THE FOLLOWING ENTRY CONTAINS LANGUAGE AND REFERENCES TO VIOLENCE AND ABUSE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED--DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU SUFFER FROM ANY TRAUMA BENEATH THE ABOVE UMBRELLA TERMS.
The older man caught her slim wrist in his hand with minimal effort. “Whoa! Take it easy, kid. You can take an eye out doing that.” Lizzie spun her head around and glared at the man. Thanks to Mona’s overbearing nature, the teenager had decided to journal by the fountain in the colonial park. She…
He felt Lizzie squeeze his hand tightly. He passed his thumb over the back of her hand. It was a small gesture, but he could tell it had eased her by how much more relaxed her grip had become.
27th day of December in the year 2139 Hi, Clint. Been too long. Okay, okay–too long is a bit of an understatement when it’s literally been like four years since my last entry. It’s been even longer since you’ve seen me, so I guess that kind of makes us even, doesn’t it? A lot has…
The children of angels were born human and, if they were the vessels for a spirit that had yet to return to Earth, would have their true selves awakened by the sitting prince. This typically occurred at a young age for the Jovians, but there had yet to be a single prince to unlock the potential in Mona’s soul. In Matteo Alagona’s eyes, his daughter was a mistake--the only human in a family of angels.
The young human continued to watch the spirit, peering at him through a mess of umber locks. She shook fervently as a gust of fall passed through the heart of the park, forcing the child to hug herself more tightly. In her shifting, he noticed a large black spot through the rips in her top, an uneven splattering against her side.
Monty Alagona was seventeen years old. He was the only son to Matteo and Veronica. His only sibling was his identical twin sister, Mona. He had two older cousins and one younger, the latter of which was his favorite person after his best friend, Connor Montgomery. He was named for his grandfather, Montague Sr., who had passed away before he was born. He lived a normal, boring, predictable life.
I backed away from the door, hyperventilating. Even though I couldn’t see my sister, I heard her giggles ring through the house, a layer of snark in her delivery. Whatever the hell is going on, I need to get out of here--we need to get out of here! I spun around to ask my other relatives for ideas--