Emica Kana is 18 years old. She has always loved writing stories., They were her escape from reality. She always wished that a man would come and save her like they always do in the stories.
Well, she got her wish.
Emica entered a small writing school that was near a river. Her friend had joined her. But, the teacher had an odd vibe around him. Emica became a little scared of him. She especially became scared when the teacher started to pay more attention to her. One day, when she runs from him, she falls into a world of adventure, risk, and abnormalities. 
But, her teacher is what scares her more than this new world. What secrets and schemes did he use to get her here?

Daeva after bumping with Juno, she thought that her behavior wasn't so nice. But when the school bell rings, she snapped out of it and went to her designated room for her subject. Daeva is a fourth year college student in Literature and Creative Writing. She thought of becoming a writer to write literary pieces based on her experiences. Also, she thought that becoming a writer would allow her to have a small chance of interacting with people.

When she was about to enter her room, her Professor bumped into her. Mrs. Sanchez smiled at her. Daeva greeted her good morning and Mrs. Sanchez greeted her in return.

They both entered the room and Daeva sat at the second row. Mrs. Sanchez greeted her class and began discussing a lesson about her subject. She kept blabbing in front while Daeva glanced at the window. She caught a glimpse of Juno who's about to leave the school gates. As she follows Juno with her eyes, she began to feel a sharp pain at her left forearm. She didn't bother looking at it, she knows that it's currently bleeding so she just pulled her black sleeves lower. She returned her attention to her discussing professor and listens to her.

A couple of subjects passed then Daeva's lunch break arrived. She quickly ate at the cafeteria before going to the library. The school's library was enormous. It's also where the book club is rooming. Daeva is a member of the Book club and happens to be a good friend of Kevin, the Book club's president. When Daeva came in, she found Kevin fixing books that weren't returned to the proper shelve. She just picked up some books that were left at the tables and did the same. There weren't too much people in the library for now so she started casually chatting with Kevin.

"Hey Kev, you seem frustrated... What's wrong??" asked Daeva.

"Student School Council Vice President...She destroyed my morning." said Kevin casually.

"What did she do to you?" Daeva felt curious.

"Oh nothing...She just shuted me out... refusing to do some student council duties...or simply take the proposal and leave it to miss President's table... That's all..." Kevin replied.

Daeva didn't asked further what happened...But then, she felt like the person who she bumped with earlier at the hall way was the Vice President.

"The Vice President, was she the campus belle I keep hearing about." Daeva asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, that's her...Why, what's up?" asked Kevin as he finished arranging the books.

"I think she's the pretty blonde girl I bumped with this early morning. She wasn't really polite." Daeva said as she scratches the area where she felt pain while staring at Juno.

Kevin saw Daeva scratched her forearm right bellow her palm. He looked at Daeva with malicious intent. His lips curved up at one side. He then grab Daeva's hand and brought her to the school's clinic. Daeva didn't resisted and just followed Kevin.

The nurse was currently out of the clinic so Daeva's forearm can be treated. She pulled her sleeve up and let Kevin treat her wound. Kevin cleaned the blood off and covered it with bandage. When he was done, Daeva thanked Kevin and they came back to the library. 

There, while Daeva was waiting for her next class like Kevin, they decided to read a book. Daeva picked a random fantasy book while Kevin opened his laptop and read about demons.

"Let's go home together later and just order pizza for dinner, what do you say?" Kevin offered to Daeva.

Daeva just nodded, it's not very often that they go home together. Daeva and Kevin are roommates and oftentimes, Daeva gets home first before Kevin because of his club president duties.

Almost an hour have passed and Kevin closed his laptop. It's time for his next class, Daeva still have over half an hour before her next subject so Kevin just left her. When Kevin left the library, the atmosphere in the library became gloomy. Anyone who's in there felt uncomfortable, some left but some ignored it. Daeva is feeling a bit irritated but what can she do? She can't get rid of them...never...

Daeva kept reading until its just 15min left before her next class. She stood up from her sit and returned the book into one of the shelves. She felt a hand caressed her cheek and hear a chuckle. Daeva ignored it and left the library.

When she's out of the library, she can feel that someone ran "its" fingers on her hair. Her mouth was twitching, slowly forming a malicious grin. She covered her mouth with her hands, then, she took out a face mask from her pants's pocket and covered her grin. She went to her next class as if nothing had happened.

She still have 2 subjects left for her to survive. Her 3rd subject for the day passed as if it was a filler chapter of her day. Nothing very interesting occurred nor the class. But on her final subject of the day: Creative Writing, the class was given an activity and that is to write a poem. The poem have no specific theme but should be rhyming.

Writing poems weren't a problem for Daeva at all. She doesn't limit herself when it comes to writing and its subject. She writes what's in her mind and what she feels. They we're given an hour and when they were done, they are then dismissed. Daeva finished after 30min, she's always the first one to finish. As she passed her work and leaves the room, her professor Mr.Wilson gave her work a read.

Trigger

Young ignorant little girl,
Your heart is a black pearl.
His tongue hungers for you...
He will dye your silk a red hue.
Do not dare taunt him further
Beware, his claws are no feather.
You can't produce what he desires,
He shall come and take his prize.
Do as the old men say,
There is a price if you disobey;
Outgrow your childish ways
Or he who you shall face!

This is a collection of different stories but all told by one person, Daeva. A mysterious young woman who's always very reserved and isolated from everyone. You may approach her like anyone else but beware...

This is a horror/suspense story...please read with caution. You might not be able to sleep at night with lights off and open doors and windows.

A fiber of connection from miles away...



Our places on this earth are divided by oceans setting us apart from one continent to another. Several countries speaking several languages to understand each other. People with several cultures and beliefs. Different personalities and opinions.

In this chaotic world, we live in called real life we search for a place to escape from that reality. To be accepted as who or what we are. We have found that in the music we sing. In the books, we read. In the movies we watch. In the places, we travel and visit. Everywhere in which we get inspiration to face reality head-on.

We write stories or poems to inspire others, reading the words we weave from our own world. For some of us, it is simply an escape from reality into a world in which we can use our imaginations to dream make-believe or to live our secret fantasies or just plain be creative.

Getting on the web gives us more ways to share and get connected to other people with the same kind of thinking from across the ocean. Some of the people we meet along the way give us reasons to smile again. It's where we become friends, get to know them well, and get so close that we even trust them enough to share our own greatest fears.

I was a living a kind of living death when I found solace here on Stories Space. A place to write, camouflaging my hatred and sadness from myself when I was reading all the poetry and fictional fantasies created by the writers. I found another escape from reality and indulged in reading.

My feelings from my own troubles in life had made me feel so empty that only through laughter and reading could I be free and somewhat whole again.

I made my own heaven in purgatory.

A friend told me to write down all of my pains and troubles in poems or stories. Another friend of mine told me to be fierce in my poetry writing. I found friends who helped me give my own life a reason to continue living again through writing.

Writing makes me calm every time my mind gets into a panic mode. The pains and the fears of the unknown are my muses for writing.

When I met someone who understood me and made me feel needed and loved my poetry changed its tune. It made me think of happy thoughts. I got inspired by the things I saw and the happy memories of my childhood that I could write about.

Painful memories and realities were always there and so I wrote about them from time to time.

When that someone left me I continued writing. The same inner muse I had gained I used to keep on writing.

Then, out of nowhere, I got to know you. I became happy again. This time I got even more inspired and more creative, experimenting with my writings.

I set aside my shyness and reservations to write creatively. I still can't overcome some of my shyness and reservation but I am blooming, inspired by you.

You became my muse.

The man in the moon. The stars in my darkest hours. When at night I can't sleep thinking of you calms me to sleep.

The sunshine after the heavy storm. Where all the dead trees come to life again. That keeps me warm when everything gets chilly.

My own little heaven in my real life purgatory.

Writing...

Rune's Prose & Poetries

LUCID DREAMS

my wandering crazy mind is just doodling in the sands...

it's just me ...this is a collection of my amateurish writings of poetry, short stories, and prose...

These are all short stories compilation a different story per chapter.

WARNING: Adult contents, please be advised that you're reading EROTICA


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
RuneMcGrey
Copyright©2014-present

All writings remains MEG Cabingan a.k.a. RuNe also known as runemcgrey's property.
Don't use it for any other purposes without her permission.

Gun-Ho was having a beer with Jae-Sik at the security office in his company. It was all dark outside.
"You used to be very active in the literature club when we were in high school, and if I remember correctly, you also participated in making our school newspapers."
"Yeah, I did. After graduating from high school, I went to college in Seoul and majored in creative writing. It was not one of the top universities, but I had a good life at that time because I could do what I enjoy doing."
"That's right. I think I heard that you studied creative writing."
"I even won the annual spring literature contest after graduating from college, which was held by a newspaper company in a province. At that time I felt like I could rule the world. I wanted to get a job in a newspaper company, but I found a job at a publishing company instead."
"So you got a job where you can use what you learned in college and that was also what you liked to do with your life."
"As you know, a publisher is different from a factory like here. It was a small publisher with only three or four employees and it wasn't doing very well."
"Hmm."
"However, that publisher was publishing a few bestseller books at that time, so they could pay me even though it was not much. I met my ex-wife there too."
Jae-Sik's voice started shaking when he talked about his wife.
"Have some more beer."

"Sure."
Jae-Sik sipped his can of beer before he continued to talk.
"Did your wife work at the same publisher?"
"My wife was a poet. In order to make our livings, we both worked at the publisher as a freelancer doing proofreading and editing."
"Hmm."
"So we hit it off when we met. I was a chief editor at the publisher at that time. Unfortunately, the company could no longer find a good book that would generate enough revenue. Any subsequent books we published were sold less than 500 books at a maximum."
"Does it cost a substantial amount of money to publish a book?"
"Our company usually published foreign books. So it cost more than 10 million won to do the translation, editing, design and printing work."
"Wow, it does cost a lot."
"That company eventually had to close its business. I couldn't find a job in the field afterward because the publishing industry wasn't doing well at that time. So I made a living by doing editing. However, I don't know what happened to me; I guess I had to stay in the field doing editing even though I wasn't making much. But, instead, I opened a deep-fried chicken restaurant with a loan."
"Hmm."
"I put about 100 million won in that restaurant business including its premium. However, the restaurant strangely suffered from the beginning. Moreover, my wife became testy because of the customers who were rude and loud, and sometimes they harassed my wife, those low-lives."

"Hmm."
"She would have been able to take some stress that arose from the business if we were making good money. However, the business was suffering, and we were pressured by the creditors to repay the loan, on top of those abusive customers. My wife couldn't take it anymore. You know people who write like a poem, they are more sensitive than average people."
"Did your wife invest her money in the restaurant too?"
"She did. She took out the money from her credit cards here and there and invested 20 million won in the business. I also used my credit cards in addition to loan from a bank and put about 40 million won in the business."
"So, you started the business with your own cash of 30 million won."
"I had a severance pay of 5 million won that I received from the publishing company's president. He literally cried when he gave it to me. And I borrowed 10 million won from my mother. I used those 15 million won in addition to my own cash—another 15 million won."
"The debt was too high compared to your own investment fund."
"The debt grew like a snowball and we were behind our rent. It was that time when my wife eventually suffered a miscarriage of a baby; she asked me to divorce her."
"Whew. I had similar life experiences. You had a harsh time."
"I haven't heard from my wife for a while. She must still be suffering financially because of her credit card debt. She is probably having a hard life doing editing work."
"Hmm."
"When I eventually closed the deep-fried chicken restaurant, I was left with a debt of over 50 million won. I suffered for quite a while by the creditors before I became a person with a bad credit score."
"Why didn't you apply for rehabilitation?"
"I did. With rehabilitation program, I was supposed to pay off debts according to a payment plan provided by the court. I was paying a certain amount of money to the court every month for several months until the accident happened."
"An accident?"
"I was doing the editing work, but when I couldn't get enough work to make a living, I got a job in a delivery company. I think I worked there for about half a year until the accident. I was delivering a package and I had to make a quick delivery, so I made a U-turn where I was not supposed to do and then I hit a car that was coming from the opposite direction. I crossed the yellow line to make a U-turn. I guess something happened to me that day to cloud my judgment."
"Hmm."
"I am not good at physical work since I have always done office work like writing and editing. Moreover, I had a bad credit score. So it was really hard to find a job. I saw Jong-Suk working with machines and doing welding. He looks great. I know I can't do that kind of work."
"So, you have 50 million won debt in total?"
"I have been paying for the debt until now. I think I have 30 million won left by now. Oh, I talked with the general affairs manager the other day about it. He said I would get paid 1.6 million won per month, and I can take the amount of basic living expenses out of it before it is seized. I think I can save some money then."
"Saving money?"
"Yeah. My rent is paid by the company, and I can have my meals at the company. So, I think I can pay off the debt after ten years working here."

"Right. The biggest expense that the people who don't make enough money is the cost of the rent. The people who don't have money have to pay for rent, and the people who have money receive that rent from them. That's the current economic system we are living in. Consequently, the gap between the rich and poor is getting bigger. Ten years are too long for you."
"Well, it is still hope. It's a good thing that the debt is shrinking instead of growing. There is one thing that bothers me a lot though. I collected some funds from our friends from high school to make an alumni directory book. I couldn't make it happen even though I really was going to make it."
"People don't make those types of directory book nowadays, do they? Many people don't want to expose their real address."
"I know. So I was going to enter their e-mail address instead of physical addresses with phone numbers. I started collecting the necessary information and writing some stuff already like the history and path that our school took so far and news from our friends, etc. I still have the writings with me. It will cost 2-3 million won to complete it but I used that money to pay my rent because I was about to be evicted. I became an animal to our friends."
Jae-Sik eventually burst into tears.

This is the story of a poor young man whose poverty even shreds apart their family willing to climb his way through society and into the top. A very realistic novel that moves away from fantasy and sci-fi and focuses solely on the issues of society and life.

As the jagged rock, I use for inscribing my thoughts fly across the walls of my cell, I find myself reflecting on my time in this place. Here are my thought's so far;
 I have learned much while being here. For example, how to enjoy the quiet moments in between the morbid, sadistic laughter of the prison guards and the terror-filled screams of those unfortunate enough to be chosen for the whip. In this playhouse, these silent moments are the only times I am free to write these days.
 So, here I am, writing down my thoughts, what do I wanna talk about? I bet you want to hear a little bit about the playhouse, or prison I suppose it's called in "normal" society. Normal. Such a revolting concept. You may ask, "How does one stay sane through all the play sessions and total isolation?" Well, writing down on these prison wall the most creative ways that I would murder the prison guards was a great way to deal with it. And, if you're wondering how I got here, it's the silliest reason imaginable. I slept with a woman I wasn't supposed to. Who knew the king's wife was off-limit? I was young, flirtatious and handsome. And as the one who cleaned the hallways outside her door, I had easy access. Tell me, who wouldn't go for that. 
Except for the whipping sessions, this place isn't bad. Food has become bearable, I no longer throw up after every meal. Though, the play sessions have become nigh impossible to endure as they quite recently introduced us to the whip's far more experienced and bloodthirsty older brother. The thorn whip. Luckily, I am allergic to that whip's material so they don't use it on me. But, you know, for the other guys, yeah, they have it rough. 
I make sure to always tell them to find the silver lining in life. Sure, they get the thorn whip, but I get submerged in scalding hot water, with that being the least creative way they go about playing with me. Since everyone in this place hates me like they hate the guards, it always helps me avoid a severe beating when I show them scars from the latest play session with the guards. That always cheers them up and saves me from the most unlucky situations.
 I snap out of my thoughts when I hear the voice of my favourite prison guard. "Lunatic, stop your daydreaming and come over here! It's your turn for the chair!" His voice is raspy and rough, like an old smoker. "Stop it with the pet names, love. You got me already," I say as I drop the rock and make my way over to him. I tried my best to smile, but for some strange reason, the other guard flinches and takes a step backwards. "Why so pale? Are you sleeping okay, dear boy?" I ask, trying my hardest to sound genuine. I always found that part difficult. Genuinity. What does that mean? I really wanna pick up this rock and bash their heads in and cause a bloody mess. Is that genuine enough for you?
 "Shut up! Give me your hands!" I do as he commands. The way he wields that power. It's intoxicating. What I wouldn't give to get my hands on his throat and watch as all that life and authority slips away as my hand tightens around his neck. "What happened to the guy yesterday?" I tilt my head to the side with my smile still plastered on my wrinkly face. "What did I expect from the Lunatic, you already forgot what you did. He was too slow to strap you into the chair so you bit into his neck. I'm surprised you can't taste the blood. We never bothered cleaning you up."
 It finally dawns on me, the taste that's in my mouth. "So that's what that was. I knew that the taste was familiar." The pale guard seems to grow even paler as I direct my gaze at him. That was another thing I never wrapped my head around. Should you stare into their eyes or look at the nose, or the forehead. It's all very confusing. Should you blink? I tend to not blink in these moments, you know, so I can reassure them that I am paying full attention to their needs. Trying to be genuine, as they call it.

Outside of the Fanfictions that I write, I love writing short stories. That is what this is for. Every now and then (weekends probably) I am gonna release a short story. Some might be continuations of others, but most will be just small character arcs and some random stories I want to write. Hope ya'll enjoy what's to come. The release will be totally sporadic, when I come up with something to write, I'll release it.

The language learning course which tested the ability of the students' minds to read, and comprehend a certain text, acknowledged the variety of literary pieces across the world, expressed one's sentiments, and viewpoints through creative writing, and gave up a speech to the public with a required self-confidence and charisma had conquered the class of Yeats.

"English Time!" a classmate exclaimed.

"Ugh. Why on earth..." Noah said, lying her head onto the armrest.

The teacher had arrived with her male student who assisted her to carry on her stationery materials and left afterwards. 

She expressed her warmest greeting to the class, "Good morning, everyone."

"Gooood Morningggg, Ma'am Rhea," the entire students responded in dullness, deliberately prolonging the words.

"Again, good morning, Yeats."

"Good Morning, Ma'am Rhea! We are happy to see you today!"

The teacher nodded, and commanded them, "Okay, you may now take your seats."

"So Yeats, in this period, we would be having an activity, and I'm sure you would definitely love to hate this one."

The students plastered a counterfeit grin on their faces as they listened to their teacher's introduction. It looked as if their incoming task would be an "easy yet a lazy job" for them.

"You will be composing an original poetry! Isn't beautiful? A form of art of regurgitating all your personal experiences, feelings, aspirations, and showing off your ideals and visions of the world around us by using a piece of paper and a pen. What lies ahead of our future? Who shall be the one to pass this on for the next generation. It's only you, the young ones. As our beloved national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal quoted, 'The youth is the hope of our nation'," Ma'am Rhea Azuela dramatically spoke, and her fists were firmly closed.

Everyone groaned with the exemption of Ma'am Rhea whose energy was trying hard to somehow radiate the entire classroom.

"Hmm... Okay, you only have two options: To create or not to create. My role as a teacher is simply taking down of your grades and morals in your report card. If you want a failing grade, why not? I'll give it to you. Other than that, what does youth always say? You only live once, eh? So, I won't stop you from not submitting your requirement," Ma'am Rhea shrugged.

"Anyways, for those who wished to conform to the task, listen up. Before you start writing, I would love to give a bit of a background about our today's lesson. I'm sure most of you familiar with them. We've known different lyrical poems, epic poems and etcetera. Now, I'll ask you. What is haiku? Anyone?"

"Just give me a gist of it."

Students were staring at each other's eyes, and no one dared to speak. Few were looking at the white board. Most were avoiding an eye contact from their instructor. Some of them were gaping at the outside of the room. Ma'am Rhea whined and continued.

"Guys, you have to talk. Remember, this is an English class. You have to hone your communication skills. How are you going supposed to learn if you don't utilize your mouths? Ha? Come on. No answers are wrong in language. It's more on thoughts and ideas that we should express. You should be engaging more on interaction. And pretty please, let's help each other out. Don't leave me hanging guys, Okay?"

"Now, any thoughts from this group?" she asked, looking at the first row. Ma'am Rhea was about to choose her lucky victim when one of her students raised her right hand, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss? What do you think? What is haiku?"

"May I go to the comfort room?" the wench replied.

Some of the senior high students were retaining their soon-to-be-bursted laughter. Ma'am Rhea sighed, and said, "Yes, you may."

The young lass stood up straight, and said, "But, If I am not mistaken, haiku refers to a five-seven-five syllable count in a one three-phrase stanza. It is also originated in Japan."

"Again, thank you for your permission, Ma'am."

The schoolgirl went to the school comfort room, leaving the entire class in amusement. Ma'am Rhea snapped her fingers to get back her little ones' focus.

"That's my girl! She got it right. Finally, someone saved you from danger, eh?" the teacher cunningly grinned, and the student were then relieved. 

"And since this is a surprise activity, you need not to compose a haiku. Still, it is included in your quarterly exams. Instead, I challenge you to write a poem. Freestyle. Whether you want to have your piece that consists of a rhyme, or a regular meter. It's up to you. Make sure it has three stanzas. Do you understand me, Yeats?"

Dassah lifted up her hand up, and called, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Dassah?"

"What would the topic be about?" the student asked.

"Hmm... Good question," Ma'am Rhea nodded, and began considering a great theme for her class's written poetry. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped up. She smiled and responded to her student.

"It should be based on your personal experience. For example, your bonding with your family and friends. Maybe you want to write about your life as a student, and whatsoever. The sky's the limit."

"So, any questions?"

The class replied, "None."

"Okay. You may now start. And please let me check your composition before the bell rings whether it is done or not. I'll give a plus point and a secret award for those who could create a finished piece," Ma'am Rhea announced, and sat down on her chair to relax her voluptuous legs.

"Ma'am, what is the reward?" one man asked.

"It won't be confidential anymore, if I'll tell you, mister," she said.

The students proceeded writing on their mandatory art work. Creative juices were flooding up inside of their right brains. Tearing papers were echoing everywhere in the section. Loud mental groans from every school teens dominated in the class. Frustration mixed with determination to make a possible masterpiece were obviously transparent on their hopeless faces. Dassah who eventually ended her write-up stood up from her armchair, and submitted it to her English teacher. 

Ma'am Rhea was impressed, and took her ample time to read her three-stanza poem. As she perused Dassah's work, she smiled in delight.

"Miss Quinn."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I have a dumb question," the instructor said. She glanced at her unknowing student in mischief, and continued her talk.

" Are you in love?"

"NO WAY, MA'AM," Dassah yelled at her teacher. Her classmates instantly shifted their gaze at the two. She became flustered, and softly spoke, "Umm... Sorry, ma'am. I was just shocked. But, no, I am not, ma'am."

"And what makes you think that I'm uh..."

Ma'am Rhea replied, still smiling, "In love?"

Dassah slowly nodded in embarrassment,"Uh-huh."

"It's just my assumption. It seems the message of your poem conveys about a clichè romance like this love at first sight kind of scene. Ah. Reminds me of my first young love,"  Ma'am Rhea Azuela said, feeling the nostalgia of her past teen era.

"And, what's even more interesting is that I instructed you to have a poem that talks about your life encounters." Dassah's teacher continued.

"Then, I thought I might be wrong, so which is why I asked you."

Dassah again nodded as an abiding servant, and the English teacher spoke again herself, "So, mind if I ask you the story behind this piece of yours?"

"Um... Sure, Ma'am. But, it already says it all," Dassah said.

"It's basically this. I met a guy at a convenience store, and I did not forsee anything that we would see each other for the second time around. And for me, I was happy it happened for the both of us."

Ma'am Rhea could no longer hide her squeals, and let it out without any reservation.

"Oh, ignore my giggles. The story was too cute. But hey, Miss Quinn. This is your prize," she commented, and gestured her to move closer. Dassah came near to her instructor in obedience.

"You'll present it to the other class."

"Ma'am?!" Dassah exclaimed in terror.

"Shh... Don't tell anyone," she warned the young lady.

"But, but..."

Ma'am Rhea smiled, and said, "You may go back to your seat, Miss Quinn."

Dassah heaved a sigh of defeat, and move herself back to her armchair.  Floating her countless regrets of submitting her poem, the young lady had enough of the trap, and let the situation sail by itself.

Dassah Quinn had left no choice but to stay with a perfect stranger. Yearning for someone who would help them get out of trouble and leave the olden storage room is her gleam of hope. 

In the course of incarceration, Dassah unexpectedly entailed herself in a scheme of discerning the nondescript man, One One.

I didn't want to write this. I really didn't. I'm delighted that my loyal readers gave this book a chance anyway even though it's different from what other novels are like out there. But, I am going to cancel this novel or update slowly. I tried very hard to persist by writing more chapters. But I can't. I lost my direction and creative voice.

It's NOT the reader's fault. It's my own. I love and appreciate all the feedback and comments given. Readers are allowed to offer opinions and critiques. I praise those who do. It's very insightful and thoughtful. 

The reason why I chose to give up is for two reasons. I lost my direction, meaning that it's not coming out the way I initially wanted it. The reason why is because I felt that since my story is different, I took a risk, which all authors do. We take risks. 

But unfortunately, I changed and re-wrote this story twice because I tried to make it good. But I didn't follow my initial instinct because I was afraid of what people may think, which is my fault for overthinking in the first place. 

Now, for the second reason. I am comparing this book to my first one. Now, it's challenging to grasp attention as a novice writer with no experience. But my first book, "Daughters of the Elite," FAILED the first time. It flopped. Badly. I went in and re-wrote it. 

NOW, it has a million views, hundreds of comments, and dozens of reviews. I never thought it would reach that audience since it's not contracted. But it did, and I'm happy and thrilled! 

The second time I wrote it, I received collections and votes quickly. I struggled at first, but my audience multiplied, once the word spread. My synopsis grabbed people, and I didn't enter any competitions because I didn't like the fact that people had to pay spirit stones. UGH. The amount of money I spent on this app because of 1000+ chapter novels. 

I hated the spirit stone system, so when I began writing, I wanted my stories to be good and free, but the issues are none of my works are promoted for that reason. 

I didn't gain a cent writing DOTE, but it's OKAY. I write these books for fun, but in the end, I know when to stop if it's not doing well. This book is not doing well at all. Which, again, I am not hurt by it that much, because I have book three that keeps me going. 

Before publishing this book, I received many requests and comments about how people were excited about book two, and I feel like I failed you guys. It's mysterious for sure, with some intrigue. But it's not what people want. 

Book 3, however, is anticipated. Now, I already began writing the book, and there are no struggles with it so far in terms of plot writing. *Hopefully* but I should drop this one. I persisted with DOTE; I failed on this one. I'm sorry. 

This book is about love that is thought to be lost but regained over time. 

NOW! I might complete this novel!!! However, updates will be unpredictable. It could be once every few days, maybe once a week. I am focused on book three. 

I really do like writing this book. But again, not many people like the idea of this one, of course, as you readers being the wonderful exception. 

I will be deleting this chapter in 24 hours so I can proceed with new chapters. But again will be mainly working on book three:

...

BOOK THREE:

"A SONG FOR A SUMMER'S NIGHT" 
 
[Release will be in one or two weeks]
Tags: Romance; Arranged Marriage; Forbidden Romance

Song Luli is a sharp-tongued, bold, and reserved young woman who unexpectedly becomes the new successor of her father's company—Song Entertainment—right after her older sister abruptly disinherits herself. 

Song Luli, now the heiress of a large company, soon receives word that Song Entertainment is crumbling in the business world, and to secure her position; she must marry Long Jie, a wickedly handsome heir of a conglomerate, who is bound to duty and responsibility. 

Long Jie is a handsome, ruthless, and calculative young man who destroys careers or makes them, and he is known to be frigid by rejecting every offer for a suitable match. 

But he picks Song Luli. 

On the terms of marriage, they agreed to never fall in love, to never think about the possibility as they dedicate their time towards their jobs and families. Marriage benefited both of them for the sake of power and to survive the turmoils of High Society. 

Watch as the budding romance blooms between two stubborn and cynical individuals who share more in common than they want to admit, learning more about what it means to be married, and battle the power struggles that they face, together. 

Meanwhile... 

Song Luli's cousin Su Xiang is an aspiring doctor devoted to her job and inheriting the legacy her mother built. She is the heiress of Song Pharmaceuticals, but when her older adoptive brother returns from four years of Medical school, she must confront the blooming feelings she harbours for him. 

Until next time, and hopefully, I succeed.

What happens if the person you thought you hated the most turned out to be the one who loves you ceaselessly, unconditionally, and passionately? 

Status: Completed

...

Xue Guangli was a young woman who followed her mother’s legacy; she won’t marry to get above her status. She will earn it. 

However, when a tragedy struck her home, she lost sight of the things she wanted. 

To get her life in order, she must regain the classy legacy she left behind, find the real suspect of her mother’s killer, and pave a way through the challenges thrown at her. 

But when it comes to her mother’s murder trial, Xue Guangli is forced to get help from the man she hates the most—Long Huojin. Long Huojin is an achingly handsome and devastatingly perfect successor of a large conglomerate, but the two never got along. 

Xue Guangli hated Long Huojin for most of her life—so much that when he looks at her, she can hardly breathe. 

Long Huojin, on the other hand, secretly pines for Xue Guangli patiently waiting for the day she’ll let him in. 

***Novel Completed at Chapter 70***

——

“Her eyes dropped to the hollow of his throat, to the bob of his Adam's apple. Her gaze lingered and stopped at his mouth, at the seams of his lips. It hadn't occurred to her what it would feel like to taste them.” 


Keywords: Male Lead; Female Lead; Romance; Crime Drama; Strong Female Protagonist; Respectful Male Lead; No Prolonged Misunderstandings; No Sexual Assault; No Evil Sisters; Detailed Smut; 18+ 

——
 

Other Works: 

Daughters of the Elite (4.8)
A Song For a Summer's Night 

Art cover isn't mine. Will remove when asked.

"That kid...he actually misses me!" cried Plagg, rolling on Mari's desk.

"That's why I told you, you can go home. Wayzz is there with you so I believe you'll both be fine." replied Marinette, who seems to be busy scribbling something.

"What is that?" he floats circling around Mari's hands.

"I am writing lyrics for Luka's song. I can't believe I used that as an alibi. Now I'll have to really start writing so we could have something to work on tomorrow." she said, her hand pushing against her temples.

"I thought you were going to help Adrien look for his cat?" Plagg crossed his arms.

Marinette glances, frowning at the cat, "You are aware I'm too guilty to do that, right? I really thought he lost an actual cat."

"I am a cat!"

"You are a kwami, Plagg." she corrects, "I feel really bad for Chat, and that feeling is drowning me twice as much, knowing he's also Adrien."

"You don't have to sound so guilty about it. I took the initiative of staying away from him. You lost Tikki, how am I supposed to be at ease with that?"

"And he lost you Plagg." she replied with sad eyes, "We both know how sad Adrien's childhood been. He's never had many friends and had never had the chance to go out much. You're one of the reasons why Adrien can become himself throught Chat Noir. I just...hope you don't forget that."

Marinette and the little black ends up staring at each other.

"Nothing is going to get resolved by this." he whispered in a serious tone.

Plagg then decides to float away from Marinette, frustrated of himself. He flies to Tikki's bed at Marinette's headboard, pondering whether he did the right thing or maybe what he did made things more complicated than it already is.

* * * * * * * * *

"Don't forget to practice your piano today." reminded Natalie before she closed the door.

As soon as the secretary disappeared, the boy plunges himself to his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"The cheese disappeared when morning came. He must have dropped by while I was sleeping." he mumbles to himself, sighing, "Oh Plagg, where are you?"

"Do not worry about Plagg." said Wayzz levitating out of Adrien's bag. The boy was awfully surprised crawling away from his bag in fear before he realized it was just Master Fu's former kwami.

"Wayzz?" he said crawling back to him.

"Hello, Adrien." Wayzz courteously bowed.

"What were you doing in my bag? And what do you mean 'not to worry'? Do you know where Plagg is?"

Wayzz smiled, "Fear not, Plagg is out on a mission with the guardian. He should come back to your side soon."

"Plagg is with Ladybug?"

"Correct. In the meantime, the master sent me to keep you company." he proudly grinned. Wayzz remembered what Marinette told him. Tell Chat the truth but walk around the truth, and Wayzz did it wonderfully.

"And what it this mission you speak of?" Adrien cocks an eyebrow, crossing his legs on his bed.

"A very important mission." Wayzz said confidently. That didn't give him the answer he wanted.

"And why does Plagg have to do it without me when I'm his partner?" he pries.

"Uhh..well that is..." Wayzz stutters. The kwami realized the only answer to that was because Ladybug lost Tikki and Plagg deliberately decided to be by her side. 

Adrien leans in pressuring Wayzz, "Well?"

Gulp. "I am sorry I cannot tell you. It's highly confidential for now." Wayzz exclaimed eyes closed. Adrien realizes how unfair it was for him to corner Wayzz when he was just doing his job.

Adrien chuckles, "Ease up, I'm not going to roast you more of this." he said smiling with lonely eyes, "It's just sad how I feel like I'm too useless to function."

Wayzz felt a pinch in his heart, "That is not  true!" He floats up to his face, surprising the dear boy, "Master Fu chose you as Chat Noir because he knew despite your circumstances, you have a good heart. You know how it feels to be broken and you know how to deal with it. That's why you complete Ladybug who is continuously broken everyday unaware of what to do. You compliment each other. And yet..." Wayzz pauses, feeling down, "I wonder why she would rather shoulder all of it to herself when she knows she's about to fall apart."

Adrien looked stunned hearing all of those. He never knew he held that kind of responsibility apart from saving Paris.

* * * * * * * * * *

A mountain of scribbled paper is supposed to be a sign of a writer's creative dump, but for Marinette, it was just dump. None of her creative juices were working so she leans back to her chair, feeling drained and helpless. 

"This isn't working." she mumbles to herself, "I got one four-lined stanza and I don't even think it makes any sense." she groans covering her face, "I'm a disaster."

She notices the room has become quiet and the black cat was nowhere near her.

"Plagg?" she decides to call for him. There was no response. "Where is that cat?" she stands up breezing around her room. She opens her trunks, flips her cushion, peeks under the lamp, no Plagg. She glances up to her loft hoping he'd be there.

"Pla....gg?" she said, her head peeking out from the end of the bed. There he was, sleeping on Tikki's bed. Marinette felt relieved he hadn't left. She worried he might have decided to go back and disappeared without saying a word.

"He's sleeping." she crawls over her sheets, getting close to the curled up cat. Marinette notices a trail of water that had rolled down on Plagg's cheek. "He must have cried himself to sleep." she swooped in her hand, lifting Plagg to her, "I know I'm not the only one sacrificing right now. You're in a lot more pain being away from Adrien. He's your best friend after all." she whispers sadly.

Plagg began to gain awareness of his surrounding. The little guy was shocked finding himself on Mari's palm as he sluggishly rubbed the sleep from his eye.

"Marinette?" he slowly got up.

"Did I wake you?" she replied.

Plagg shook his head, "I was feeling a bit tired so I took a nap."

"I know." she smiled, "But I want to apologize for saying all those things earlier. I know you're trying your best to stay away from Adrien to keep him safe and yet I selfishly told you to go home so he'd feel better. I didn't consider the sacrifice you had to make."

Plagg blinked, "No, don't say that. You were right. It's unfair how I just left Adrien without a word. I should have went home with Nooroo that night and explained to him in the morning how I'll need to be gone for a while."

The two fell silent.

"I still think you should at least see Adrien, but I don't like the idea of you being in the same house as Hawkmoth." Mari explained.

"Why don't you just go with me?" Plagg suggests.

Mari frowns, "But I can't transform into Ladybug without Tikki. He'll figure out my identity if I turn into something else."

"Then what about that?" Plagg gestures playing the flute.

Mari gasps realizing what he meant, "Of course! You're brilliant Plagg!" she exclaimed pulling the kwami into a cheek hug.

"You finally recognize my talent." he smugly replied.

The story is a fictional continuation from where the series has ended so far. Adrien now decides to date Kagami and Marinette has lost hope of her dream relationship with Adrien. Luka now officially courts Marinette making her feel that maybe Luka is the right one for her. She now decides to support Adrien and lives up to how she's always been to him―a very good friend. But will Marinette be able to hold her feelings back once she finds out the truth about Adrien?

It all began the day before my father's death. I remember our last conversation as clear as day. I admitted to him my lack of confidence in my desired profession. I told him I want to become a writer but that I lack the ability to be truly creative. I lack the ability to see it in my mind. I just want to be an author and create something new and admirable. When I spoke of my worries to him, of my faltering conscience, he only laughed. It made me angry, but before I could speak on it, he spoke to me. 
"I know you, Gracie, and I believe you can do whatever you put your mind to." He held my hand and squeezed gently. As much as I knew he was trying to comfort me, it didn't help as much as I wanted it too. He's been telling me this my whole life. 
"I don't know, dad. I think I'm in over my head.  I want to live many different lives. I only get one chance at the one I have now and the only time I can really get out to the world and make friends and create things that others could never do is through words." Feeling tears come at this admission, I let go of his hand. He didn't look hurt and my irritation flared some. I have a slight temper problem sometimes. It can be an upsetting development in certain situations because nobody knows quite what to do with me. It's one of the other reasons I want to escape this world. I'm not sure I could really live with how people look at me. Disgust. Fear. Upset. The only people who ever understand me is dad, Timmy, and my mom. My dad is an old soul and very clumsy. He's always breaking stuff. Timmy is only a small child. Well, he was a small child. My mom is a very quiet person. Though when she does talk, she's a very chipper woman. I think I got my temper from my grandpa. He died about two years back, but I knew him well enough to keep my distance. 
"It'll all work out. I just know it will." Dad said to me. It was a small comfort, knowing I had his support. 
The next day, we ate dinner at the table together. Timmy was eating his Macaroni and cheese with his hands and sitting in his high chair. Mom hadn't realized what had happened until much later and I was locked inside my own mind, traveling around the depths and corners, still trying to distinguish and organize everything in there.
At first I thought the clump sound I heard was Timmy throwing his bowl again, so I paid no mind. I wish I could go back to my 13 year old self and tell myself to pay attention. Maybe it wouldn't have ended that way.
It's been fifteen years since that moment. I remember that distinct sound, that CLUMP! that ended all the normalcy of my life. It was a heart attack, we were told. I don't ever remember heart attacks ever causing someone to be in a coma for six years. Mom eventually gave up and signed the paperwork to pull the plug. He's gone now. They told us after his first examination that if we had gotten him to the hospital even a few moments before, he would have had a better chance at survival. It was all my fault then. Mom was hysterical and her first instinct was to run to him and hold his spasming body. How I couldn't even notice him right in front of me, having a seizure of some sort, I have no idea. I guess I was just too absorbed and too busy being selfish. 
I'm twenty eight now. I finished a four year college on literature, journalism, and the fine arts. I figured learning about creative things would give me some real creative ideas. After graduating, it was difficult to find a decent working job. I found a company called "If Life Was a Book" and applied there. The company was created specifically for aspiring authors. They allow me to write my stories there and have them edited and published. The more popularity, the more money goes into the company. It's only a new place, but I'm sure it will be prosperous. It's almost always half full in the main writing room. I find the typing on the keyboards to be pleasing.
I remember Timothy's reaction when I told him I finally found the perfect place to live out my dream profession. He was playing video games in his room and there was a girl in there. I honestly think he could do much better than that. The girl looked like a slutty hippie, with those really high Mexican style heels, the short, tight, shiny shirt and the lumpy skirt with soft looking fabric. She had her hair up messily and I realized what had occurred after a moment of thinking. There was even a used condom on the floor. 
When I told Timmy of my accomplishment, he barely said anything to me. I'm sure he heard me because he nodded in my direction. I learned later that the girl's name is Lizabeth, but most people just call her Beth. 
Mom's reaction was none too similar. Ever since dad was first induced into his coma, mom killed off her twenty two years of sobriety. She was always drunk. This time, when I came to her with the news, she just laughed at me. 
"Oh Grrracie, Gracc—," She laughed an amused laugh and stumbled forward a bit. "Do you really think he's cheering you on right now? No, he's not. He's wondering right this second as he watches his daughter just why he helped birth you. He wonders why you try SO hard to accomplish something you'll never be able to have. He would be ashamed to find you still groveling to everyone around you. He would be ashamed to know that you aren't even doing this for his family. Wouldn't it be sad if he knew why you're really doing this? How do you think he would feel if he knew you only work at that dumb company because you're still in denial that he's gone." She let out a snarky laugh. I've gotten used to this type of behavior from her. It's become almost normal. 
Before I know what's happening, I'm in her face, blood boiling and face scrunched up in anger. I huffed into her face.
"And I bet he's turning over in his grave watching you be such a wonderful mother." Sarcasm so strong it could break through titanium leaks out dreadfully. The words are cruel, I know, but I couldn't keep them in. Her eyes fill up to the brim with salt water. She slaps me, something I didn't see coming until I felt the burn on my face. She's seething. She's said all these things to me and when I get mad, she rages. I'm not even sure what she was expecting. I let out a dark, humorless laugh and walk out the room. 
I don't allow myself to cry as I leave that house. I needed to go back to my book. 
I've been working at the company for three years now. I've written a few books since then. Only two, but I never thought writing would be so time consuming. I wrote a book about a girl gaining special powers from her father who happened to be the King. She didn't know that until the end though. The other book was about a girl who is constantly being chased by her own nightmares and one day the Nightbringer welcomes himself into the dreams and turns them into reality. It was almost a reflection of my life. That was probably why it was such a successful book. "The Nightbringer," I called it. It was only so successful because it was very detailed and reflected my emotions. I had to add the story of my life in the acknowledgements if only to help people understand me better.
That moment three years ago was the moment I realized I couldn't stay in that house anymore, so I left without saying a word. It wasn't worth staying anyway. I got an apartment on one of the quieter parts of town. The city shuffled everywhere all the time, always moving. Maybe that's what kept the city alive. It doesn't matter though because I'm used to it by now.
I walk through the door of my home after a long day of tapping keys. I made it to about two hundred thousand letters today and my fingers ached. It was definitely more than I usually write. Even sticking the keys through the doorknob was difficult. My hands shook and it took a whole six and a half minutes to finally get the door open. My neighbor lended a hand after hearing me struggling with it and then walked back inside his apartment. Inside was cold. The cold air had been turned on this morning. I woke up sweating because of the heat and turned it on this morning. If seems as though I forgot to turn it back off again. It feels like a blizzard rolled in unannounced. 
I'm so stupid, I think to myself. Why am I such an idiot? And so forgetful? You'd think I'd have learned by now. Mistakes being made seems to be a habit I've had recently. I just can't help it. I've been trying to quit, but nothing seems to work. I sigh as I set down the keys. I'm so tired I could sleep for ages. It's a Thursday though, so I can't expect anything nice tomorrow except more writing early in the morning. I get paid tomorrow. I'm ready to hurry up and get these damn bills paid for and done with. Great. Just great. I've begun cursing in my own head. A humorless laugh escapes me. I seem to be having a good bit of those recently. What the hell am I supposed to do. 
I jump as I stand there. I hear a vibrating sound along with some sort of alarm and my heart skitters and jumps. Then I realize the buzzing and alarm sounds are coming from my phone. 
Once again, I feel a wave of self-totally-not-appreciation. "Yunoka" the ringer said. Yuno is my best friend if not my only friend. She's Japanese but definitely knows her English. She's taught me the basic of Japanese and I tend to educate her on Spanish sometimes which I took in high school. 
I press the green call button and bring the phone to my ear. As I do that, I begin removing my shoes. "Hello?" My voice is tired and I hope she doesn't notice. 
No such luck.
"Oh my goodnessers, Gracie, are you alright? You sound like someone just karate chopped you in the throat and then stole your voice, chopped that, too and gave it back in an unsuccessful surgery." I let out a rough laugh, and my throat was sore. Yuno can always make me laugh.
"Oddly specific." I mutter after my laugh.
"For good reason, girl, trust me. Anyway, I was calling to see if you could edit my article for the newspaper."
"You're still working on that thing? Don't you know that nobody reads those except old people?"
"Hey, one day we will be those old people reading these papers. Be respectful to your elders, Gracie because one day those elders could be you." I laugh again.
"Yes, ma'am." I joke. All of a sudden Yuno's voice is serious. 
"Gracie, on a more serious note, how have you been feeling? I know your mother isn't doing too well and Timmy is still being a man hoe and failing at life, so I want to know if you've been alright. You haven't been pushing yourself too hard, have you?" I don't have to think of my answer too long. 
"Have no fear, Yuno, everything is fine. As for my mom and Timmy, they've made their choices. I'm just caught up in work and deadlines right now although I definitely passed it today."
Yuno's voice is sincere: "I know, honey. Maybe you should take a leave of absence for a little while. You know, kind of relax. Take a deep breath and think about things. I know how you can be sometimes. It can't possibly be healthy." Now I just really want to end the call. I hate talking about serious stuff. It bothers me on a very severe emotional level. 
I have always told Yuno that my home life isn't something I like to talk about so hearing her talking about it to me like it's some normal thing we do all the time is annoying. 
"Yuno." I reply sternly. "Good night. I need sleep. It's the only relaxing I'm going to get anytime soon." 
I swiftly end the call and take a shower. The water on my back is more relaxing than any lousy breaks. My work is what keeps me sane and alive. Yuno doesn't understand me at all. I'm still going to try to fit in editing her article into my schedule, but I'm still not happy about her intrusion on my personal life. 
I hurry out of the shower and into my bed. It's definitely not the most comfortable thing in the world, but's it's better than home. No, I tell myself. This is my home. 
But in my mind, a distant saying circles my brain and hounds my thoughts.
"Home is where the heart is." 
I wish that were true.

Twenty-eight year old Gracie Pierce wants to be a writer. With her father dead, her mother as a drunk, and her little brother addicted to video games and girls, she has persistent urges to write if only to escape her home life. One day, Gracie is so captivated by her own story that she gets entranced and trapped by it and becomes a literal character inside her book. In order to return home to her family back in the real world, Gracie must become the hero of her own creativity. However, Gracie begins to wonder if she truly wants to leave the fantasy world at all; especially considering all that she has to go through in the real world. Warning: Not much romance here. Told from Gracie’s point of view. Support for this book is greatly appreciated. The more support is equal to the amount of motivation I have to continue writing! Thanks! :) (Light Fantasy)

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