Sebastian Herring is a failure, a boy living alone with his cat, dog, and tea. Maybe even an occasional trip to the beach. His family and friends all thought he was clinically insane growing up, terrified at his talk of every pair of “Wings.” So he let it go. He became what the world wanted him to be. He became normal to those around him. The night a cooking experiment goes to disaster, he finds the truth. A tipsy-acting truth that slaps him pretty quickly. A demonic truth, you could say. "Sounds interesting!"
Life scares me. People scare me. The things I see scare me. And it has always been that way, for as long as I can remember. Something changed for me though, eleven years ago, when I finally realized no one else could see like me. No one else can see their wings. Jus...
I scoop my cat, Maggie, off my lap and set her back down gently on my pillow. She nudges my hand and sniffs before curling up and tucking her nose under a paw. Then I force my lazy body up off the mattress and stumble out my room, where I immediately set up for a nice cup of tea. No, I&rsqu...
Flipping through the ancient cookbook is a bit terrifying. I can’t cook, so all these lists of foreign foods is worrying me. Maybe I should just order takeout.
My eye catches something. A pie. I’ll order dinner, and make an easy dessert. Perf...
“Sebastian! Don’t you dare hang up on—“
I fling the phone down angrily, slumping back on the couch. My dad exploded when I cancelled tonight’s plans. They were already on their way here, but I sure as hell couldn’t let...
Zane barks again. I sigh, rolling over in my bed, sweaty and disgruntled. The clock reads 3:27 a.m. Images keep flashing in my mind, red and terrifying, thoughts that leave a prickly feeling behind my temple. I haven’t been able to sleep, tossing and turning a...
Astileu (Two centuries ago)
Another strike sears across his scarred back, eliciting a numbed, exhausted whimper from his dry, chapped lips as more blood drips down his back. The pain he’s mostly used to, but it still hurts, aiding his need for sleep. It’s ...
I look over at Astileu, now regretting ever making fun of him and calling him Tuxie. His voice is quiet as he finishes telling me what happened.
“But,” I start, confused, “if all that happened, shouldn’t you have some scars or som...
We stop by a gas station minutes outside of Los Angeles, somehow getting Leo inside the bathroom without any people seeing him. I lock the door and hurry over to the sink, pulling out several paper towels. Leo sits down on the toilet heavily, his hands clasped in fr...