• Ashlyn hadn’t had the urge to write in some time, but the image of the boy was still fresh in her mind, and her fingers itched to write a description of him. She pulled out a piece of paper, scribbling in her spidery handwriting before the words could leave her.



    He stood staring at the full moon. His dark brown hair fell like liquid chocolate across his caramel eyes. His skin was a perfect golden tan, evidence of his hatred to remain dormant. He stood silently, his wiry, though developed, body remaining perfectly still, though it hummed with energy. He was delicious. Jesse watched on, fighting the urge to sink her fangs into his tender neck, to taste the hot sweetness rolling across her tongue. Her throat burned with the thirst, with desire, but she did not wish to harm this beautiful human. She had a fierce desire to protect him, even if only from herself. Suddenly the beauty of this boy, and the full moon that so captivated him was shattered by the distant, though ever close, keening of a predator. Something more dangerous than Jesse roamed these woods. She tensed, willing to defend this human, a pull that she had heard of but never before experienced in her half a millennia of life. She whirled, fangs protruding, on the large, unnatural wolf that would kill her human. She leaned forw-



    “Ashlyn, are you paying attention?” Ashlyn’s head snapped up, her eyes coming to focus on her English 3 teacher, Mrs. Copeland. With a slight toss of her rich mahogany hair, Ashlyn answered.
    “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Ashlyn’s voice was full of innocence, a tone that adults found very difficult to disbelieve. Move on, move on, Ashlyn implored silently, the urge to write was almost irresistible, and Ashlyn had no desire to lose the thread she was on if she could help it. Her teacher gave her one last severe look before turning her attention elsewhere. Ashlyn returned to the world that filled her mind.



    -ard, pouncing on the shifter, digging her fangs into the side of its neck, tackling the creature to the ground.


    Kristopher turned at the snarl behind him. Fear widened his sunshine-colored eyes as he stumbled backwards, running away from the terror behind him. His only thought was escaping those horrid creatures behind him. He ran for what felt like ages, his strong legs rippling with the impact of his weight. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, spurring him forward and giving him strength where he might have otherwise run out. He ran until even the adrenaline failed him, and he collapsed to his knees. He ran until his breath came in a wild gasp that burned his lungs and sent pangs through his rib cage. His hands shot out in front of him to break his fall. He remained in that position, gasping for air, for several minutes before he looked up to survey his surroundings. Terror gripped him once more as his eyes settled on the beauty that stood before him. She had ebony hair that was cut abruptly at her chin, fierce emerald eyes, moon-pale skin, and a more perfect body he had never seen. Her features were breathtaking, more perfect than even an angel. He recognized her instantly. She was the very same he had run from, standing before him as if it were perfectly logical for her to have been able to be there before him with all the calm of someone who had been waiting for a friend to arrive at a designated place. She moved towards him, causing him to scramble backwards in pure survival instinct.



    The bell rang then, startling Ashlyn out of Kristopher’s world, oh, how she wished it were hers. With, quick, jerky movements Ashlyn gathered her things together, moving towards the door with the same slow gait she always used, no matter her hurry.
    “Ashlyn? May I speak with you a moment?” Mrs. Copeland asked, ever polite.
    “Of course.” Ashlyn responded, like she had much of a choice. She moved towards the English teacher’s desk, ignoring the students of the next class that swarmed around her.
    “I’m worried about you, Ashlyn. You don’t seem yourself lately. Is everything all right?” Her teacher wore a concerned expression that sent a pang through Ashlyn; no one had ever bothered to feel concern for her.
    “Yes. Everything is fine.” She assured the older woman, resisting the strong desire to tell her the truth.
    The woman studied her for a moment longer, before nodding, accepting that. “Do you need me to write you a pass?” She asked then.
    Ashlyn shook her head.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ashlyn nodded, slipping out of the room.
    Thoughts of Kristopher stayed with her through the rest of the day, keeping her mind from her teachers, earning her many disapproving looks. No matter what she did, however, Ashlyn simply could not get him out of her head, a fictional character that had spawned from an image her mind had conjured. She didn’t understand it. It was ridiculous; her thoughts were preoccupied like that of a pre-teen with a crush. Never before had an imagined character distracted her so. Perhaps this was a story she would actually be able to complete. She hoped so. Despite her preoccupied thoughts, Ashlyn wasn’t able to sit down and write again until lunch, when she found herself alone.

    “Ssssh, I won’t hurt you.” The voice of the beauty before him was hypnotizing, and it took a moment before he regained enough sense to try and stumble away from her. She reached out, however, easily stopping him. She slid her elegant fingers around his upper arm and hauled him to his feet, wrapping her free arm around his waist, pulling him against her, into the intensity of her gaze. “I won’t hurt you, child. I will protect you, trust me.” He couldn’t distrust her, even if somewhere in the corner of his mind, he was compelled to. He nodded mutely. A grin brightened her expression, holding him in rapture. “Come along, I will take you somewhere safe.” The fear melted away completely, leaving nothing but awe for this beautiful woman who wanted to protect him. Her very presence was intoxicating.


    “Can I join you?” A distinctly masculine voice asked, shattering Ashlyn’s concentration. She glanced up impatiently to tell whomever it was to ******** off, and froze. Standing before her was Kristopher down the last detail. His eyes were precisely the same color, his body the same build, he was of the same height, and was exactly as Ashlyn had originally imagined him. Fear took a hold of her, she had never before seen this boy in the flesh, and yet she had described him exactly.
    “S-sure,” she answered shakily. She couldn’t even pretend she was imagining things with him so clearly before her.
    A slow smile slid over him as he slid into the seat in front of her. “My name’s Michael.” His voice was beautiful, musical, possessing seriousness almost unheard of in teenaged boys. Michael… his name was different. No, she must be imagining the exact likeness… Kristopher simply wasn’t real. He couldn’t be.
    She forced herself to clear her shocked expression, instead giving him a tight smile.
    “I’m Ashlyn.”
    “So I’ve been told. Why do you sit by your self?”
    “Maybe I want to.” She snapped before she could help herself. He arched an eye brow at her.
    “Maybe I’ll just leave you here then.” He said in response. He started to rise from her chair.
    “No!” She said perhaps a bit too forcefully. “I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” She added, changing her tone. He chuckled, sliding back into his seat.
    “Thought so.” Amazingly enough, his tone held amusement.
    Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her suddenly friendly manner abruptly disappearing; the usual distant one returning.
    “Yes, well, if you are quite done making fun of me, I would like to return to my writing, which you so kindly interrupted.” Without another glance at his face, she returned her eyes to her notebook.


    Suddenly the world vanished from around Kristopher. The dark forest disappeared from around him, replaced by –


    “What are you writing?” A growl nearly escaped her at the sound of his voice breaking her concentration.
    “Why does it matter to you?” She had no sooner finished her question, than he was snatching the notebook from her, and turning back a page to the start of her writing. Before she could stop him, he had begun to read.
    “Give it back.” Her voice was calm, the sort of calm she assumed when people were digging too far into her world, like her English teacher had been doing earlier that very day. He glanced up slightly in surprise at her tone. His expression turned mischievous, and he continued reading. She was watching him closely for any signs that he found her description of him strange. He didn’t seem surprised or bothered. He didn’t even seem to notice.


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    Faint surprise echoed through me as I read the humans writing. She had talent. Talent my sister would have been proud of. It didn’t take long at all to finish, and then I was calmly handing it back to her. She looked immensely relieved for some reason I couldn’t perceive. Perhaps she was shy, though; somehow, she didn’t strike me as shy, more as someone who was quietly confident.
    “You have talent.” I murmured, my thoughts returning to my sister. I glanced up at her lack of response, really looking at her for the first time.
    The bright, too bright for my taste, sunshine was shinning, bringing out the brilliant red tones in her beautiful, naturally curly hair. Her skin seemed, if it were possible, to glow in the bright sunlight, she was so pale. Her eyes were a very strange color, a color I was sure I had seen only once before, though I could not recall where. Her eyes were black, the shade usually found in African-Americans, or Mexican-Americans, but they weren’t solid black, laced through the black was blue, rich sapphire blue. Those beautiful eyes were framed in thick, dark eye lashes that made her look more exotic than ever. Her features were perfect; there was no other word I could use to describe them. They were perfectly even, her nose slopping just right for the size of her petite face, her cheek bones high, but gentle. Her jaw line was strong, but not severe, leading to a narrow chin that was just round enough. Just above that delicate chin; her lips perfectly proportioned. Her bottom lip was just pouty enough to be appealing, with an upper lip that was proportioned exactly right. Aside from her features, she was graced with a beautiful form. She was petite, not an inch over five foot three, with shapely legs that suggested she ran regularly, narrow hips flowing into a curvy, but without fat, upper torso that was headed by a chest hidden behind a thick black hoodie.
    “Are you done staring at me yet?” I glanced back up to her face, seeing her impatient, though slightly amused expression.
    “I’m sure you’re used to it anyway.” I answered, noticing our fellow students were heading back to class.
    “No…” She said with enough surprise and uncertainty that I was sure she wasn’t lying, despite my doubts that she could be oblivious to her appearance and its effect.
    “We should go to class.” I said, breaking the slightly awkward moment. She glanced around in surprise.
    “Oh, yes, I guess we should.” Looking as if she didn’t necessarily wish to leave, she gathered her things and slowly walked away, leaving me standing there.


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    Ashlyn was in a bit of a daze as she made her way to class. Had he really not noticed the similarity between Kristopher, and himself? Or did he merely think it a coincidence? Was she crazy…?
    Ashlyn passed the rest of her day just as distracted as she had been that morning, though for a different reason. No longer distracted by Kristopher, she was now preoccupied by Michael. It was a relief to finally get on the bus, and not have to pretend to be paying attention to her teachers. Luckily she managed to escape having a class with Michael.


    Cautiously, Ashlyn pushed open the front door to her house. She poked her head in, listening for active sounds of her father. She heard nothing for several minutes, and so she tip toed in, rushing quietly up the stairs and into her bedroom, and, hopefully, safety.