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I'm a 13 year old writer with minor ego problems and a lot of ambition. Romance drives me crazy, but if it's short, I can read it. I like to write straight out fantasy.

Message to Readers

What do you think? Be honest even if you hated it.

Oddest of Places

August 5, 2015


    I set aside my trepidation and walk into the bar. All heads turn and a few gasps rise up in the room. I take a seat at the counter. A gorgeous young woman with a frown on her face comes over to me. She is the bartender. I would imagine that she makes quite a bit of money in tips. Blonde curls frame her face and her brown eyes stare into my green ones. She stops in front of me.
    "Children aren't allowed in here," she hisses. I looked at her with a bored expression on my face.
    "I'm aware of that," I answer.
    "Then get out."
    "Why? Have I done something to offend you?"
    "You're underaged and supremely obnoxious."
    "I'm not underaged, I just happen to look 14, okay? And I don't want booze anyway. I'd just like some Dr. Pepper, lady."
    She glares at me. Peering into her mind, I can hear her thinking, I'm gonna teach this little upstart a lesson that she'll never forget.
    I burst out laughing, expecting more out of her.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “Oh nothing,” I snort.
    She frowns and turn away from me. I manage to catch a glance of her name pin. Penelope. The bartender is named Penelope. I’ll just call her Penny then.
    Penny returns with my drink. I couldn’t see her when she filled the cup. Sighing, I peer into her mind again.
    Hopefully spiking the little punk’s drink will make her go away.
    So I thought! Penny put something in my perfectly good soda! How rude of her!
    “Penny, can you come over here?” I call out sweetly, batting  my eyelids.
    “Don’t call me Penny,” Penny snarls.
    She walks right over to me. I stand up. We’re about the same height. Penny raises her eyebrows at me. I grab my drink and bring it to my mouth, pretending to take a sip. Then, before Penny or anyone else can react, I empty the glass onto Penny’s head. She shrieks and steps away from me. I feel the agitation in the room rise.
    “What the Hell is wrong with you?” she screeches, dripping poisoned Dr. Pepper onto the floor.
    “I think I should be the one asking that! What did you put in my drink?” I shout at her.
    “Nothing, you mental whacko!” she yells back.
    But in her head she’s really saying, just something to knock you out for a few hours.
    “Some kind of sleeping drug,” I state, “what was it?”
    Penny’s eyes blaze with anger.
    “Just get out,” she says.
    “Not a chance,” I reply.
    I hear the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. Turning, I see four men standing up. They stumble over to me, so drunk they can barely move. I can hear their thoughts in my head.
    Get the little girl bugging the cute bar lady.
    “I am not a little girl!” I huff.
    “Git out,” one of them slurs, arming himself with a chair.
    Two of the others have knives and the fourth is armed with a glass bottle. This fight will be fast.
The man with chair brings it down on my head. Right before it hits, I duck and roll. A knife slides out of my sleeve and into my hand. The chair crashes against the floor, reduced to a splintering mess. Swish! A knife cuts through the air where my face was moments before. I roll again and come up kneeling, my knife embedded in the foot of the man with the glass bottle. He screeches and falls over backwards.
    I am now weaponless.
    Standing, I duck as a chair is thrown at my head. I kick the chair throwing man in the chest. He flies backwards and flips over the bar counter, making Penny shriek again. I smash a chair over one of their heads. Using my telekinesis, I make my knife detach itself from the bottle man’s foot and fly back into my hand. This is too easy.
    One of the men with a knife barrels towards me. His knife meets mine inches away from his face. I take this opportunity to shove him backwards with my telekinesis. Smiling, I slide my knife back into my sleeve. The men are all down on the floor, holding different parts of their bodies and groaning in pain. I decide not to heal them. They might just come after me again.
    Suddenly, it feels like my arm is on fire. There is a knife stuck in it. Three men are one the floor. Where is the fourth?
I grit my teeth and carefully remove the knife from my arm. Turning around, I see the fourth man grinning at me. Blood drips down my arm and splatters onto the floor. It throbs and for a moment, black spots dance in front of my eyes. I blink and they go away.
    My hand grows warm and glows softly with yellow light. I press it to my wounded arm and bite my lip so I don’t scream. The metalic taste of blood fills my mouth. My tongue finds ragged flesh. I can deal with a minor lip wound later.
When I take my hand off of my arm, I find it covered in blood. The wound is healed though and nothing but a neat, white scar is left.
    I look up at the man. He is looking at my arm in wonder. I turn invisible. A collective gasp rises up from the room. I reappear in front of the man and punch him in the face. He staggers backwards, but one punch won’t be enough to bring him down. I close my eyes for a moment to mentally prepare myself for what I’ll have to do.
    With a burst of wind, my wings snap out. Another collective gasp rises up. I grab the closest chair to myself and take to the air. The man looks at me in utter shock.
    “God I hate heights!” I yell as I smash the chair over his head.
    He collapses to the floor. I land and retract my wings. All eyes are on me. No one is moving. I can hear sirens in the distance. Someone must have called the police.
    I turn around and nonchalantly stroll out of the bar. Ducking into an empty alley, I turn invisible and slip away into the shadows. I wouldn’t be coming back to Willow Creek, Missouri for at least a 100 years.


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