Poet and Novelist, I do roleplays, but only warrior ones, and a few good fantasy ones, but my real passions are poetry and novel!
This is the beginning of a novel I'm writing, which doesn't have a name. I have around six books on the go, some of them short stories, some of them longer, but this is the one that makes the most sense on its own, with the bit that I've written so far.
Graveyards are funny places. Sad, so sad you feel like you’re being torn apart. And yet, peaceful too. I suppose it’s a place of rest, where the old and ill lay their heads down to sleep forever. And don’t wake up.
Usually.
I’m Natalie.
I’m a Dracol Nalie. I see the dead. I fight the dead. I help the dead.
But that isn’t why I’m at this place, this graveyard. This home to sleeping souls. I’m here because Cathyrine died. I’m here because she was my friend. I’m here because I can see her right in front of me. She beckons with a long finger, looking as beautiful as she was in life. It was always me and her, the gorgeous duo, up against the world. But now she’s dead, gone. Only she’s not. Because she’s standing in front of me. But she should be dead, and she is, in a way. Her heart stopped beating, she’s in a coffin. But she’s still here, standing in front of me, a duplicate Cathyrine, a ghost. But don’t get me wrong, she’s solid.
Funny how things work out, isn’t it? She was always the most permanent of us in personality, the loud, demanding one, though her looks wouldn’t have suggested so. She’d had a sweet, pretty face, large eyes, and thick wavy blond hair, with subtle, flowing curves. Her eyes were blue, twinkling merrily; she’d looked like an angel. You couldn’t let that fool you; she was witty, with a tongue as sharp as a knife. She’d cut any boy that tried to get near her, save Gregory. It was always Gregory, for her… and for me. I’m the one that looks like I should have her personality; I have the bold features, distinguished cheekbones, high, arching eyebrows. I have the dark brown, almost black, hair that’s silky and soft. It hangs like a curtain around my shoulders, but when Cathyrine was alive, it was always piled up in some crazy hairstyle. On the night she died, it had been tied in a bow, although it kept falling out. It had always annoyed Cathyrine, the fact that it was so fine, it made it nearly impossible to style. But she’d managed, she hadn’t given in. She was like my opposite, I was quiet, and easily distracted, she was loud and focused. She was stubborn, I wasn’t . Maybe that was why we were best friends. We’d brought out the best in each other, when I was with her I had confidence, and I like to think I made her a more gentle person. The only other times that I’m so sure of myself is when I’m facing ghosts.
We’d told each other everything, I’d told her about my powers, and my being a Dracol Nalie. She’d been so sympathetic, and had had a rare streak when she thought of someone outside her little bubble, which had included me, herself, and Gregory. Always Gregory. I remember her saying, ‘Oh poor you. Seeing dead people. And poor dead people, it must be so hard, coming back to the world they’d lost. They must be so sad.’ The strange thing was; she hadn’t been sarcastic.
But she doesn’t look sad at all now, and I shake myself out of my memories. Cathyrine is gone, my Cathyrine is gone. All that remains is this empty shell of a beautiful girl, whose eyes now smoulder with pure hatred.
‘Who?’ I ask softly, and she knows what I mean, if she has any memory of her former life. She can’t have much recall, as the Cathyrine I knew had never had that much anger inside of her, she wouldn’t have been able too. It would have ripped her apart. The dead thing in front of me smiles, hair threaded with the white daisies that she’d been buried in. I know exactly what has happened to her, she would have woken up in the place of her death, solid but invisible, no, hang on. That isn’t right; she’s solid when she chooses to be. She can be as ghost-like as the stories say, if she wills it. She will have woken up, with a feeling. Spirits have two ruling feelings: anger and sadness. I’ve only dealt with two angry ghosts, there’s only one way to deal with them. You have to fight them, exorcise them. I am one of the few Nalie, and one of the even fewer Dracol Nalie. Dracol Nalie can control the elements; manipulate fire, earth, water and air. We are called on to kill angry spirits... again. Spirits must be destroyed, and not a trace left, or they can anchor themselves to our world and return. Once destroyed completely, they just vanish, no afterlife for them. But angry spirits can control the fifth element, spirit. They can control life force, control minds… kill. Dracol Nalie and Nalie are protected from their power, but they have to touch even a normal person to end their life, and it takes extreme power, afterwards they just melt away, used up. Usually an angry spirit saves their killing blow for the ultimate victim, the one they have come back to kill- angry spirits come back for one reason, someone betrays them. They return, unstoppable, until they’ve killed the wrong-doer. Nothing gets in their way, and that’s when a Dracol Nalie has to intervene. The majority of the spirits in our world are sad. They wander with no purpose lost. They are usually victims of the more horrific crimes, like raping, or abuse. Or just heartbreak. All they need is a helping hand into the afterlife, someone to guide them, and heal their spirit. That’s what an average Nalie does.
But Cathyrine is clearly an angry soul, the angriest I’ve seen in my life, her eyes alone burn holes in my skin. ‘Who?’ she echoes, her voice, once clear as a bell, now a raspy whisper. She notices my shock and smiles, a smile devoid of humour. I pity the person who Cathyrine has returned to destroy, and I doubt I, one of the most powerful Dracol Nalie in the world- admittedly one of the only Dracol Nalie in the world (there are 50 of us altogether, and over 1000 Nalie), but still, immensely powerful.
‘I think you know,’ she whispers, stepping closer, hand still out.
‘If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking,’ I reply irritably, frowning. Cathyrine grins delightedly, ‘Oh you don’t know,’ she takes a step closer, leaning closer. ‘You,’ she breathes into my face, her breath ice cold. I turn, about to run, when I realise she has no power over me.
‘You can’t hurt me,’ I say, my voice sure.
‘Oh but I can,’ Cathyrine smiles, and she lifts her hand. A tree uproots itself and flies towards me. I raise a hand automatically, and the air between me and the projectile shimmers, and the tree lowers to the ground. ‘How?’ I murmur softly, terrified. Cathyrine just used air and earth power, something impossible. She couldn’t do it even when she was alive, she was an average human, I know that for certain.
‘I’m a whole new type of spirit,’ Cathyrine says, ‘You never met anything like me.’ Then she is gone. I have a sudden crazy thought, ‘WHAT’S THIS ABOUT?’ I shout to the wind, seemingly alone in the graveyard. Cathyrine’s voice floats on the breeze to meet my ears, ‘Him. You promised.’ Her voice is hurt. I know who she is talking about and she knows I do: Gregory. It has always been about Gregory. ‘I thought the oath to let him be yours expired when you died.’ I say, looking to any outsider like I’m talking to myself. I suppose that’s expected; people talking to themselves, in a graveyard.
‘Oh you wish,’ comes the reply, dripping with venom.
‘Yes I do. It’ll kill him, you know: loosing us both.’ I say carefully.
‘Why?’ Cathyrine asks, sounding puzzled for a moment.
‘Because he loves me,’ I say, certain about this.
‘No he doesn’t,’ Cathyrine laughs, cold and high. ‘He was never right for you.’
‘We love each other,’ I say desperately, wanting her to stop, wanting the torment to stop. I love him with all my heart, he rules my existence. I’d made that promise when I hadn’t know and I’d painstakingly kept it, all these years. The only good thing about Cathyrine’s death was the fact that he was finally mine. Clearly not.
‘No. You love him.’ Cathyrine sighs, and her voice drifts away, with a final promise of 'I’m coming.’
I don't really post my stories on chicken smoothie, I simply write them on my computer in word documents.