Jan. 6th, 2014

kajones_writing: (Richard with sword)

Being an angel wasn’t easy. Uriel would never look down on the others for finding themselves in a position where they felt incapable of doing the job they’d been born, or created, none of them were quite sure which is was, because they’d never been given a choice. They’d never been trained either, so it had been a case of picking things up as they went, and that made things even harder. Even after millennia watching over the afterlife he still made mistakes, but then it was possible he was just making the same mistake continuously. They always said he’d had to strong a connection to the spirit guides he was supposed to just be watching over.

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Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.

kajones_writing: (Richard with sword)

Ever since Nick had left his creator he’d been looking for a place he could call home. The search had been longer than he’d ever expected it to be. It had been over four hundred years since the night he’d walked away. He didn’t believe in the theory that he would only ever feel like he was at home when he was with his creator as his creator was the reason he’d left in the first place. Four years had been more than long enough in the company of that vampire and his other ‘children’. Calling them ‘children’ disgusted him, but it was the only description he really knew for them.

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Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.

kajones_writing: (Richard with sword)

Blake looked around the room. There were twelve other people, all of whom were sat silently with their eyes locked on the door. Every one of them had been in there for longer than him and they were all patiently waiting for something to happen. It was the only thing they could do because the room was windowless, so the smell of sweating bodies was beginning to get overwhelming, and the door was guarded by two vampires. One of the two would enter the room if there was any noise at all, which was never good. The girl who had entered the room with Blake hadn’t wanted to be quiet. She had been taken away by one of the guards and hadn’t returned. Blake thought she was probably dead so, even though he wasn’t exactly happy about being some vampire’s blood slave, he kept quiet like everyone else.

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Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.

kajones_writing: (Richard with sword)

Nick had packed everything. Even if the Donor House didn’t work he wasn’t going to go back to the house he and Alice had left behind. It was time to move on to pastures new. He turned, glanced at Alice, and sighed, because he didn’t know what she’d do if the House didn’t work out. They always said they’d stay together, but maybe it was time for them to part, so she could begin living her own life again. She’d probably argue against it, the way she always did, saying that they were better off together, and he’d probably give in, even though he felt like he was the source of all her problems.

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Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.

kajones_writing: (Richard with sword)

The donor house had once been a hotel. Everyone knew that. It was the first thing the local newspaper had mentioned, as though it had been the vampire’s fault that no one else had bought it first. Dominic remembered reading the article and then listening to his parents talk about it over dinner that night. Neither of them had been against the idea of the donor house, not in the way that some people had been, but they hadn’t exactly seemed happy about it. Having a hotel full of vampires less than a mile away was different to knowing that they existed.

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Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.

kajones_writing: (Richard with sword)

Note: this story was written with a very different Donor House in mind, but has been revised.

When Lacey had arrived at the donor house she hadn’t been sure what to expect. There was a huge difference between walking past the donor house, which had once been a hotel, and actually going inside. Once she was inside she found that it wasn’t any different to any of the other hotels she had been in. She didn’t have much chance to look around because she was taken straight up to her room so she could settle in. Her first night was spent unpacking in an attempt to make herself feel more comfortable. It didn’t work. At sunrise she closed the heavy curtains.

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Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.

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August 2014

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This work by K. A. Jones is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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