Book Ideas

Ok well I know you've seen that chapter from my random dreamed up story "Perfect Strangers." I'm not so sure that's going anywhere any time soon. So in the mean time, I don't even know if i spelled that right, here's another random chapter I've been working mindlessly on. It's something that I write a lot on actually because I like these characters. Let me know what you think.

Branded

Rolling over in my bed resulted in a direct beam of sunlight onto my eyes, piercing through the lids and forcing me to roll back over. I was awake now. No point in trying to go back to sleep. I blinked my sleepiness away, mostly, and sat up slower than molasses on a cold morning. My curtains had been cracked, only slightly, resulting in the bar of light that tore me from my dreams. My dreams were a happier place than my reality; I preferred living there over this. The dusty light filtered into the room just enough for me to do a mental check of my belongings. It had become a daily ritual in light of recent events. Next I scanned the room for anything that was out of place or looked fishy. Everything passed all my tests… until I looked at my dresser.

My heart stopped for a split second and then it raced. I felt my body tense up and my cheeks flush. It was missing. My prized possession, my baby, it was gone!

“Arden,” I growled, throwing the blankets off of me and putting my feet on the cold floor, standing up and forgetting I was wearing only my underwear and a skimpy camisole. “I am so going to kill him.”

I marched out of my room, throwing the door against the wall and rattling the ancient frame of the house, my blonde braid thumping against my back in time with my hasty footsteps. The paint on the walls was peeling and the wooden floors were blackened with age and use. The wind whipped through the broken windows, chilling my bare skin, and the lights didn’t work. My pointed glare remained fixed on the room in the distance where male voices were echoing in front of me.

“Arden! Arden where the heck are you?” I yelled my voice still scratchy from sleep.

I stepped into the room, my brow furrowed into an ugly glare, my hands went to my hips and I puffed my chest out; the voices stopped instantly. Arden and Mitch—Killswitch as I fondly call the “Killer of All Joy”—stood huddled together over the rickety excuse of a table in the center of the room staring up at me like I had transformed into a horrid looking beast. Arden, the resident kleptomaniac, looked me up and down and smiled greedily to himself.

“Arden, where is my guitar?” I demanded, “I swear if you steal it again, I’ll chain you to Killswitch!”

“I didn’t take it!” he gave me the grin I knew all too well—he was lying. “I swear!”

I could see his fingers twitch together. “Where is it?”

“I haven’t touched it since I took it yesterday.”

“Ah hah!” I jumped forward, brandishing my finger at him as if it were a sword. I knew he had taken it, and he’s not a very convincing liar either. “It disappeared last night while I slept, now where is it?”

The sound of sweet guitar music reached my ears, drawing my attention away from Arden. I recognized the dissonant harmony in the chords as my song came to life in the dingy house. I found myself mindlessly humming the tune to the words while my body unconsciously turned toward the sound. My rage was forgotten completely as the music filled my soul, making me lose myself. The melody was beautiful, far more beautiful than I had imagined it could have been when I played it.

“You remind me of Cerberus,” Killswitch noted dully, “a furious guarder of the gates, but the soft sound of music calms your rage. That’s what we’ll call you from now on. Larkin Renate is no more. She is now Cerberus.”

I glanced back over my shoulder with a pointed glare. “Shut up, Killswitch. You’re such a joy-sucking moment killer, you know?”

He shrugged, “That’s what I’ve been told.”

My hand went to my scar that cut through the left side of my lips and my finger traced it mindlessly. Alexander, I didn’t know you could play, I thought as I wandered back down the hallway and pushed open the rickety door to Alexander’s room. He was sitting on his bed, his dark hair sweeping over his eyes as he leaned forward, hands caressing my beautiful blue Les Paul gently; the sweet sound of his playing nearly made me melt. I am a sucker for music. But you’re not worth his time or attention. He could hurt you, just like Ryan did, nagged a terrible voice in the back of my mind. I stepped back, bumping into the doorframe and startling Alexander out of his trance. He looked up, noticing me trying to quietly slip from the room without being seen, and laughed.

“Larkin,” his gentle voice stopped me in my tracks, “You’re not wearing pants.”

I dropped my gaze to my legs. He was right, I wasn’t wearing pants, and my excuse for a shirt wasn’t much better. I crossed my arms over my chest and dashed from the room, feeling my face flush, and the uncomfortable knot drop into the pit of my stomach. This always happened when I was alone with a boy. Always. I slammed my door behind me and ripped the drawers open on my dresser, pulling out one of the only pieces of clothing I had to my name; a sweater which was seven times too big and dangled over my left shoulder, and a pair of jeans. Alexander stood in my doorway when I turned around to exit. His face was dirty and his crooked smile lit his golden eyes. His clothes were tattered, just like mine; just like everyone’s.

“Arden and Mitch are looking for us, they say it’s important.” He waved his hand for me to follow him. “Now that you’re dressed, if you would follow me.” He bowed himself out of the room and started down the hallway.

I padded silently behind him, pulling my braid over my shoulder and undoing it. It stayed curly for all of what seemed to be a few minutes; a new record! When Alexander and I reached the front room, Arden and Mitch were waiting, anxious looks on their faces. They turned toward a stolen police scanner on the table of the “borrowed” house we were in. They turned the volume up on the scanner so we could hear the report. It wasn’t a good one.

“All officers are to be on high alert. The Renegades are still at large. Be on the lookout for Arden Lightwood—nineteen— Mitch Cornwall—nineteen—Waya “Alexander” Reza—nineteen—and Larkin Renate—eighteen. They are wanted for crimes against the state including larceny, grand theft auto, and conspiracy.” Commanded a dark voice, “They are not to be taken lightly; they are highly intelligent and capable of murder. Don’t under estimate their abilities. They are to be taken alive; the use of force is acceptable.”

My mood darkened as I was again reminded of my status with the nation. We were “The Renegades”, traitors to our country all for one thing; we had released a man sentenced to die for a crime he hadn’t committed.

“At least we have a cool name,” Arden joked, his smile breaking over his face, lighting his ghostly blue eyes, “‘The Renegades,’ I like it.”