Many short stories I've written this month and thought of sharing.
The stories are around the Avengers' characters and my OCs. They vary from fluff to drama, to heartwarming, to heartbreaking. I will have at least one "happy" story and one "sad" for...
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Books are amazing. They take you places you have never been before, places you wish to go, places that don't exist yet, places that feel like home. I am very passionate about books. I do not care about genre or what other people may say about the book. If it speaks to me, I read it. Plain and simple. I adore the smell of a new book, the texture of the pages on my fingers, and the cover. The cover is the least important part. The summary on the back, on the other hand, speaks volumes about the author.
A cover is the very first thing you see. It has to catch your attention, one way or the other, and sadly, most of the time, the author does not have a say on what the cover design will be. So, you truly can not judge a book by its cover. Since most of the time, it does not reflect the Author's work.
I love everything about books. Honestly, I prefer books over people a lot more. I am yet to find someone interesting enough to make me put away the book I am reading. Usually, I stay in the public library after work, just going through every section they have. At this point, my library card is more important than my Driver's License.
"Hello again, dear!" The old librarian on the counter greeted me.
"Hello, Mrs. Buckheart!"
"What is it going to be this time? Mystery? Drama? Crime?"
"Actually, I am going to shake things up for once. I will take a look at the Romance section today." I walk past the elderly woman and walk to the section saying: Romance/Erotica.
As I trail every cover on that shelf with my fingers, one book, in particular, stands out to me: The snow child by Eowyn Ivey. The hardcover suggested that the book was expensive. The beautiful albeit simple designs drew my attention. I opened the book and allowed it to take me to whatever land it desired me to go. The more I read, the more captivated I became by it.
To my irritation, another human decided to walk into that corridor. The male halted mid-step and changed his path, now walking towards me. I let a sigh of vexation leave my lips.
"If you are looking for a happy ending, I humbly suggest you look for another book." The unknown male spoke from behind me.
"And I will kindly suggest you take your alpha male self and fuck off."
My concentration never left the words of that beautiful book.
"No need for such foul language, love. It was only a suggestion."
His derogatory tone irked something inside me. I was sure that that disgusting excuse for a man had a stupid smirk on his face. That knowledge only made my eyebrows twitch.
"Oh yes! Because I am in desperate need of your small-minded male opinion."
"Let us be honest, love. If you just allowed that strong-minded brain of yours to listen to me, you would agree. So, why don't you turn around, close that pretty little witty mouth of yours, look at me like a respectful human being, and let us have a proper smart conversation?"
This little- How dare he! At this point, my mind could only process the many curses I desire to call this nitwit. The anger that fueled me did not allow me to read the book any further. As I turned around, red in the face, my brain only had the time to process the words before they left my lips.
"I think... no, I am positive... that you are the most unattractive man I have ever met in my entire life. In the short time, we've been together, you have demonstrated every loathsome characteristic of the male personality and even discovered a few new ones. You are physically repulsive, intellectually retarded, you're morally reprehensible, vulgar, insensitive, selfish, stupid, you have no taste, a lousy sense of humor, and you smell. You're not even interesting enough to make me sick!"
"Are you quoting Alexandra Medford from The Witches of Eastwick? Is that what your brain resorts to when you are angered?" He rose one eyebrow at me as an amused smirk graced his handsome pale face.
"You are lucky I do not feel like going to prison for manslaughter right now."
I turned my back to the tall, raw-boned man. Walking down the aisle again, I began looking for more books to take home.
"You cannot write manslaughter without laughter." His light footsteps, trailing behind me, could be heard.
Halting in my actions, I try to find reason in the gibberish that had just left the man's mouth.
"There is a phrase I read once: It is better to be silent and thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt. I advise you to be quiet from now on."
"Oh, I love pretty little things with sharp tongues." His eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Then go find a snake. And Kol Mikelson? Really? That is the best you got? Pathetic."
"I got your attention, did I not?"
As the realization slowly dawned on me, my anger diminished, and soon enough, the only thing left was curiosity. This man was the first person to grasp my attention better than a book. Even if it was through aggravating me, he accomplished to be more fascinating than my books.
"Indeed, you did."
We both stood in the middle of this romance books corridor, silently looking at each other with interest, novelty, and desire. The desire to unravel this appeal we had for each other.
"Perhaps now, love, I may have your name?"
"Mazikeen, Mazikeen Owain."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Just so you all know, I didn't give any spoilers on the book The snow child by Eowyn Ivey, because it doesn't necessarily have a "sad" ending I suggest you read it.
