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Children of Destiny

Page 16

by Nicole R. Stevens


  “It’s time.” He said to the mage.

  “I know,” Kellick whispered reaching out his hand, lightly touching the boy’s cheek. “Know you are forgiven.”

  “I shouldn’t be.” He whispered.

  Burgundy blossomed over white, flowing in rivers to the floor from the knife perched in his chest, his breath pulled from his body as he collapsed to the floor.

  “No!” Adriana screamed, ripping her body from its invisible hold. Her legs carrying her towards the killer. He shoved a chair down in front of her and ran for the open doors. “Come back here.” She cried, reaching out for his shirt, it slipped through her grasp. “Please.” Halting at the doors, he turned to her, “Why did you do it?”

  “I love you.” he said.

  The sound of dying breaths pulled her away from the door. When she turned back, there was nothing but empty space.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nicole was born in Bemidji, MN and was raised in Kent, WA, moved to Tacoma, WA to attend Pacific Lutheran University where she majored in Journalism and Theatre. After college, she met and married her husband, Daniel, and settled their wings in Bonney Lake, WA. In early 2017, they welcomed their son into their lives, and nothing has been the same since.

  She writes when her infant son allows it, or late at night. In the past, Nicole has written and published several of her poems in Zines and across the internet. When not writing, or being a wife and mother she works full time for a tech company in Seattle, WA.

  She is fueled by coffee and chocolate, sometimes to the point of excess.

  A Note from Nicole

  I was 18 years old when I woke up in the middle of the night after having the most vivid dream I can remember. All my senses were engaged; I could still taste the food in my mouth. Feel the wooden planks under my feet. Smell the fresh salty air.

  I rummaged through my desk to find a piece of paper that had not already been scribbled on and a working pen (I am a pen hoarder). Once the paper was acquired, I wrote furiously. I wrote for what felt like an hour, maybe two, but for all I know it was only ten minutes.

  After I finished, I laid back down in my bed, hoping that I could continue this dream, but I didn’t. At school the next day, sitting in my creative writing class, I handed the paper over to my friend who read it through, turned, and said, “What happens next?”

  Well, as they say, the rest is history.

  I want to take a moment to thank some people that have helped through this process.

  My parents for their ever love and patience as I worked through this story multiple times. Talking to them at great lengths about characters and plot points. To my stronger than life mother, Linda Woods, who helped motivate me when I did not feel motivated. To my father, Richard Woods, whose memory and spirit drive me to do and be better.

  Daniel Stevens, my husband, my best friend. Your constant jokes about getting this published, while annoying most of the time, provided enough laughter to get me through the rewriting and editing process. Thank you for willing to read my story in snippets. I am sure you are looking forward to reading the whole thing now.

  My beta readers for their feedback. No matter if, it was a whole plot point, or a misspelled word, thank you. My followers on Twitter & Tumblr for dealing with my early morning and late night ramblings on writing and sharing in my frustration and helping to point me in the ‘write’ direction.

  Moreover, thank YOU. Yes you. For reading and letting me into your heart to tell you this story. It has been a 15-year labor of love and I hope you are along for the ride. This is only the beginning.

 

 

 


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