Morgana-Jones

She was dancing around the kitchen, singing along to Taylor Swift, when it hit me. I knew I was in far too deep already. I'd fallen in love with her and that was quite possibly the worst thing I've ever done to a person. I should have told her, but I just kissed her instead. Looking back, I can't remember the exact sensations of her tongue on mine but the warm glow I used to feel when our lips touched comes back to choke me. It's tainted now. The woman I loved hates me. I never expected her to love me back, that would have been cruel. But I didn't want her to leave me either. After it ended, after she ended it, I realised something - I was on

There's something in my blood stream and it's keeping me alive. You could say that it's a poison and this is my sickness, but there's nothing toxic about it. If it were toxic, surely I would decay? I'm still around. No, it's not a poison; it's a preservative. It keeps me, like a dead creature floating in a jar of vinegar - only there is no vinegar and I'm not floating and I'm very much alive.

My vision swims, great ribbons of red dancing over a carnelian forest. The tall trunks of trees that never quite reach the sky, and yet somehow never end, stand before me, glowing ocre in the eerie red light. There are two paths of autumnal leaves, forking away from the one at my feet. To the left there are screams. Shrieks of pain and rage and final-moment indignation. Please-don't-hurt-mes and this-isn't-happenings. Help-somebody-helps and cries that melt into horrendous gurgles. And they make me hungry. I am disgusted. I am sick to my stomach. And I am so very hungry. It is not until what feels like an age has past that I really notice th

The thing about Daniel Lucas is that he was uncontrollably, head over heels in love. Mercy Harding was an enigma, she was a mystery he never wanted to be solved; it was all part of her charm, you see. Mercy Harding was perfect. She was classy, she wore a blouse and pencil skirt to the cafe down the road. She used real words, not the otherworldly slang other girls spoke.  To even be friends with a girl like her was unbelievable. Mercy Harding was perfect. She made him laugh. Around Mercy, how could be not be smiling? She was gorgeous. Her jet black hair wasn't natural and she was never without that hint of makeup and she didn't need it, but h

Whilst Jen and Sammy are certainly off the menu, a girl’s got to feed. It was boring in the apartment, and the thirst was getting too much for me to bear, so it was only logical to go out for a bit of fun and a good meal. I dressed up and everything. My dress is black, fanning out at the waist, and my lips are painted blood red – I just adore conforming to stereotypes. The flat shoes I wear on my feet slap against the wet pavement rhythmically, it’s as if I’m accompanied by my own personal drum beat, marching me out to war. Of course, war would imply that there’s going to be a fair fight, which there undoubtedly

It's always the same, after I kill someone like that. I have to move on, literally. The lady that shows me around my new home seems disconnected; she doesn't believe that I'm actually interested in renting. It is just a single bedroom apartment, but in all fairness I look a lot younger than the 25 I claim to be. The walls in the apartment are whitewashed, wallpaper less, and it seems like I'm going to have to furnish it mostly myself - unless I like sleeping on just a mattress and sitting on the floor. The bedroom has curtains, thankfully, and a door that locks from the inside. When I ask about it the woman tries to laugh, but it appears th

Sobs shake my entire frame. My hands tremble as I take another shuddering breath. I cough up blood. His blood. I retch as I feel it on my lips again, the metallic liquid making my mouth water. My body arcs in pain and I bring my knees in close to my chest. It's under my fingernails and on my nose. It's on my shirt. Oh Lord, have I killed him? I don't even know. It was just... his pulse in my ears and I could smell it and ... oh. It hurts so much, this. Guilt. It's physical. Like my heart is being torn from my chest by invisible hands. I howl like an animal. Maybe that's all I am now. An animal. A monster. I lie there writhing on the floor un

Questions: 1. What is your real name? Farja 2. What is your surname? Cinneaddaughter 3. What are your three most popular nicknames? I’m not quite sure if you mean popular with me, or popular with the Court. If it’s the latter, “Princess” is the obvious candidate. Mailyne calls me Farj sometimes, and I don’t object to that too much, and I suppose my last name isn’t uncommon for me to go by.  I don’t think “daughter of flames” counts as a nickname. 4. What is your favourite color(s)? Flame red, although that’s fairly stupid considering who I am. 5. What is your favourite animal?!