So I haven't really posted any stories in a while (le cri). This is because I haven't finished any of my stories because I have no clue how to develop them (or start them for some of them). So I will be posting random ones that technically you have picked. So basically, choose a title and I'll post what I have written for it. If you like the story, help me out with writing it and you may see the completed story on here! LE STORIES Bladed Queens Crystalline Girls Demon Slayer Evelyn McCall School Days Renegade (ohwaitdon'tpickthisit'scomingoutsoonaye) Stallican Empire Starem T̶h̶e̶ ̶D̶a̶r̶k̶ ̶W̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ The Life of Me This Generation of Ours Untitled (it's called untitled because it doesn't have a title) Where The Lonely Ones Roam Still unsure? Just type one of the titles in and I'll do the rest.
Okay basically this story is about an assassin, I had initially only written 3/4 of the chapter so I finished it right now. Chapter One A Death in the Night The cold air bit at my skin. I watched my breath dance in front of me. Ignoring the chill, I walked on. I readjusted my small bag and checked my blades. Twin knives were strapped to my thighs, on the small of my back was a small hidden knife. Death was waiting, so I came prepared. Walking on, I memorised my route. An escape route may be necessary. Eventually, I found the house. Looming over me was the house of Lord Whittle. A strange man who earned a grand title for a strange reason. I had no interest in his past, but my client insisted on telling me this. The client expected me to crawl away at the sound of the name. No title will shy me away from my money. Scanning the house, I saw a lone candle. It flickered wildly in the darkness. Accompanying the candle was a shadowy figure. The figure was hunched over, scribbling with a quill. The rest of the house looked empty. I walked to the front door; no one was in sight as I worked on unlocking it. The door swung open when it finally clicked. Stepping inside, I realised how rich this man was. Above me hung a crystal chandelier. The candles hung snuffed out, but the moonlight led me to my target. My steps were quiet against the oak floors. I saw a door ajar, and the lone candle greeted me once again. I stood next to the door listening to the muttering of Whittle. 'No, no, no!' he muttered out loud, 'Richard must be out of his mind!' I was slightly intrigued with his mutterings. Maybe he held information within his peculiarity. But that wasn't why I was here. I was here to kill Lord Whittle. My twin blades slid into my hands. I stepped into the room, kicking Whittle out of his chair. Immediately, he clattered to the floor, spilling ink over the parchment. He yelped in fear as he fell ungracefully. Before he could react my knives rested on his throat. 'Say your last prayers.' I announced to his cowering body. 'P-please! L-let... let me go!' He whimpered, 'I-I can give you money! Lots of it!' Ignoring his pleas, I slit his throat. His eyes went wide, but he did not call out. I stood up, wiping the blade with a cloth in my bag. My eyes skimmed over the parchments lying on the table. Whittle, this is urgent. With your help, we can take down those fools! They have plans to take away our power! Your home, gone! Your servants, gone! Your money! Your reputation! All gone! Listen to me. Barney Greene is up to no good! Before he acts, we could stop him! Please answer as soon as possible. Your friend, Sir Richard Danvers The other parchment was soaked in ink from where Whittle fell. I guessed it was Whittle's reply. Danvers was another titled crony with more money than he needs. Thinking about this, I ventured the house in search of extra coins. Whittle's pockets had laid empty, but a room did not. It looked like a treasury, with coins stacked up high. I slid two stacks into my bag. I left the room to check anything else in the study where Whittle lay when a voice boomed, 'I see you've done your job. I never expected a woman of your type to complete a task like this.' I turned to see my client. His face was hidden by the darkness, but I knew it was him. Crossing my arms and giving him a cold look, I answered back, 'Woman of my type? I didn't realise you hired me and expected me to fail.' He scoffed, poking Whittle's dead body, expecting him to spring up. When Whittle stayed motionless, I say a flash of white as he smiled in the moonlight. I crossed my arms, staring up at the large man. He turned away, facing the window. 'I wasn't expecting you to fail; I hoped you'd fail.' My heart thumped loudly, finally working out what was going on. I gritted my teeth, fists clenched. 'This is a trap?!' He scoffed again, facing me. He peered into the darkness where two men twice the size of me appeared. He began to leave the room, brushing past me. 'I believe I can leave this to you, gentlemen,' my client said to the men, then he looked at me one last time, 'Goodnight little assassin, you could have been a beautiful wife.' With that he left, his footsteps echoing through the house. My hands were clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. The two 'gentlemen' cracked their knuckles, readying to attack. I stood my ground, realising my anger would not help me. I discreetly pulled out my knives, waiting for my attackers to strike. ~End Chapter~ Okay basically, this story is about an assassin who after getting away from her client's mercenaries, he then claims she is a witch. This is why the story is called The Dark Witch.
