I love your writing style. Your very first post had a few grammatical errors, you seem to be improving with each new post. Where did you hear of Thanatos? I am curious, never heard Death being called that. I like that your time is in the modern day. Love how you put in Greek, and not Latin. (Dead language, so I see why.) Perhaps space out your cuss words so we won't see the stars haha, or just replace them with other words. Keep up the good work.
Dear readers: This is a small and short letter to say how sorry I am for not updating these pat few days. Moving from a shitty town can be very hard. Especially if your father has arthritis. And you have a lot of shit to throw out. So, I'll update soon. But I can't guarantee that I'll have long updates. Or correct spelling. Or grammar. But, I'll update a couple of times within the next two, three weeks. Sincerely, The Author ShanaAlana
Finally, here is an update! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 7 I Buy New Clothes, Take Souls, and Become Interveiwed I walk out to the throne room, little Victor yapping happily at my heels. "Dad," I say, walking up to him. "Harmony. What is it, sweetheart?" he asks, seeing the anger on my face. "Your wife burnt my clothes. I need to go out and shop for new clothes," I say flatly. "Percilla? I doubt that. She likes you quite well," he says. "Dad, I have dresses, blouses, skirts, heels, makeup, and girlyness to the highest degree. Even talking about that is making me want to hurl." He sighs, looking at me. He knows he can't win. "You are so stubborn, child. Fine." I grin slightly and he grabs something for the small table next to him. He throws it to me and I catch it. A credit card. "Be careful on what you spend it on." "Whatever. And, can you do me a favor?" I say, a plan forming. "Sure. What?" "Take Percilla out tonight. I have a surprise for her." "Of course. But you have to do something for me." I groan. Great. "What?" I whine. "Collect some souls for me while you are out. There aren't many, but just enough." "Fine. And is there a way to keep clothes from being destroyed?" "Not that I know of," he says thoughtfully. "Damn. Oh, well. Thanks, Death." I pick up little Vic and take him back to my room. I take away the dresses, blouses, skirts, heels, and extra makeup Percilla got me and I look around. There should be a furnace around here somewhere. I walk with the clothes, shoes, and makeup piled on each other. Finally, I find that furnace. I open it and shove everything in that lovely destructive device. Those colorful clothes and the colorful heels and the colorful makeup is just destroyed. Then, I go to my father and Percilla's room. I look in the closet and almost gag. Pink, purple, and other colors. No black, grey, white, just colors. All my step-mother's. I pull them off of their hangers and pile them up. Next, heels. Every color of heels. Every color except brown. I grab the makeup, pile it on top of the dresses and heels. Then I haul her stuff to that furnace. Before I stuff her prized possessions into the fire, I check her sizes. She's small. Smaller than I thought. Then I toss them in. The lovely flames take Percilla's clothes away from her. And now to let her have a taste of her own medicine. I get on the bus to the city after my father shows me the way out of my new hell. It's not a long ride, as it turns out. The Doors of Death, as my father called them as he showed me out, are located in a small town only a few miles from the city. I use the credit card to buy my clothes. Meanwhile, a man has a heart attack at the mall and I take his life as people watch to see me take it. I whisper the words to him, pressing one hand on his chest while the other is checking his pulse. When he's dead, I pull back and shake my head. Paramedics race in and push me aside. Not newsworthy so I walk along, feeling the lovely fire in my chest. I soon buy Percilla clothes. The kind I know that she will hate. Pants, not skirts. T-shirts, not blouses. Sneakers and tennis shoes, not heels. Jackets. No dresses. With that, I walk with the clothes to Hell. There's only one reason why I walk. A car accident is about to happen. Soon, I see a tan car speed near me and there is a dog in the road ahead. The driver swerves and flips. I set my bags down and walk into the field the car is in, carrying the bags with me. I set them down as I kneel to look at the driver. A woman. And two children. One my age, another younger, about seven or eight. "I'm sorry," I whisper to the bloody children as I place my hand on the mother's chest. "Η φωτιά που έχει ανάψει πρέπει τώρα να πεθάνει." The fire swirls around my wrist and into my chest. I look at the children, the youngest's eyes closed while the other's is wide open. I curse under my breath and grab my phone. I dial "9-1-1" and report the accident. I wait with the children and try to rip the door away so I can bring them out of the demolished car. Not possible. "Damn the souls," I angrily whisper. "Why can't this thing open?" That's when the ambulance finally arrives. "Back up please, miss," a paramedic says. A police off ice walk over to my and pulls me away from the scene. "Miss, uh..." he says, drifting off. "Death," I say, going by my father's name. "Death?" he asks. Then he shakes his head. "Miss Death, where are your parents?" "Not here. They are out of town." "How old are you?" he asks, taking notes now. Now it's time to interpret what he means and what his emotions are. And mine. "Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in a few months," I say. Truth. "What were you doing out here?" Procedure, I assume. "Shopping. I missed the bus and I don't have a ride. So, I walked. That's my stuff over there." Partially true. "A lot of bags. For such a young girl." Nosey. "Some clothes are for my step-mother." Truth. "And she is...?" Curious. "No comment." I am not telling him. The name I know might not be the name known to everyone else. "Father?" Nosey. "No comment." Smart. "Mother?" Nosey. "Haven't seen her in years. I haven't a clue," I lie. "Any other relatives, friends...?" Looking for the facts. "I have a friend, but they can't drive." Truth. "Name." Curiosity. "Victor. Victor Sands," I lie. His name is Victor Barnes. Not Sands. That's my name. "Mother?" Can't pick it out of his voice. "Caroline Sands," I say. Lie. "Can she pick you up?" Sincere. "No, sir. She's with my father and step-mother. In Florida." Lie. "Where do you live?" Nosey. "No comment." Interpretation: I can walk. "Young lady, are you trying to be smart?" Interpretation: Are you being a smart ass? "No. I'm just a music prodigy. I can't be both," I say, a smirk playing on my lips. Interpretation: Yes. "What happened here?" he asks. Interpretation: Tell me the truth, smart ass. "I was walking along the side of the road, and I saw a dog in the road. A car sped towards it and swerved. She, the driver, must have pulled on her steering wheel too fast and flipped. Only happened in minutes. I suspect the woman died on impact since she was without a seatbelt. The children, most likely her children, seem to have minor injuries." I sound like a cop. I should be. I wonder if they have any job openings... "How would you know that?" he asks. More nosiness. "I was next to them. Duh." I look at him as he flips his notebook shut. "Grab your stuff and get out," he says, "before..." Then a news van shows up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Not the best, but here it is.
Dear Readers, I have good news and bad news. I'll give you the bad news first, since it will lead to the good news. My bad news: This story has been cancelled for lack of inspiration. I loved this story and it has been great to write for you. I could continue this story in the future but I am not so sure. Now, for the good news: I'm starting another story. There will be more action and adventure in it than what I have now. I hope you will be tuning into it and I will love to entertain you with what I have. Hope to see your comments later. Love, The Author ShanaAlana