She was the type to stare herself in the mirror and see someone else stare back. Someone who was free and light, being able to spread her wings like an unbound angel. She was neither chained to Heaven nor Hell. Howbeit, no matter how far she reached into the mirror, she could never step through as her ball-and-chain presented itself in the form of a crown. She was a princess with two faces, desperately trying to have a sense of freedom outside of her royal obligations. She found it in the form of a weakness: a passion with another human being. Her love for him and ballet had kept her chin high; her crown not slipping from her pastel hair. So why, why did it suddenly become so hard when a gothic gymnastic back-flipped into her life? Why were her heartstrings being tugged on by someone of her same gender? Why was it suddenly so difficult, so strenuous to keep living in her pastel world when this mysterious girl brought such bright colours with her? TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sex, suicide and other mature themes will be contained within this book. Read at your own discretion.

How do you show love has no limits? Short story written for the Every Day Movie contest.

In Elemental magic you can be one of four magic types; water, fire, earth, and air. The only problem is Violet is none of these things. Is she what they call a magic dud, or is she something rarer, more powerful, and more dangerous than anyone could have imagined!? Teasers, "Em, most girls sneak out for a boy, you sneak out for a unicorn." I began to cry as it reached for my face."No!" I screamed. "Please No!" I went to pull back the shower curtain, but some nagging thought in the back of my head stopped me. I didn't have a little brother, so why was there a little boy in my bathroom? I gulped and with shaking hands pulled back the shower curtain. "What!? How could that be!?" I yelled, and covered my hand with my mouth. Shouting wasn't such a good idea right at this moment. If someone heard us and came up here to investigate the noise we were making, they would find a boy and a girl, a bloody knife with both their finger prints on it, and a very very dead body. "Don't touch her!" he hissed and lunged at Henry. Running through the night wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital dress, while waving a dismembered hand in his hand, was a strangeness no regular person could hope to inspire to.