The Creators: Book One

Chapter One: The Life Giver

Authors note: there's a chance you've seen this book before if you frequent certain sites. I am White Walls a.k.a E.L Whitewall, and I do write on sexstories and literotica. The reason I'm publishing it here now after all these years is because I'm finally done with the series, and didn't want to post it anywhere else until it was finished. So no, this is not plagiarism, as it is impossible to plagiarize my own work. The only reason I'm writing this note is because I've been accused of plagiarism when posting past works on new sites before. I have actually seen this story posted on this site before, so if you see any versions other than this one posted, please report them. Or don't, it's up to you. 

Sorry about that. 

Anyway, please enjoy this long and debauched story I have woven for you. 

Chapter One

The Life Giver

BRANDON

My twin sister is dead, but she's not gone. Death is a tragedy in the village of Towerhead, but it's not a rarity. Farming accidents, disease, famine, natural disasters, you name it, it kills people in Towerhead. So eight years ago, when the oxen-pulled carriage ran my sister into the dirt, it was a tragedy, but it wasn't an anomaly. I had seen this play before; the townspeople rushing to the accident, the driver sitting in shock, the wails and screams of the bereaved, and the solemn procession that followed. My mother and father were devastated, my classmates were consoling and understanding, but I just stood there like an asshole pointing to the translucent figure to my left.

"Uh, guys?" I said. "She's right here."

At first, people thought it was just my coping mechanism. Hell, I thought that must be the case, but Angela never went away. She talked to me, and I tried to ignore her. She didn't like being ignored, so she started screaming at me. When I finally relented with an exacerbated, "WHAT?!" her only response was to smile brightly and say, "whew, I thought I was talking to myself this whole time. I was worried people would think I was going crazy!" And that's when people thought I was going crazy. I agreed with them, of course; obviously, I was going insane. I tried meditating, religious counseling, and even old pagan rituals, but nothing made her go away. Then Angela started feeding me test answers in school, and telling me where to pan for gold in the river, and showing me where the game was when I was hunting. The apparition's proclamations were so accurate that I could no longer deny her existence. Angela was dead, but she wasn't gone.

After my parents tried an exorcism to relieve me of the 'demon that plagued my soul,' I stopped trying to prove to people that Angela was real. Towerhead is a lovely town, but it is a small town, fifty miles removed from civilization. Magic is looked down upon, and any anomaly that can't be explained in ten words or less is either 'god's blessing,' or 'the devil's work,' depending on the general mood, and 'the devil's work' was usually solved with pitchforks and pyres. So I kept Angela to myself, but as I grew older, her constant presence in my life started to present new and interesting problems. You see, Angela never left me. I mean never, and as an eighteen-year-old boy, privacy was a concern of mine.

"OK Angela," I hissed at her as I sat upright on my bed, "we need to talk about boundaries."

"I was just curious to see what you were doing," she said with a big-eyed look of innocence. "It looked like you were wrestling with a squirrel under the sheets."

"Mm-hmm," I said frankly, "a squirrel."

"A really big squirrel," she smiled impishly. "The kind of squirrel all the women of the town would just love to see."

"Angela, get the fuck out of my room."

"Oh, my mistake," she giggled, "looks like it's a chipmunk. Not a very impressive one either. Kind of sickly looking, and diseased, and limp—"