Some pretty Art & Beneath Black Blood- Chapter 9

When I was 14 and I started writing Beneath Black Blood I had my best friend draw character designs for me because I was set on making it a Comic or Manga

 

 

 

When I was 14 and I started writing Beneath Black Blood I had my best friend draw some character designs for me because I was set on making it a Comic or Manga one day.

The one with blue hair is Cal Hyder, the one with red hair (inspired by MCR’s Gerard Way) is Ashley Barnett, and the one on the bottom left is Mex Cillian. In my imagination the design had a kind of Devil May Cry vibe going for it. I think now I would do the designs a bit differently but don’t you think my friends art is awesome.

Chapter 9- Innocent love

I told you once; I told you twice; I told you once again. You said you could; you said you would not do the thing again. I tell you no; I tell you, go! Don’t let it be in vain!

——-Dr Ernest Drake 1912—————–

Mex Cillian

Cal and I had only been travelling together for a couple of hours, but I could already tell what kind of guy he was, or maybe it was my suppressed memories telling me what I already knew. Either way, during the course of our journey I came to realise that he wasn’t as kind as he seemed. Sure he was a vibrant lively character, which seemed to just enjoy being there, yet he was calculating and cautious at the same time. Always wary of his surroundings. There was something icy underneath, like hard steel, a black cloth wrapped around his heart. Cal was like a sheathed sword, I was scared and aroused by him. I felt a latent curiosity for him in general. I wanted to investigate Cal as a person, even if I had known everything about him before, it was a different story now. I wanted, and he was the answer.

I smiled to myself and Cal raised his eyebrows inquisitively, something glimmered behind his pretty blue eyes, and it made my smile bigger. I was enjoying myself more than I could express. I wonder why?

“You should stop what you’re thinking right now!” Cal called to me,

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, but Cal just made a mysterious knowing smile, and I rolled my eyes at him, making him giggle. As soon as he turned his eyes away from me, I was boring holes in the back of his. I knew he could tell exactly what I was thinking. He was analysing every little detail. Sometimes he was generally pleased by seeing me, but other times those eyes were like ice.

“You should watch your step, what we’re walking on is really an abandoned town covered in sand, the ground can collapse at any second .” Cal called, he was already way ahead of me, at least 10 metres, and I’d been so caught up in my thoughts I forgot to pay attention to where I was going.  I stepped forward; confused by what he said, and suddenly the floor gave way.

It cracked beneath me, before I knew it I was falling into an empty black abyss. My stomach lurched. I instinctively reached out and flung my body towards the surface of the hole but I was only able to grab the crumbling edge. I couldn’t see but it strangely felt like I was holding on to glass, glass that was cutting deep into my fingers. I cried out, as I felt the glass like material go so deep that it nearly sawed my hand to the bone. I held on regardless, I had experienced more pain than this.

Even so, that didn’t matter to my body how much pain I had suffered before, my hands were turning numb, my senses dying, my grip failing me. I knew I only had seconds, so I began attempting to pull myself up, but the platform I was holding on to crumbled and I was thrown into the darkness of the hole. I began to despair, but then a hand was holding me around the waist, and in barely any time I was on the ground above. I breathed heavily; relieved to feel the rocky hard ground beneath me, glad to feel that scathing sunlight on my pale skin. I lay there crumpled, trying to catch my breath. Cal was attentively pulling tiny pieces of glass from my bleeding hands.

“Thank you.” I whispered, Cal looked up at me, his blue eyes were tearful.

“Don’t thank me.” He said, “I’m no good at all, I’m useless Mex, if I had been quicker than you wouldn’t have hurt your hands. What kind of friend am I?  It’s just like…like last time.”      

   Bright, big tears fell from his eyes, and his hands shook as he pulled the glass from mine. I looked at him. We must be good friends I thought. I wasn’t sure what ‘last time’ referred to but I knew he was sad because of me. He wasn’t my enemy, any prior suspicion I had of him faded away. I pulled my hand from his and lifted it to his face, so that he could watch it miraculously heal like all the rest of my wounds somehow did.

“That was nothing Cal, the only time you should be crying is if I die.” I smiled. “And that isn’t going to happen any day soon.” He grinned at me and we both ended up laughing, laughing at ourselves, laughing at each other.

“Oh Mex.” Cal chuckled, wiping the tears from his face. “You never change you’re still the same old Mex that I know.”

“Well I wouldn’t know about that. I wonder what I was like before.” I said, standing up, looking up at the sinking red sun on the horizon. “I think we should get out of here, the sun’s going down, and if being here in the sunlight is giving me the creeps then I’m terrified of what this place will be like in the dark.”

Cal nodded, in agreement and stood up. For a weird moment we just looked at each other, then before I knew it Cal had grabbed my hand and we were flying. Purple flames surrounded him and it was like I was in a different world, a world of flashing colours. His purple flames whirled around me and they didn’t feel hot or cold, they felt like emotions. They smelt sweet, yet looked bitter, tasted like fresh water, yet it burned. Somehow I understood these flames. In these flames reality was separate, I felt alive in his flames, and they weren’t unnatural or strange. It seemed appropriate, like a disparity in space, it seemed out of place. I found myself welcoming the flames embrace and in barely anytime I was enjoying myself. I closed my eyes.

Thank you for reading. Stay Tuned!!! 🙂

Author: Alexia

I am Alexia. I aspire to be a writer, a professional writer, an amazing writer, a writer to go down in history. Perhaps a writer so popular someone might make a religion or a cult following based on my works. I want to be like my heroes, such as Wilde, Goethe or Tolstoy who will forever be remembered as classics. Since I was small I enjoyed the feeling of putting pen to paper and the subtle sensation of my fingers floating across a keyboard. I’ve always been told that I have an active imagination and would find myself making up different realities and universes where characters I invented would go on surreal, dark and epic adventures. Since then I have always wanted to share my unique tales to the masses and shock people with heart-warming or thrilling literature.

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