosts across his face, then in a frenzy of inspiration, continues to write. A man older, much older than Aiden approaches him. Aiden looks up irritated that his flurry of inspirational writing was disturbed. His irritation was erased with a gleeful grin as he leapt up from his seat and launched himself at the broad-shoulder man walking towards him.

“Pa,” he shouts with joy as the giant like man caught his bean-pole like son and swung his around, blue eyes glimmering with excitement. A few swings later, Aiden is set on his feet, asking his father why he is here. Aiden’s father booms out a laugh, setting his calloused hands on Aiden’s thin shoulders.

“I need a reason to visit my favorite son?”

Aiden grins and retorts, “I’m your only son!” Aiden's father ruffles his son's hair while Aiden shouts in protest.

“Let's go somewhere to catch up.”

Aiden nods and guides his father to the street where they catch one of the cities infamous yellow taxi cabs. They take a cab to one of the cafes littered down the street. Its small but cozy. The baristas are friendly and the atmosphere is cheerful. Aiden and his father find a small corner booth and slide onto its plush red leather seats.

Over cups of coffee, Aiden describes his life at college, that for the past two months he had been making friends and working hard. His father nodded along, smiling absently at his son excited gesturing. After their talk, the two embrace tightly before going on their different journeys. They were both happy and content that they have seen each other.

#starrywrites #Autumn #part 4 #fiction #OMCS #Aiden #Aiden's father #first day of fall

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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This just in: this writer is a Hufflepuff!

#starrytalks #personal #Hufflepuff pride #hufflepuff #harry pottter #hogwarts

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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Summer

In honor of the first day of summer. Please leave credit when you reblog.

It’s a sunny, balmy day in the middle of summer. It’s mild with a pleasant breeze in the air. The tall trees in the park are dressed in bright greens. They wave cheerfully in the slight breeze, birds chirping musically while flying past. Strangers smile care-freely at each other over cups of fruit smoothies and slushies. They smell juicy watermelon, of plump strawberries and grilling hot dogs wafting into the air from the numerous doorways of cafes and bakeries nearby.

Walking at a relaxed pace on the grass clipping covered sidewalk is Aiden. He’s glancing around the picnic covered park in an effort to de-stress and work on his summer project. Green headphones trail down his white and yellow striped T-shirt to his slender waist, where his phone with the Avengers symbol case sat in his pocket. His blue eyes glint with a creative spark often seen in writers and artists. It’s a look that’s commonly seen in the students that attend the local college. His hair, the color of chestnuts, is ruffled as his head bobs along to the music pouring into his mind from his headphones. His body sways slightly to an unheard beat.

He pauses in his journey by a chipped wooden bench, the red paint beginning to peel off from use. A look of frustration ghosts across his face, then in a flurry of inspiration whips out a worn and battered leather journal from his pocket and sits on the bench uncaring of the warmth it might have gathered during the day. He hurriedly writes out ideas before they're lost to the void of lost thoughts. A man - older, much older than Aiden - approaches him. Aiden looks up, irritated that his flurry of inspirational writing was disturbed. His irritation was erased with a gleeful grin as he leapt up from his seat and launched himself at the broad-shouldered man walking towards him.

“Pa,” he shouts with joy as the giant like man caught his bean pole like son and swung him around, blue eyes glimmering with excitement. A few swings later, Aiden is set on his feet asking his father why he is in the park. Aiden’s father booms out a laugh, setting calloused hands on Aiden's thin shoulders.

“You looked stressed this morning. I saw you coming to the park, so I decided why couldn’t I visit my son?”

Aiden grins and retorts, “You always see me.” Aiden's father pats Aiden’s hair while Aiden shouts out in protest.

“Let’s go something cool.”

Aiden nods and guides his father to the newly paved roadway, where they catch one of the city’s infamous yellow taxi cabs. They take a cab to one of the cafes down the block. The cafe is small but cozy. The baristas are friendly and the atmosphere is cheerful. Aiden and his father find a small corner booth and slide onto it’s worn-in red leather seats.

Over tall glasses of chilled milkshakes, Aiden describes his frustration with his summer project, that for the past month he had struggled with finding a project that fit him. His father nodded along, smiling absently at his son’s frustrated movements. He shares stories of his own frustration when he was Aiden’s age. After their talk, the two embrace tightly before going their separate ways. They were both happy and content that they had seen each other.

#starrywrites #Summer #season #part 3 #fiction #OMCS #Aiden #Aiden's Father #first day of summer

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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Avengers: Endgame

Just finished Avengers: Endgame. Was quietly sobbing my eyes out, and joining in on the claps of the crowd. From 2008, with Iron Man until now. It’s been a marvelous 11 years watching my heroes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Iron Man was my first hero, and will always be, no matter what. Thank you for always being there. From 2008 to 2019; from when I was eight and daddy was my hero to now where college is the next experience. In the words of Cap: Avengers Assemble!

#starrytalks #real life #personal #crying myself to sleep #avengers endgame #spoiler free #tony stark #iron man

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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A Rain Storm

In honor of Earth Day. Please leave credit when you reblog.

During the budding of spring, there is a sense of anticipation. The tension builds and builds, brewing into a stormy stew. The heat simmers for days, steeping with mugginess, until - with a crash of thunder - it reaches the boiling point. The sky grows grey and cloudy, trapping the world under a dome of stillness.

Experiencing the break of tension is an event I love. I rummage through my closet for my raincoat, wrapping it around me while I grab my umbrella on my way out the door.

It’s misting, slowly thickening into a fine rain.

The ground shimmers with fallen water and it’s cool on the soles of my bare feet.

The rain drums away at my head. I had forgotten to open my umbrella or pull the hood on my raincoat up over my head.

Tipping back my head, I let the raindrops roll down my upturned face, sliding past my closed eyes.

This is what I love. Taking the time to enjoy and experience nature.

Hearing nothing but the splashing of rain on the leaves of the flowers

Feeling nothing but the cool concrete and rainwater on the bottoms of my feet, splashing my calves.

The air is cool, but compared to the bitterness of winter, it feels wonderful on my skin.

Everything is beginning to smell fresh; as if the rain has renewed the earth - the world - and washing away all my worries and doubts.

It’s feels as though it’s cleansing me.

But then darker clouds roll in, giving a tremendous crash and growling loudly. Lightning streaks brightly across the sky. I startle and begin to shiver as the air turns brisk. The wind is beginning to pick up. I hurry into the house, the wind whipping my hair around my head. I continue to watch the storm in front of the large living room window, slowly rocking back and forth in Dad’s old recliner, wrapped in the comforter dragged off my bed.

If I get sick a few weeks later . . . I’ve got this memory of peace to last a lifetime.

#starrywrites #Rain Storm #personal #nature #rain #Earth day

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starry-eyed-reader · 5 years

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“Spring”

In honor of the first day of spring. Please leave credit when you reblog.

It’s a lukewarm, partly cloudy day in the middle of spring. It’s slightly brisk with a brief warmth to the air. The tall trees in the park quiver with small green beginning of leaves decorating their limbs. They dream of the day they’ll bloom into vibrate greens with the warmth of the sun.

The sky is streaked with light grey clouds that threaten a refreshing rain. A previous rain sparkles on the various bright and colorful blooms growing in the park. A prevailing wind sweeps through the city, tossing away the chilliness of winter. Pink cheeked strangers smile cheerfully at each other over cups of lemonade and fruit punch. The smell of petrichor, of juicy blueberries, of sour lemon wafts into the air from the numerous propped open door of cafes and bakeries nearby.

On a freshly painted bench, the red paint gleaming, is Aiden. He’s sitting with his eyes closed, face tilted to the sun enjoying the brief visit. He’s reflecting on what to say at his upcoming graduation in a couple months. Blue headphones trail down his imitation military jacket to his slender waist, where his phone with the Hobbit phone case sat. His blue eyes pop open, glinting with a creative spark often seen in writers and artists. It’s a look that’s often seen in this college town. His hair, the color of chestnuts, is ruffled by the slight wind as he bobs his head along to the music pouring into his mind from his headphones. His booted foot bounces along to an unheard beat.

He pauses in his reflections, then in a flurry of creativity, pulls a worn and battered leather journal from his pocket. He writes out a quick paragraph toward his graduation speech. A look of frustration ghosts across his face, then in a flurry of inspiration, continues writing. A man - older, much older than Aiden, approaches Aiden. Aiden looks up, irritated that his flurry of inspirational writing was disturbed. His irritation was erased with a gleeful grin as he leapt up from his seat and launched himself at the broad shouldered man walking to him.

“Pa,” he shouts with joy as the giant-like man caught his bean pole like son and swung him around, blue eyes glimmering with excitement. A few swings later, Aiden is set on his feet, asking his father why he is in the park. Aiden’s father booms out a laugh, setting his calloused hands on Aiden’s thin shoulders.

“It’s been 5 minutes since you said you’d meet me. I came looking for you.”

Aiden grins and retorts, “Whatta about me, I’ve been waiting 10.” Aiden’s father ruffles Aiden’s hair while Aiden shouts in protest.

“Let’s go somewhere out of the rain.”

Aiden nods and guides to the flower petal strewn street where they catch one of the city’s infamous yellow taxi cabs while fat raindrops fall. They take the cab to one of the cafes down the street. It’s small but cozy. The baristas are friendly and the atmosphere is cheerful. Aiden and his father find a small corner booth and slide onto it’s new plush red leather seats.

Over cups of fruit punch, Aiden describes his frustration with his graduation speech, that for the past two weeks he had struggled with finding a theme for the speech. His father nodded along, smiling absently at his son’s frustrated movements. He shares stories of his own frustration when he was Aiden’s age. After their talk, the two embrace tightly before going their separate ways. They were both happy and content that they had seen each other.

#starrywrites #Spring #season #part 2 #first day of spring #fiction #OMCS #Aiden #Aiden's Father

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