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[war-of-the-skies]

Rain. (Part 2)

Credits to @splutter00 thanks for the idea and for all those who wanted the part two here you go x

The hero almost slips down the stairs as they break through the front door of their apartment, paint peeling from the wooden frame. Rain pours down on them, soaking their hair and colliding with the sweat dripping down their forehead. The streets are shiny with water, reflecting the bright yellow headlights of the cars stopped in traffic, blocking the road. Maybe the rain was a coincidence, a fluke, a deeply misunderstood sign. But it doesn’t matter anymore, whether it was some stupid prank, or it really is some sort of warning, they couldn’t go back, and pretending like they didn’t have a painfully bad feeling deep in their chest isn’t an option.

They hear a deafening bang as they slip past the cars jam packed behind the traffic lights and turn their head to look toward the direction of the sound. A horrible shiver creeps up their back when they realise that it’s their apartment that it came from. They don’t dare look away, frozen by the disbelief that someone had found where they live, let alone break into their house. After a few minutes, a dark, tall figure angrily makes their way to the window of the apartment room and their eyes lock on the hero after a few seconds of scanning the streets. The figure doesn’t dare break eye contact as they back away from the glass. So the hero runs.

With already battered shins and buckling knees, they stumble to the end of the road, running a hand through their dripping hair in attempt to unstick it from their rain-soaked forehead. A searing pain travels up their leg as they push their limp into a hopping sprint; and they can feel the figures eyes burning into the back of their head. The hero is afraid. Afraid of who that figure is, what they are, and of what they can do. Running down the streets isn’t an option. It’s too predictable. They need to find a way through to the other road that the figure won’t think to consider looking.

The hero slips into a tight alleyway, taking deep breaths to hold back the rising fatigue of claustrophobia. They squeeze their arms to their sides and begin to shuffle as fast as they can toward the main road, side stepping to the end of the cramped and gloomy space. When they turn the corner, they’re met with blazing eyes, staring back at them through dark locks of hair falling slightly across their face. The person whom the eyes belong to is a tall figure, dark and muscular. Supervillain.

The hero’s breath is trapped in their throat. They can’t breathe. At first the hero thinks it’s because of the very sight of the big bad standing right before them. But no, it’s the supervillain’s very power doing this to the hero, squeezing their throat with nothing but the air around them, suffocating them. The hero’s feet are steadily being lifted from the ground, their whole body now suspended in the air by nothing but their neck. The hero tries to reach out and grab whatever is holding onto them, but when they try to grasp the hand in front of them, their fingers are met with nothing but air. Telekinesis.

Tears run down the hero’s cheeks as they swipe at the air in front of them, only for them to clasp onto nothing. Every kick of theirs only makes the weight on their windpipe worsen. Only makes the oxygen less interested in their body. Only makes their mind less interested in consciousness. The hero tries to say something but it comes out in strangled chokes. “Please…” they try to suck in a breath. The supervillain throws them.

They hit the stone wall but before they can get the chance to breathe, they slide down, landing on their injured leg when they hit the ground. The hero opens their mouth to scream but nothing comes out, their swollen throat refusing to make a sound. Instead, silent sobs come out as the hero tries to move their weight off of their leg, their attempt unsuccessful. They’ve never felt so helpless. So exhausted. So exposed.

The hero manages to take a breath. Small but relieving. Then they repeat themselves, practicing begging, “please-”

The supervillain picks them up again. The hero hadn’t even noticed they were there, but now the hero was being pushed up against the wall, their legs untangling from underneath them. The hero winces, not knowing whether to be relieved or not that the weight was taken off of their injury. The supervillain looks down at the hero’s limp leg, almost smiling. “Did you know the name of the villain who did that to you?” The supervillain sneers.

The hero sucks in another breath. “What?”

The supervillain pulls the hero away from the wall and quickly slams them back into it. “Did you know their name?” Their shout makes the hero’s ears ring.

“No.” The hero coughs out. “…but why-”

The supervillain slams them back into the wall and whispers into the hero’s ear with the voice of insanity, “did you know that they died after you left the fight? After you ran?” The hero’s eyes widen. supervillain’s breath is hot against the hero’s ear, making them tremble in fear. “I’ve got a problem, hero. Do you know what that might be?”

The hero’s breath is stuck in their throat again, and an exhausted expression is covering their face. When the hero tries to reply, their voice breaks, and their eyes swell with tears. The supervillain studies their pained eyes, before quietly whispering again, “I’m running out of players, and you’re the reason.” Before the hero can even absorb the information, the supervillain throws the hero again, and they fly straight into a house window, shattering it. The hero gasps as broken glass pierces their skin, and they reach behind them to pull a larger piece from their shoulder, dropping it in front of them. The hero’s own hot, red blood dyes their fingers and flows in lines down their back, staining their clothes crimson.

The hero practically whimpers as they stagger to a stand, hissing as they pull another piece of glass from their thigh, reopening the barely healed wound. Black spots appear in their vision, and they lean against the wall, limping to the nearest street they can see. The hero knows they can’t win. Not in this condition. So they trust their instincts and try to get away. They don’t dare look back, knowing that it will only slow them down. They shudder when they feel the rain again, washing away the blood and diluting the water falling in rivers to the ground. The drains turn a horrible colour of burgundy, and the hero can only look away and hope that they’ll make it out alive.

Just as the hero thinks that they’ve escaped the supervillain and turns round the street corner, they run into someone. A heaving chest and dark green eyes, they blow out a breath when they speak. The voice is familiar, yet horrifying to the hero. The last person the hero wanted to see. “Hero.”

Villain.

Hey guys thanks for all of the support on the part one of this post I hope you like this just as much it took me a disgusting amount of time to post this and I apologise for that but I might start making this a bit of a series now if you wanted to tag along so tell me if you want a part 3

[war-of-the-skies]

Sorry for wasting time on my phone, that wasn't very Rory Gilmore, straight A+, speech champion, top of the class, academic weapon, relentless writer, future IVY student, 10 AP classes, graduating early, perfect score, Honors student of me.

[war-of-the-skies]

I held the dagger to her throat. I was waiting for the thousands of soldiers to show up and kill me. She saved so many of them and risked her life in the process. She had sacrificed herself for them and I was waiting. Waiting for her raging teammates to appear over the mountain. And they did. I watched as they arose from the top of the peak and stood, watching. Why weren’t they moving? What are they doing? Are they afraid? They could all kill me if they tried but none them set forward. They step back, instead. Not waiting to watch. I stood still in shock and disbelief. They left their friend to die despite everything she did for them. I felt a horrible feeling of disgust within me and stared as they disappeared over the hill. Once they were gone, my grip loosened on the dagger and released the girl from the blade. I watched as she crumpled to the ground, beaten and exhausted, not having the energy or will left to stand. I didn’t know this girl but she doesn’t deserve any of this. This sickening betrayal. These faked friendships. Everyone thinks of the villains as the bad guys without even knowing their past. They assume things about them because they don’t think of them as human once they make these “bad” decisions when in reality, we’re more human than any of them. The girl looked up at me through beautiful but pained blue eyes and for once in my life, I feel sorry. And I feel pity. And I am everything my father trained me not to be. And I’m drowning.

[war-of-the-skies]

“Two weeks.” The hero said as the restaurant bustled around them. The hero waited for a reply but got ignored instead. “Two. weeks.” The villain nodded, not looking up from the menu. “Do you even hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you just fine. And I’m starting to wish I couldn’t.” They put the menu down in front of them, giving the hero a glare.

“I don’t. Understand.” The hero says sternly, leaning forward across the table.

“What is it that you don’t understand?” The villian doesn’t break eye contact. And if looks could kill…

“You’ve kept me hostage for two weeks. And you haven’t done anything to me except take me out to a restaurant. What do you want with me?”

The truth was that the villain was payed a lot of money for this. To keep the hero inactive while a group of low level criminals can run round without anyone to stop them. And they have their ways of avoiding the police. “If torture is what you want, then that can be arranged.” The villain doesn’t have to say anymore than that for the hero to sit back down politely.

The hero knew well enough, themselves, that the villains threats weren’t empty. And the only thing stopping the hero from screaming for help is their stubborn mind telling them that they don’t need any, and that they can handle themselves on their own. That, and the fact that the hero would feel like a burden.

After the hero had gone quiet, the villain looked down at the hero’s food. Unsurprisingly, they hadn’t touched it. “I bought that. You’re going to eat it.”

The hero looked up to the villain, locking eyes with them, and then back down at the food, before picking up their fork and scraping a few peas into their mouth. The hero tried to hide how hungry they were. They didn’t want to owe anything to the villain, so they will not satisfy them by seeing them like this. They put down the fork, and sit up straight. “There.”

“You and I both know how hungry you are. You’ve refused to eat for days.”

“Maybe, if you let me go, I could feed myself.” The hero replies, optimistically, only for the villain to look back down at the hero’s plate, before something else catches their attention. The hero’s water. It looked weird in a way. Cloudy.

“Eat more.” The villain mumbles, only for the hero to cross their arms across their chest. “So you’re going to just starve yourself? That’s a bit stupid.”

“Fine.” The hero picks up the glass of water, trying to make a point. The hero tips it up.

“Don’t drink that.” The villain snaps.

“Shut up.” The hero’s voice echoes in the glass.

“I said, don’t.” The villian snatches it from them, aggressively. But the hero tries to snatch it back.

“So you’ll let me eat but won’t let me drink?” The hero goes to grab it again but the villain pulls it away. “Do you think this is funny or something?” They stand up, and walk round the table but the villain downs the drink before the hero can grab it. “Ughhhhhh. You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

“We should go.” The villain grabs their jacket and throws it over their shoulders. “It’s getting late.”

“Why, so you can trap me in my room again? It’s not even late.”

But the villain can’t hear them. The world instantly starts spinning around them and their vision blurs, their ears are blocked by a head splitting ringing. They try to focus on one spot on the table while the hero continues to haul rude insults at them. The villain tries to get up to go to the bathroom but the hero stops and turns to them.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The hero accuses them, one hand on their hip. The villain raises a hand at them.

“bathroom.” The villain slurs before collapsing to their knees. Someone had put something in that drink and it was meant for the hero. Someone was after them. But who?

[war-of-the-skies]

Rain. (Part 1)

The hero came back from a fight drenched from head to toe, shutting the door behind them. They staggered toward their kitchen, filling a glass of water to drink before quickly spitting it out into the sink at the taste of blood. They poured the water away and set the glass on the counter. They had no major injuries apart from scrapes and bruises. And of course, the blood in their mouth as a result of multiple blows to the face. They sat down on the cold, tile floor, and tilted their head back to rest on the cabinets behind them.

Despite winning their fight, the hero felt defeated. There’s no one to congratulate them for risking their life once again. Although that’s what they’ve chosen. This is what they’ve wanted to be since as long as they could remember. A hero. And here they are, where they’ve been for three years. It would help if they earned some money from this. But that’s where secret identities have their consequences. They still work day shifts at the local grocery store to afford rent, and they can’t remember the last time they slept. They hold their hand up in front of them, only to put it back down when it begins to shake. They don’t have time for sleep. Not at the moment.

Pouring rain hammers at the windows and the hero takes a moment just to listen to it, finding comfort in the sound. They close their eyes, in a hope to escape their thoughts, only to feel their heart suddenly stop. The rain. They scramble to their feet and look at the window, listening. Dum. Dum dum dum. Dum. And repeat. Dum. Dum dum dum. Dum. It’s the same pattern. Dum. Dum dum dum. Dum. It’s morse code. Dum. Dum dum dum. Dum. They run their hand down their face, trying to listen, before giving up and grabbing a notebook and a pen, writing down the pattern. .-. ..- -. They look at the paper and take a step back, adrenaline making them tremble.

Run. The rain is telling them to run.

So they do.

Tell me if you guys want a part 2 x

Part 2 is up!

[war-of-the-skies]

Seeing if you know your book characters back to front:

-favourite colour

-favourite food

-favourite animal

-what makes them smile

-what makes them mad

-favourite drink

-dogs or cats

-favourite season

-favourite month of the year

-favourite time of day

-favourite meal of the day

-favourite spot in your book to hang out

-siblings?

-family?

-golden retriever or black cat character

-most common emotions they use

-trauma?

-how were they raised?

-bad habits?

-have they ever broken any bones?

-haircut/hair length

-goal in life

-what’s their personality like

-mood swings?

-eye colour

-favourite day of the week

[war-of-the-skies]

Things you can do for your book:

-make a map

-make a playlist

-describe your character to a friend and see if they can draw them and if they don’t look the same as in your mind, you need to describe them better.

-weather forecast

-weekly planner for one of your characters.

-make a group chat for your characters and make up a funny conversation between them

[war-of-the-skies]

Things to think about when writing about a fantasy world:

Currency

Laws

Hours in a day

How long is everyone’s lifespan?

What makes you character stand out from the rest?

Politics

Climate

Shape of the map

[war-of-the-skies]

How to write descriptions

-use the five senses to describe what they can: touch, taste, smell, see, hear. People call it the sixth sense, but the feeling when someone is watching you or is behind you can be used very well in writing too.

-use the five Ws. Who, What, where, when, why. Think about these and how they can help you.

-instead of saying, ‘they threw me off.’ Say, ‘they grabbed a hold of my shirt as the faint smell of metal seizes my nose. They throw me but I grab the edge of the cliff, my fingers slowly sliding off of it. The looming figure steps to the edge where my raw knuckles fight for their lives to hang on, but he has no mercy. Reaching down to grab my wrist and lift me up, pain is the only thing that I see. Not the cruel man in front of me, staring into my eyes. The eyes that were once his brother’s. He lets go, and gravity claims me.” (This is more suitable because it makes the reader want to keep reading and it’s more interesting than the one sentence.)

-Before you do anything, think about if what you’re about to write has a reason. Is it going to be a clue to a twist later in the book? Or is it going to be the twist? Everything is up to you when you write.

-Use synonyms. PLEASE! They’re much better than using ‘said’ after and bed every piece of speech. Instead, use ‘she yelled, screamed, whispered, trembled, gasped, etc. you can always look up synonyms for things. It’s not cheating.

-if you want to describe a setting, use everything that you would find in that setting to make it sound real. i.e. ‘night calls me as I look up to the stars. Cool summer night breeze brushes past me, and look around at the scenery before me. “It’s beautiful.” I barely murmur under my breath. Before me lies a willow tree, vines hanging from its branches, leaves rustling in the wind. There’s a stream close by, giving me the pleasure of the sound of running water. And I look up to one of the highest branches, to see a swing hung there.’

-use metaphors. Instead of, ‘it was loud’ say, ‘it was as loud as a motor.’ Instead of, ‘it was windy.’ Say, ‘the wind was as strong as a the sea that day.’ Compare it to something.

Use alliteration. It makes the words flow better. ‘The Silky black Sky Surrounded me like a cold Blanket of Blackness.’

Hope this helped. Tell me if you want more x

[war-of-the-skies]

Things I love about writing:

-The fact that you’re making your own world.

-you decide everything that’s going to happen like a god.

-you can make series or just a standalone.

-with a good enough storyline, it’s just addicting in general.

-the thought of going to a bookshop and someone recognising you from a book you’ve written.

-you can escape everything and just dive into a world that you made.

-All you need is a good idea, patience, and commitment to create a whole book.

-you can make a whole person by writing a few words.

-If you’re writing with a keyboard, you get really fast at typing.

-once you’ve written one book, you’ll want to write more.

-you can make the characters feel however you want and the amount of description you can put into one moment is insane. (I’ll post something to help with writing descriptions)

-no matter what you write, there’ll always be someone who loves your book.

-imagine someone coming up to you in a bookstore and saying, you inspired me to write a book.