Kiss Of Destruction (A Group Story)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3~ Tess

by: KrisWolff
"Mom, do you think we could go out for dinner?" I ask as she walks past me towards the hallway. She stops and I look up at her, smiling hopefully.
"I want to finish my essay for English, and I can focus at Maria's Cafe. Pretty please?" I add, batting my lashes slightly.
My mom sighs and bites her lip, thinking.

"You know what, you can take the car and go out there, I'm not feeling too well. Maybe that chicken I had for lunch at the office," she says, digging in her pocket and then tossing me the keys.

"Really?" I ask in disbelief. She doesn't let me use the car very often, and when she does, it's just to grab her some tampons from the drugstore or something, never for my own benefit.

"Yeah," she winks, "It's about time you go out on your own."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I move my laptop off of my lap and I jump up to hug her.

"Careful, I might throw up!" She jokes and pats my back. "See you before nine o'clock tonight, 'kay?"

I carefully, carefully begin to park the silver car when I get to Maria's. I check all of my mirrors every two seconds, terrified of putting a scratch, a dent, or a bump in my mom's car the first time I get to use it for myself. I notice a bright red motorcycle in my rearview as I back in, and I'm taken back to this morning when I saw that brunette woman in the boots. I'm ripped out of my thoughts when I hear a loud:


ohno, ohno, please, no. I quickly pull forward, and I'm bumped around as the car comes off the concrete parking stop.
I stop the car, turn it off, and I hope against hope that the car is okay. I grab my laptop bag along with my purse and I rush out of the car, checking out the backside.

Thank. GOD.
The car is fine. I can't imagine what would happen if I had damaged Mom's car after she had entrusted me with it. I run a hand through my hair, relieved as all h~ll. I make sure to lock the car before entering Maria's, with my luck, a carjacker would choose this night to steal a certain silver car. The motorcycle leaves my mind, for now...

Why The Fantasy Genre Is Important; by Tess Williamson

Take this moment to wonder: What if you had the ability to manipulate the elements? What would you do with that power? You don't have to wonder while reading a fantasy novel. The author does all of the imagining for you, and you're simply along for the ride. Take another moment, and just think: What if you were a vampire?
My cursor blinks after that question mark, as I stare blankly at it. How the h~ll do I write off of this?

After maybe five minutes of mindlessly nibbling on the slice of pizza I ordered and paid for, trying my absolute hardest to think of how to continue, I break my intense concentration to go to the bathroom.

I swing open the pink-painted door (I hate gender roles...) and I come across an attractive woman applying eyeshadow in the mirror. Her eyes flick to me, and I can't move because this is her, this is the woman outside the bus this morning, she's really here.

"What do you want?" She asks sharply. I avert my eyes and I walk farther in the bathroom, trying to make my way to a stall. I have the feeling it's a bad idea to make trouble with this woman.

"I'm talking to you!" She grabs my right shoulder and I freeze. Is she going to stab me? Mug me?

"What do you want?" I copy her question from a second ago, but I say it quietly while still avoiding her gaze.

"Look at me," she snarls, and I do.
I'm taken aback, not because she looks scary, but because she doesn't. My eyes trace her face and all of her perfect features. Her lips remind me of cherry blossoms, popping up in the middle of spring. My eyes take in every little crease, every little shine and shadow, and I might have looked up for a moment, because I feel myself noticing how deep and soulful her eyes are, even if they do hold darkness. Her beautiful long lashes frame her eyes perfectly, and they start to close, and maybe we kiss and maybe we don't, but the next thing I know, this woman has ripped herself back suddenly and mutters, "No, Lana!" and she almost teleports out of the bathroom, that's how fast she leaves.

I stand in the middle of the brightly-lit bathroom, surrounded by broken floor and wall tiles, puke-green stalls, and a dirty mirror, and I feel... warm. I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, and I feel the kind of star-struckedness you feel when you meet someone you just know you're going to end up loving.

It's petrifying.

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