bhs sixth form creative writing club

this is a collection of story's that was produced as a collaboration of the bhs sixth form creative writing group. we are a bit odd and they may not make much sense but that's just us.

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5. 24th november

 

she sat down. sinking heavily into the plush sofa. across from her sat him. he was a small, quizzical sort of being. A normal being new better than to question her, especially at a time such as this, when her vindictive nature was most potent. her guest fidgeted shuffling on the dark leather of the hardened chair.

"why have you come, Bernard, what business calls you here at this hour of the night?"

"sorry mam' I-I-I, asked t-t-to see you, I-I-It was necessary to come."

"It couldn't have waited until morning ?"

"no mam'."

"then what is it, speak quickly time is short."

"I-I-I have met a fey who c-c-claims he knows where to find c-cyan"

"well, where is this fey of yours. bring him to me!" she yelled, he had given her hope but had fallen short of actually acquiring the prize. Bernard scuttled out, leaving before she changed her mind or lost her thinly veiled calm. saving his skin from a beating her could never fully recover from. It was the excitement she felt, she was close, at last to see him again. Although he may not remember her, it had been so long. Remembrance is usually fickle and it had caused many a problem as her mind knew well.

At least she could gain some relief from a lead. rising from the dreary state of melancholy nostalgia Luchia poured herself a whiskey from the crystal decanter. She drank a measure savouring the burning sensation as it clawed down her throat. the room felt empty with so little life. The dusty velvet curtains dimmed the fiery light of the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the barren furnishings. she had meant to enjoy her time she spent in London. Away from the rest of the political rabble her kind loved and lived for. she hated politics. The days had passed tediously over the past 7 years. She had kept preoccupied, with her books, executing traitors, the plague, that sort of thing. Luchia giggled, watching them gather flowers because of a lie she fabricated.      

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