“If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” - Toni Morrison

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

A Thief in Storybrooke - 3

A sudden buzzing sounded in the car, and Emma looked towards the bug receiver clipped on her dashboard with a look of surprise. When she had discovered that old abandoned shed in the wood, she had decided to plant a bug there because it seemed a good place for any criminal activity to happen; however, she had thought it was a lame idea at the time.  Now somebody was there - perhaps it was Gold! Feeling like it was her lucky day, Emma made a U-turn, not caring if anyone was watching or not, and sped back in the opposite direction. She pressed a button on the bug to turn the sound on.

There was a strange noise that sounded like something heavy being dragged along a floor, and then there was a noise as if whatever - or whoever - had been dragged was dumped somewhere in a corner. Then a ripping noise that reminded Emma distinctly of the times when Luke and Adam, two bratty boys she had had to live with in one of many of the foster homes she had stayed in, had pulled duck tape from each other's mouths in unison. They had thought it funny, but this noise sent a chill down Emma's spine, especially with the moan that came along with the ripping noise. So there was a prisoner in the abandoned shed!

Emma accelerated as much as she dared.

"Please," a low male voice begged over the receiver. "I can explain."

Emma furrowed her brow. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She felt frustrated with herself. Shouldn't she know all the voices by now in a puny town? This wasn't the city, for God's sake!

A scraping of a chair being dragged across a floor.

"Well," came the chilling voice of a person that Emma all too well recognized. "Well, that is just...fascinating."


Monday, October 14, 2013

A Thief in Storybrooke - 2

I'm trying to add in some backstory in here, and I'm probably going to fail at doing it properly. So bear with me, please.

Contrary to what Emma thought, Mr. Gold didn't even realize that he was being followed. The changing of streets to throw anyone off his trail was second nature to him, which was probably a good thing because his emotions were running too high to be able to be paying much attention to what he was doing. The prime emotion was an intense hate that coursed through his entire body.

The "borrowed" van (he was going to return it tomorrow, of course - provided that the owner was still alive) jolted as it passed over one of those nasty potholes in the road. Usually, Mr. Gold would grimace and turn his angry thoughts towards Regina, the mayor of Storybrooke. However, this sharp movement fueled the burning fire in his head. He hoped that the prisoner in the back of the van was getting bruised.

Gold could never forget what the so-called Moe French had done to her. How he had caused her death. How that beautiful blue-eyed girl would be living right now if only that bastard-of-a-father hadn't shunned her. Of course, French didn't even know he had a daughter. He didn't remember his past. Neither did all of the people living in this town - except for Regina and himself, being granted this special right by the latter. But that wasn't the point now. That didn't matter, only what he was going to do to Moe French once he reached their destination.

His mind wandered to another world, one in which he had a lot of power - even more than he did now. The reason that was because he had magic then. He was the Dark One, and the kings of all the lands surrounding the Enchanted Forest would beg him for help. Of course, that meant that he would only help if he would get something in return. He would let them grovel a bit, and then he would strike up one of his marvellous deals - one that would really only benefit him, and cause only grief for the other party.

The whole thing started when King Maurice had sent an urgent summons to him, begging for help against strong invaders. The Mr. Gold of that world (but that was not his name there) had rubbed his hands in delight. He already knew what he was going to ask in return - he had heard of the beauty of King Maurice's daughter, Belle. His excuse? He had needed a housekeeper for some time, and Belle seemed the perfect fit.

In the end, King Maurice had to give in when Belle agreed to go in order to save her family and friends. Very courageous was what King Maurice's people probably thought of the girl. Very silly, he thought of it.

Then things changed around the Dark Castle. Belle was averse to his treatments of prisoners and those who stole his things. The problem was, he found his heart warming to this beautiful girl who reminded him of the days back when he was like any other man, and had a sense of morality. And then the day came when Belle tried to show him that she loved him. But he refused it, for that would get rid of his power. Belle left, and tidings had come to him that Maurice had shunned his daughter's presence for having agreed to go with such a beast, and that Belle had died because of this.

He was cruel to her, Regina almost laughed when she told him the news. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died.

You're lying, he said calmly, but inside, he knew it was true, and any of the love that Belle had placed there was starting to die again.

Am I?

Sunday, October 13, 2013

A Thief in Storybrooke

This is a fanfiction, but I hope those of you who haven't watched/read the story won't treat it like one, and get immersed in it. This is a first draft. Please comment, as it helps me a lot. Thanks. :)

Emma Swann, sheriff of Storybrooke, was on the trail of an elusive criminal. Or at least, that's what her guts were telling her. Of course, it was a very serious thing to suspect the owner of a town of foul play. And even though Mr. Gold had been the victim of a robbery just this afternoon, she still had a suspicion deep down that there wasn't something quite right about this whole business. When she had recovered the stolen articles and shown them to him in the afternoon, he wasn't appreciative of her effort it all. In fact, he had stated that the stolen items weren't all there and had acted as if the missing thing or things were more precious than all of the valuables put together. Even stranger was his reaction to her promise that she would find who the believed thief was, Moe French, a flower seller.

"Yeah, if I don't get to him first."

Not exactly something an innocent person would say.

Those words chilled her now. And that is why she was trailing French's Flower's van right now. The driver? Mr. Gold himself.

The problem was, Emma was pretty sure that Mr. Gold had caught on to her. He was beginning to take different turns as if an attempt to catch her off her guard. And it wasn't like Emma was stalking him in an obvious way. Her training had made her elusive and cunning. But the thing was, Mr. Gold was cunning, too - perhaps more clever than herself. Emma had never met anyone who was her match until now.

"Dang it!" Emma cursed under her breath. The lights changed red, but not before the van sped through them. It would be foolish to try following now, as that would make Gold even more suspicious. No, she would have to wait and pray to God that she hadn't lost him.

It seemed years before the lights finally changed and Emma was able to move again. Just like she had suspected, Gold was gone. Now it was up to her cleverness and a lucky chance to find him again.

Emma glanced down the left and right roads before speeding ahead towards a wooded area on the edge of town.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


After that long break from writing from the beginning of Grade 12 till now, I feel almost dry. Writing doesn't come as naturally to me anymore. I have to force myself to actually write. I feel as if a big part of me is missing. So bear with me. 

I have a request for you. I'm going to try writing again, but I need help. Can I get some critiques, advice, and comments? I need help to get back on this road again. And if any of you have any writing prompts to throw at me, I'd really appreciate that, too.

Let's get this thing started.