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The Xylok's Daughter (Chapter Six)KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK-
"Cody, get the door!" Aaron yells from the living room as he settles into his armchair, preparing to watch the news at 4. Bronwyn has immediately vanished to continue with painting the bathroom, so that only leaves me to answer the raging knocks.
I dart down the hallway and approach the door cautiously. Before unlocking the ridiculous amount of security locks which were attached, I take a peek through the spy hole.
Luke. With Sky, Rani and Clyde. The whole lot of them. The chances of me opening the door to them are a million to one, unless of course, they MAKE me.
"Hello?" Luke knocks again. "Anybody there?"
Sky glares right into my eye. "Something's moving in the tiny mirror thingy!"
"Is that you, Seraphine?" Luke asks. "Can you come out, please?"
He has addressed me by my real name. I decide to try a technique humans tend to use in their telephone answer machines. "I AM NOT AVAILABLE AT THE MOMENT...LEAVE A MESSAGE...AND I'LL...I'LL GET BACK
La VampireJ'adore fixer du regard le ciel de minuit,
Mais je me cache du temps en soleille,
La rosier noir c'est attrayant pour moi,
Et aussi, la sang je boirs,
Le loup se promene heureux,
La chauve-souris vole avec plaisir,
J'ecris la poesie aujoird'hui,
Pour montrer que je me suits pas use total monstre,
Que j'ai une ame,
Mais elle a sa liberte.
The Xylok's Daughter (Chapter Five)**THIRD PERSON POV**
"Luke, I have detected alchemistic traces of extraterrestrial life in the house over the past twenty-four hours," a soothing, masculine voice alerted within the attic's breadth.
The consistent flicking of the daily newspaper came to a standstill when Luke bolted upright in his chair at the sudden announcement. He let it slip out of his hands as he turned to where the murmur had come from.
"There has?" he asked with impetuous trepidation.
The revolutionary computer suspired through the speakers. "Actually, this particular energy has been on my examiners for quite a few days now. I apologise for not acquainting you sooner, I thought it would be better for me to gather more knowledge on the basis of this...creature."
"The Drakes family from next door came round last night," Luke piped up. "They're absolute human though - Mum said she had known Bronwyn and Aaron for ages, and neither of them have anything to do with aliens."
Mr Smith was intrigued. "Is there a new elem
The Xylok's Daughter (Chapter Four)"First day at school - spill the beans!" Bronwyn tells me as we stop at another set of traffic lights. At first, I have a slight misapprehension of what she was trying to say, then it comes to me that to 'spill the beans' is human slang, meaning to 'confide a secret'.
"A day of difference," I retort, holding on tightly to my seatbelt as the light turns green again.
"Made any friends?"
The scenery is a blur that passes our transport, teenagers promenading home with their select group of colleagues. Houses of unique shapes and sizes flash past my sight, along with the occasional foliage. Having red vision partly covered in red numerical thoughts does not be of help when I am viewing my surroundings as if an everyday mortal, by reason of having everything I look at bury into a profile of the brain in scrutinization.
I return to the reality of Earth upon hearing of Bronwyn's voice. "Yes?"
"I said, "have you made any friends yet?""
Rani and Clyde pass the window, chucking the puddle
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
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