Lunar is an unusual extraordinary girl, but most other people including her think that she is just one ordinary 15-year-old teenage girl who casually walks to her everyday school, Westdale High. But really, her true- identity lays underneath her skin, in a different mysterious world full of battle and conflict that awakens her true self. But that just happens on a spontaneous, inexplicable, night, with one perfect full moon.


1. Lunar Wylon

Lunar didn’t want to go past them. Those terrible, rude, disturbing bullies. The sound of their laughs sent deadly chills down Lunar’s spine. They were hanging around the dull, grey lockers, their voices echoing down the deep, hollow corridor. There was an atrocious group of them. She had to go past them. It felt like the beginning of a death march. Lunar took a deep breath and soundlessly took a few empty steps towards those monsters. As she gradually reached them, she quick paced her steps to sleekly go past them. As she stepped out, a sharp, painful push found her falling sideways and onto the stone- cold floor. The pain came rushing towards her, in a drifty harsh way that made disbelief tears surround her eyes.

“Well, well… oh! Here with have the lunatic!”

A low chuckle came across a crowd of people. Lunar knew that raspy, crispy, terrible voice. The voice of Rose Mary. Lunar moved her head in a slow, heavy motion towards Rose. It was a terrible sight, especially from the ground. Rose’s deadly black eyes scorched into hers, daring not to move or blink. Her jet-black hair came down the sides of her face, glimmering in the suns dull daylight.

“Leave me alone,” Lunar mutters, trying not to tremble in her own voice. She picked herself up with her hands and stood tall against Rose. They were about the same height and same length. “What a lovely picture this would be,” thought Lunar. With one deadly glance, she shoved past Rose and all her other friends, putting as much force into her shove. The last thing she could hear was a loud scoff. “Rose,” was all that Lunar thought of as she stepped out into the flocculent, crispy afternoon, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “It could have been worse,” whispered Lunar to herself. When she looked at herself on the doors reflection, all she could see was that lame, forgotten girl. Her golden, silky hair cascaded down the sides of her slightly tanned arms. Her hazel earth eyes pierced angrily at herself, still with enraged tears. With one last glance, she turned away into the shallow afternoon.

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