Indexianna

Latvia

Writer: a form of magician that turns words into worlds.
Often can be found seeking solace in libraries (see magical institutes)

Message from Writer

Hi, I'm Index!
I love to read and write and love it when people review my work. I was formerly K. Marie Christen. My favourite authors are Kelly Barnhill, Rick Riordan, J.K. Rowling, and Terry Pratchett.

Have a great day!
-Indexianna Glosare-

My Untitled Novel: Part One: Meg is Definitely Hiding Something (Introduction to the story included!!!!)

November 27, 2019

FREE WRITING

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Hey!
So, this is the intro to the story. I'm basically just writing this down, because I just have these super developed characters and I want to share them with the world of writers. I'll be writing more soon. Hope you enjoy!


I could tell Meg was not herself as soon as I saw her. Her eyes were out of focus beneath her glasses, and she was fiddling with her necklace-a silver leaf-that had been a gift from her deceased mother.
    Meg was wearing a dark green sweatshirt, and sitting at our favorite cafe: 59th Street Coffee. She had a cup of peppermint tea in one hand, and a book in the other. Her hand-cut brown hair was just sticking out from beneath her hood. Meg cut that hair by herself. I knew this because I'd seen her do it once at school. In the bathroom. With safety scissors. Meg didn't notice me as I walked by her table into the cafe, and ordered myself my usual double chocolate and extra whipped cream hot chocolate. She didn't notice me until I sat down.
    "Hey," I said. Meg jolted back to reality, shaking her head.
    "Hey, Diana," there were bags under her eyes, and her lips lacked their usual mint chapstick.
    "You okay?" I put one of my hands on Meg's, looking her in the eyes.
    "Yeah," Meg said, "I'm just tired,"
    "Oh," I didn't comment on how that could be impossible since, judging by the empty cups on the table, Meg was on her third tea. Maybe she had had a terrible night, "Was Nell at it again?" Nell was Meg's dad, though she despised him more than anything. He also hated her. The only thing they had in common was their blood, and Meg's mother, who had died shortly after Meg was born.
    "Yeah," Meg took a sip of her tea, "But Lawrence was after me, too. They were both shouting at me," Lawrence was Meg's stepmom, whom she hated as much as her dad.
    "What happened?"
    "Well, Aunt had sent me a package in the mail," that was typical. Meg's aunt was always sending her the things Nell and Lawrence wouldn't "waste" their money on for Meg. Like food, "She'd sent me this book, some cash, and the usual letter. 'Make sure to be good, Margret. Stay safe, Margret' the usuals. I was reading when Julian just walked in and started howling at the top of his lungs," Julian was Meg's half-brother, and generally spent his life getting Meg in trouble, "Lawrence came in and Julian told her that I had snapped at him, so she started shouting at me to 'be nice to me little brother'. Then-"
    "Let me guess," I interrupted, "Nell came home?"
    "Bingo," Meg's greenish brown eyes glared at her cup, "I could tell he had been drinking because of the hunger in his eyes. I was a fresh meal for him, a reason to blow his temper. He told me that I was a wretched, selfish, no good waste of life and I should be ashamed of myself," Meg paused here, breathing in. I figured Nell had said worse things, but Meg wasn't going to repeat them, "They both shouted at me for a while, telling me to be more like Julian, to be better. I told them I hadn't done anything, and Nell kicked me out,"
    "You could have come to my house," I offered.
    "Appreciated," Meg smiled a little, "but I went to a different solace. Didn't sleep very well, though,"
    "Gee, I'm sorry," I said. Meg didn't respond, she just sipped her tea, staring at the black rooftops across the center. I looked up there too. A black figure was standing on the nearest roof, seemingly looking right at us. I closed my eyes. That couldn't be right. Opened them again. The figure was gone. Or maybe he had just been a figment of my imagination. That was probably it.
    "We need to go," Meg said, slipping her book into her backpack.
    "Why? Where?" my questions barraged her.
    "There's an exhibit I want to check out, but we have to get there soon,"
    "Okay," I picked up my cup, and followed Meg down 59th Street North.
Thanks to wannabe writer for the great peer review!

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