Eevee Van Helsing

SO, this writing challenge is such a bore. Eevn Raven Madison would agree that I should do more than just answer questions.

Writing, Write, Fountain Pen, Ink, Scribe, Handwriting
Pixabay Image

I should be providing short stories. Maybe I can insert myself as a fictional character that meets the infamous, Raven Madison from Vampire Kisses. Ooo, I like that idea. Anywho, back to the today’s topic.

Day 6: “what’s your fave thing about your heroine?”

She’s feisty.

Bright, Celebration, Dark, Fire, Firecracker, Fireworks
Pixabay Image

Raven Madison adores being the weird Gothic girl at her school and terrorizes anyone who makes fun of her. Aka, her enemy, Trevor Mitchell. He always picked on her, but she found a way to spin the situation around in her favor.

At 24 years old, I’ve realized I had let go of my dreams of being like Raven Madison. I subjective myself to society standards, even a boy’s standards. I like being weird and Gothic and contain compassion for the strange and unusual. No matter what another person thinks.

I am me.

Short Story Time (A flash fiction)

Glasses, Reading Glasses, Spectacles, Eye Wear, Reading
Pixabay Image

It is a truth universally acknowledged in this world that a gothic girl does not wear white boots. I prefer black. All these Wuthering Heights girls with their gliss and glam, white nail polish, and diamond jewels. I like the chips of my black nail polish, but this new school, in Dullsville, seems dull.

I have yet to see anyone like me. I’m sitting in the courtyard, applying the usual cat wing liner when I see her. Another all-black outfit girl. Lace, cowebs, and skull chains hanging from her skinny body. My lips turn up at a grin and I close my hand mirror. Forcing myself up, I follow the other gothic girl. She seems to be looking for someone. I pass a group of Cinderella look-alikes and roll my eyes. They look frighten at my appearance.

I pull my cardigan closer to me as I make my way thru the crowds of white, beige, and blush pink. Soon enough, the girl in front of me stops suddenly. An orange-hair girl appears to be talking to the gothic girl. She doesn’t seem to fit in either with the plaid skirt and cowboy boots. I try to contain the joy I have inside of me.

Mashing my lips together, I want to make a good first impression on the girls. If I intend to stay here. My burgundy lipstick was darker than my brown-skin complexion, so I could avoid eye contact with the dulls of Dullsville.

Deep down, I was hoping this girl can be my salvation.

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