Sorry, the tenses are jumbled again. It's the keys were in the front door, and whatever else is wrong sorry!
Ugh. More food. How on earth did these people consume so much in a day?? I don't think I ever did, before, before... Before I became what I am now. A product of nightmares. In my mind I recalled last night's events. Celeste was cleverer than I thought. But she still knew nothing. And until she did, I could never accomplish anything. Last night I had barely satisfied her with a long dramatic story about me running away and falling off a wall into her back garden. Yeah, right. But it wasn't going to be long before she would ask me more questions. Deeper ones. And until then, I was going to have to find a way to get rid of this food. Until last night my plan of sneaking it away to dump later had worked perfectly. Until Celeste discovered it of course, and though she said nothing, I could tell she was gradually putting the pieces together. Which was fine by me. I eventually gave up and brought the bowl of disgusting looking cereal over to the bin, hoping not to be noticed. Though of course I was. "Emily! Are you feeling ok? Why aren't you having any breakfast?" Celeste's flustered looking Mother bustled over to me, frowning at the full bowl. "Er, I don't really feel too well. I was vomiting this morning and decided to play it safe." I quickly lied, hoping this would solve my problems for the day, though I was having to lie quite a lot recently. "Vomiting!!" Celeste's Mother spat alarmingly, "Let me check your temperature!" My mouth dropped open in shock, why, oh why had I been so stupid? Now she would certainly believe my stupid lie about being sick. And sure enough, when Mrs. Young finally did wrestle a thermometer to my mouth, after many failed attempts to try and dissuade her, she gasped in horror. Because of course, my body temperature was at least 20° below normal level. She immediately suggested the doctor, and I groaned. Could this day possibly get any worse? After another round of failed attempts to get Mrs. Young to change her mind, both Celeste and I were shoved into her tiny mini cooper, and driven off to the local doctor. At least Mrs. Young had enough courtesy to stay outside the room but her daughter on the other hand, barged straight in, wondering sarcastically aloud if anyone hid cheerios in this room. She watched teasingly as the doctor shoved another damn thermometer into my pleading mouth. My breath came in short rasps when I realised what was coming next. The thing I had been dreading most. The thing that could ruin everything. I was **** scared of the outcome. And thats when he pulled out his stethoscope. "Just going to check that everything's all right with your heart," he said cheerfully, and pressed the metal instrument to my -no longer beating-heart. **** going to probably post more, DON'T FORM opinions of Emily yet, there's a twist on the way!
Celestes pov. I watched intrigued as the jolly looking doctor pressed the stethoscope to emily's heart. He fumbled around a bit. And then gasped. He backed slowly away from Emily, eyes bulging, mouth hanging open. Emily looked about to cry, and I was just sitting there nonchalantly wondering what other strange occurrences would I come across while Emily was with us. I just didn't know what to think. There was the food dotted hidden arround her bedroom, waiting for the next bin day, and another thing. For the past few nights, Emily had been sleeping outside. Actually scrap that, she hadn't been sleeping. Neither have I for that matter, not since the Nightmares, so I have taken up spying instead. The doctor's sudden declaration that she was perfectly all right and needn't come back again jerked me back into reality. Emily nodded feverently and backed out of the room. We never went back. **** So there I was, back in Dads study, re-starting that stupid project (which I decided I still would do on that spooky boat) and I heard this muffled talking coming from somewhere. Dad was in work, as usual at this hour, and Mum was ironing. So that left Emily. But it wasn't coming from downstairs, it was coming from the walls. No it wasn't. It was coming from Dad's old junkbag. Which it was. I opened it to find a wallow talkie in the front pouch, only, as I realised with horror, it wasn't one. It was a baby monitor. But that would have all been fine, only God knows what they would have used it for, I wouldn't have cared. If it hadn't had the label "Celeste's Room" sellotaped to it. I felt a great surge of resentment for them then, followed by tears of frustration. I began to understand the saying "life isn't fair". Because mine certainly wasn't. But that still didn't answer my question, where was the talking coming from? I decided I might as well find out, before I spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself. The snow was almost gone, so maybe tomorrow I could actually become a human being again, and escape this mess that was currently my life. Maybe I'm overreacting. Probably. I trudged upstairs to my room, and expecting to see no one there, just that I had left the radio on, I whipped open the door. And walked straight out again. I hadn't been overreacting, my life was a mess. And what I had just seen confirmed it. Emily had been sitting cross-legged on my bed, calmly as you please, talking to the mirror. Or rather, talking to Shadow Boy. ****PLEASE PLEASE feedback!! I love hearing what you think!
Correction, not scary. I'm sorry to be blunt but it isn't scary. The key element for a story like this is tension and suspense. Of which you have none. But at least you realised that horror isn't all guts and gore like those toshy books you get at the shops. However; in my life I have read many horror and suspense books. I understand a 12 year old child cannot compare to an adult but you can at least try to get the elements used. Maybe take a break from writing and find a GOOD horror story; none of that Darren Shan tosh. Other than that, pretty good given your age.
Ty for the feedback. @ paradox, um thanks? I think I might as well continue with the story, I don't currently have writers block and the rest is as good as written. I have never heard of the books you were referring to, so I can't say I wrote it based on them. Suspense was never my strong point, as you can see everything here just kind of gets blurted out. But yes, I will work on that part? Keep posting, thanks.
Ignore paradox! Your story's good!! I bet he hasn't written anything! Keep going I really want to know more!!!!
Emily's Pov. I had decided the only way to decide when to tell Celeste and how was to find out more about her. Was she a drama queen? Was she clever? Was she imaginative or did she securely confine herself to the realities of this world? I simply didn't know. And there was probably only one person in the world, no, one being in existence, that knew the true, heartfelt feelings of the surprising girl. And he lived in the mirror above her bed. I thought about the mirror itself. I had been sure of what it really was from the start. "Shadow Boy's" existence only confirmed my theory. Celeste didn't know how lucky, and how inevitably cursed she was, to posses this mirror. And if I was correct, there were only 11 more of these mirrors left in the world. The twelve portals, or shadow mirrors. ***** All had of course being going well with "Shadow Boy" when Celeste, looking angry and frustrated, burst into the room, and walked straight out again, slamming the door. I ran after her, calling her name, but my efforts were fruitless. It was clearly visible she wanted to be left alone, so I decided not to stand in her way, I knew all to well how it felt. I decided now to tell her. Right now. I trudged downstairs to her father's study, where I knew she would be, and sighed. After all my hard work, burning her project, deleting her computer work, though I'm still not sure how I did it, and sending her that meaningful dream, she had still persevered and was determined to do it on The Melissa, despite my desperate attempts to dissuade her. She turned off her laptop, bewildering me as to how, and turned to face me. "Let's go upstairs." she decided, a look of intense sorrow on her face. "We ought to have a chat," I pointed out, losing my grip on the modern day slang. "Rather." she laughed back, back to her old self. **** We went to the spare bedroom, currently my residence, and sat on the bed. "I know what you are," Celeste murmured. "I knew from the start." "Ah." I replied, not entirely believing the latter, I hadn't been that obvious. "When did you realise?" "I'm not sure," she began, pouring out her observances for the first time, "Maybe it was the fact that you didn't like any of our food, or maybe the way you were squinting at the mirror, as if looking for something that wasn't there, like a reflection. Or maybe," she pointed out lastly, surprising me greatly, "It was the fact that you didn't sleep any of the nights you were here!" Celeste proclaimed, excited at where she was getting. I sighed a little. Underestimating people was fatal, and I had just done that. "Y-yes Emily," she croaked, a single tear running down her cheek, "I know what you are." I bowed my head to show that I was far from happy about the situation, but Celeste wasn't finished. "Yes," she said defiantly, "I know that you're, that you're," she faltered a little, "That you Emily," she finished, "are undoubtably a vampire." ***Halfway through the story now! please post feedback, thank you elanme for continuously posting, even if your standards are quite low, if you think this is good
And watch out for paradox, he's quite well respected within ff, so don't offend him or a bunch of others or your in deep ****. :lol: I have learnt that over the years.