Chocolate Cake

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The

World                  

of                         

Witches

      By: Angelina Moffett

                      

    Copy Right Policy is in effect. If

this novel is in anyway shape or 

form plagiaized, all accountable

actions and punishments will be

permitted

                  CHAPTER 1

                                                            

    The blood was everywhere. The police will be here soon, and so will foster care. I won’t be taken in by some random stranger. I have to escape somehow, but where to? I’m only eight. How am I supposed to know what to do to escape from the world?

    I stared back at their headless bodies. How is this even possible? I didn’t even touch them and now they’re just…..dead. I’m scared…I don’t know what to do, where to go, or even how I’m going to explain this. Tears rolled from my silver eyes.

    “Maven….,” I said while weeping over my fourteen-year-old brother’s body, “I’m so sorry….I didn’t mean to kill you….any of you. Please come back to me….please…”

    I woke up to a very loud alarm. I have the same dream almost every day now. Even after ten years it still gets to me. I’m not surprised though; I did watch my family die right in front of me in a very brutal way. I still don’t understand what happened, and maybe I never will.

    I rolled out of bed in a very lazy manner, and headed downstairs, following the scent of bacon. That’s a nice smell to wake up to. My roommate Ria had to have done something wrong last night to be making breakfast. I get the feeling I should eat the food first.

     When I walked into the large kitchen, I saw Ria in an apron. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun as usual, and she wore shorts and a lace shirt underneath the apron. She looked unusually nice….

     “Look don’t tell me what you did until after breakfast, ok?”  I said while yawning as I grabbed a seat at the table.

    “Ok I knew you had a bad memory, but I didn’t know it was this bad,” she said in a giggled tone and walked over to me to give me my plate, “it’s your birthday silly.”

     On the pancakes she personally wrote out “Happy 19th birthday Claire”. To make things worse she wrote it in whipped cream. She knew I hated the stuff, but I guess I wasn’t the only one suffering from short-term memory loss.

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