Welcome To Fake Paradise!

This is the personal writing blog for Joana Hill, creative writing major extraordinaire! Here you'll find the random ramblings and occasional writings of a girl obsessed with gay romance and the yaoi manga FAKE. You've been warned.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Preview of Memories, chapter 18

Chapter 18

We lost the girl in an alley even though it led to a dead end. It was such a cliché that it almost made me mad. Tristan still went into the narrow space, and I heard a splash as he stepped into a puddle I hadn’t even seen before.


The puddle suddenly rose up, and Tristan lost his balance. I managed to catch him before he hit the ground. “What in the world?” he said.

The water formed into a girl before becoming solid and taking on color. It was, of course, the girl with the water powers we had been chasing after. “What do you want?” she said, her eyes narrowed. It wasn’t entirely obvious that we had powers too, so I couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. She tried to run past us, though, and I did the only thing I could think to do.

The girl’s eyes went wide as I lifted her into the air with my telekinesis. I waved a hand to turn her so she was fully facing us and said, “We just want to talk.” She tried to turn into water again, but I managed to keep her off the ground so she turned back to normal.

“If you’re so afraid of being caught, why did you use your power so openly?” Tristan said.

When the girl hit the ground, free of me, she didn’t try to run. She just shrugged and stared down at her shoes. “No one else was doing anything. That woman could’ve died.” She glared up at me, a piece of her brown hair falling over her face and obscuring one eye.

She didn’t even know the reason I had been hesitant to help but she was still making me feel guilty about it.

“What’s your name?” I said. When she looked up, I continued with, “I’m Arthur and this is Tristan. And you are?”

She looked down, and I realized that Tristan had taken hold of my and after I caught him. Whether Tristan realized this or not was debatable. “Tallulah,” she finally said.

An ambulance, probably the one that had picked up the people from the crash, rushed by. Tristan and I looked over to it out of instinct, and when we looked back to Tallulah, she was gone. There wasn’t even a puddle around. I shook my head and turned around, but Tristan kept standing there.

“Tristan? Is something wrong?” I said.

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