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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » Lest I should fall by Arianna Erickson (mystery books to read TXT) 📖

Book online «Lest I should fall by Arianna Erickson (mystery books to read TXT) 📖». Author Arianna Erickson



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their own twins, their precious children. If only things had ended there, if only we had grown up normal, but no. Things got worse. My first word was shiny, on account of I loved shiny things; Brice’s, mom. They freaked not because of what we said, but how we said it. It’s never been heard of for a child to speak its first word telepathically such as Brice and I had. So, the instant we were old enough, they quickly enrolled Brice and I into a catholic school, even though they were Christian, in hopes of cleansing us and saving us.
In our school, I was always the quiet, shy one. Brice, on the other hand, was my exact opposite. He made many friends, while I watched from the shadows, alone. Brice quickly became everyone’s favorite, especially our parents, I tried so hard to fit in, but nothing I tried worked. No matter how hard I worked, nothing I did was right; always wrong. However, our demonic powers seemed to disappear, which pleased my parents. So, at least, I thought, I was doing something right, because eventually we turned into a family again, and slowly they took notice of me.
They started to love me, too, just like Brice. I started making friends at school, I had finally done something right for once, and I was happy; we all were, or so it seemed. Little did I know, things weren’t as normal as they seemed.
My mother was starting to take medication to hide her growing anxiety, because as the demon warned, she was going to die. She saw shadows everywhere, felt eyes watching her every movement. She stopped eating, and hardly ever slept, but no one noticed, because she faked it so well, pretending we were a perfect happy family. Nevertheless, everyone has his or her limits. She exceeded hers, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
One night, on Brice’s 9th birthday, and mine, mom gave a gift-wrapped box each, to both Brice and I. She told us not to open it until later, so we both ran and put it in our room. She gave us both a hug and kiss, told us how proud of us she was and that she loved us, and to never forget it. Then she excused herself from the table to go out doors, claiming she needed some fresh air. None of us noticed her slip the handgun into her hand as she walked outside.
A few seconds later, we heard a gun go off, and frantic, we ran out side screaming our mom’s name. Brice found her first, behind our barn lying crumbled on the ground, blood, wet and crimson pooled around her beautiful black hair and pale body. Brice and I screamed as our father came rushing to us. When he saw our mother, his wife, lying on the ground dead, the gun still in her lifeless hand, he fell to his knees crying along with Brice who practically threw himself at our moms body sobbing. I was shocked beyond words. I wanted to cry, but nothing would come. It felt like a dream. Like, this can’t be happening to me. Too bad it was.
Before I knew it, we were digging our own mother a grave in our yard on our birthday. No words can ever express the emotions felt that night. Nothing can tell the grief that tore me up inside. After she was buried, we went inside, somberly put away the birthday cake untouched, and got ready for bed.
I slid into bed then remembered the box my mother had handed me before she killed herself. It was folded carefully, and with perfection in mind in purple wrapping paper. I took off the paper as carefully as it was wrapped, opened the box, and inside, on a delicate gold chain was a locket with my first name engraved on it. I opened the locket to find a picture of my mom and dad holding Brice and I on their laps as toddlers. We looked so happy. From one look at the picture you’d never know the pain that was really there, hidden beneath those smiles.
The tears finally had started to come when I began looking at that picture. Brice noticed from his bed, he could hear my stifled cries. He came over and looked at me and saw the opened box on my bed and me holding the locket to my chest. He had quickly grabbed his own box and carefully un-wrapped it. He pulled out a gold locket just like mine, same picture and everything, the only difference was his name was engraved on the front of his, and my name on mine.
Something suddenly urged me to turn over my locket and see what was on the back. On the back were three words carved into it with great care. Those three, simple words, tore me apart…
I love you

I sobbed pathetically as I held it to my chest. Brice held me in his arms and tried to comfort me. Instead, we both cried on my bed together; mourning the loss of our beloved mother.

From that point on, our father was never the same. He constantly blamed us for our mothers’ death, and often drank, progressively over the years and got worse. He started beating Brice, and all I could do was watch. I heard his screams, saw the bruises on his skin he tried so hard to hide, bandaged his wounds, and wiped away his blood. Eventually, after a couple months I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to protect him. Heh, I remember the day as clear as if it just happened.

Brice and I had just gotten home from school when we were in the 6th grade. Father was more drunk than usual. We came through the door and the scent of alcohol filled our nose. Father staggered into the room looking disheveled and with a look on his face that would cause a bear to fall over dead. Brice quickly whispered to me to get into our bedroom and hide. I quickly ran and did as instructed. It was quiet, and suddenly I heard yelling, running feet and things being thrown. I silently snuck a peak out of our room and saw my father with a lamp trying to throw it, in hand, aimed for Brice. Brice was a heap on the floor, everything around him in pieces or shoved aside. There was blood running down the side of his cheek, a look of slight horror on his face, but he made no attempt at getting away. I don’t know how I managed, but I screamed “run”. When I did, it seemed to pull him out of his trance like state, and he got out of the way just as the lamp was sent flying, and ran out the back door towards the woods.
My father didn’t seem to notice me as he ran after Brice, a butcher knife in hand.
I quickly followed suite, running into the woods. I kept running, following the voices of Brice and my dad in the distance screaming. My heart was pounding as I ran and finally found them at the creek. Dad was throwing punches at Brice screaming the whole time that he had just made it worse for himself by running away, and Brice was trying to ward off the blows, to no avail.
I ran to Brice and shoved father, with all my strength, away from Brice in hopes of helping him. That’s when our dad turned around glaring and decided it was my turn. He came at me thrashing wildly and viciously. I pierced the night with my screams and sobs. Finally, he grabbed hold of my shirt, and dragged me into the creek. He brought me to the middle where it was deepest, and held my head under the water. Brice watched. He watched me thrash about with venom in his eyes towards me, just stood there watching. All the while, I tried to reach my head above the water for air; I could feel my lunges already filling with it. And just as I was breathing my last breath, something awoke inside me. Something strong, and full of power; waiting at my command to use. I called to the unknown power and willed it to help me escape my watery grave.
“I am Sora, Master; your bidding is mine to obey, but only at a cost. For nothing comes without a price. I will serve you always, but in return, I require a life. Promise it to me and I shall save you.”
“Yes…anything...” I choked.
All around me light exploded through the murky, dark waters, and into the sky above, blindingly. The power took control of my body, my very soul, and in an instant my father was thrown off my body, and landed near the shore. The power possessing me lifted me out of the water, light poured through my mouth and eyes, surrounding me. As suddenly as the light was there it vanished, safely placing me on the shore in front of my father. When the light disappeared, my eyes were a demonic red, staring evilly, and then in a blink of an eye, were replaced with my normal eye color and a look of shock.
My father stood, watching my eyes with pure horror and gasped, “Monster…I should have killed you when I had the chance!”
That’s when I realized he had the butcher knife in his hand and was holding it to his heart. He plunged it in his chest with force. Blood trickled down his lips as his mouth turned from a pained grimace to a cruel grin, and his eyes looking up to meet mine and Brice’s. Fighting to stay up right, but stumbling backwards, the grin still on his face he said his last dying words.
“I curse you both to hell where you belong, and pray for your end to come.”
As he spoke his last and final word, his body hit the water with a splash, signaling his demise.
I felt bile in my throat, and was choking back tears, but unsuccessfully keeping the hot tears from streaming down my cheeks. And there in front of me, lay my father, dead, and it was my entire fault. But the worst part was the silence. The world didn’t care. All it meant was just another death. You cry a little, mourn, say a few good words, and then go on with your life, nothing more nothing less.
I looked over at Brice sorrow filled desperation and found only his hate-filled eyes piercing my gaze. I fell backwards, and landed on the ground beneath me. The darkness stirred in front of me.
“This life I have will be payment enough, Master,” Sora whispered as out of the darkness a beautiful angel appeared with wings the color of black coal and a beauty so amazing it hurt to look at. The only thing that even suggested that the angel before me was an angel of darkness was his dark aura, as well as the pulsing darkness surrounding him, and even then, it hypnotized you, compelling you to want to melt into its arms. Just one look sapped all your willpower away.
“How could you! You took the last parent I have!” I sobbed.
“I was only doing your bidding, Master Blythe,” Sora whispered calmly.
“Leave!” I screamed.
Sora’s beautiful face suddenly turned on me with anger; “Fine!” he growled demonically,” I’m only protecting you because Lucifer ordered me to!”
My face fell, “Wha…?”
“That’s right,” he sneered, “I’ll be back when you need me, and I promise, one day you will.”
The darkness around me evaporated and he disappeared. I turned and saw Brice watching with a look of horror and shocked astonishment. And before I realized it, I was on the ground on my knees shaking, the realization of what had just happened just beginning to sink in, creating a
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