Story cover for The Night Of The Witch by Nerds_are_awesome
The Night Of The Witch
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  • WpPart
    Parts 6
  • WpHistory
    Time 21m
Ongoing, First published Aug 05, 2014
Most Teenagers have to worry about pimples or braces or what clothes should you wear today. My problems are a bit bigger than those. My name is Dakota Hollwell and I'm 16 years old. Plus, I'm a witch! Well, I prefer the term, "Magically enhanced". My powers have gotten a little too much to handle. My boyfriend doesn't know what I can do. And, I still can't  parallel park. 


It had happened in the middle of gym class. We were climbing up a rope when a I slipped and slid down the five feet I'd just climbed and landed on my ass. My head was really hurting and the coach sent me to the Nurse. I had an fever of 101.2°f. The nurse gave me some headache medicine and sent me home. I told my mom what happened, and then went upstairs to change into pajamas. I was just taking off my shirt when I heared a gasp. My mom was staring at my back.

"What?" I ask her. She shook her head.

"Your tattoos." She mumbled.

"Mom, I don't have tattoos." I say. 

"There's something I should tell you." She says. She pulls me in front of the mirror and lifs my shirt again. On my back is a black flame. It goes up my back, all the way up my neck and around my hips.

"That wasn't there this morring." I say.

"No. Sit down." My mom points to the bed. I sit on my bed and my mom kneels infront of me. "Sweetie, I was starting to worry that this would never happen. You got your powers. You are a whitch."


That's just the begining.
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Book 4 of The Awakening Series The Malicious Vampire King. My Paramour. Marcellus Throne, the now infamous Malicious Vampire King, has been promised to me since the day he took his first breath. Even before then, our fates were written in the marrow of creation. My first vision, the one that burned itself into my memory before I even understood what I was, was of him. It has always been him. His face. His power. His darkness. Until the night he slept with my sister. That single act shattered every prophecy, every divine whisper, every foolish belief I had in fate. The bond that was supposed to unite empires instead became a curse waiting to be cast. And now, centuries later, the bastard decides to host a mockery of love, a televised "quest for his beloved" as if our story were nothing but royal entertainment. So I came to his kingdom, ready to remind him that destiny is not a joke, and neither am I. Ready to curse him for every ounce of arrogance that dripped from his name. Only for him to turn around, before the entire world, and declare that I am his fated beloved and he's right! He's fatally fucked! Ha.