The Preachers Daughter
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Every wonder what it's like to be a preacher daughter? Well its time for you to know. I'm Spencer Rae and this is my story of my life as a preachers daughter.
Some details may not be appropriate for young viewer's.
Hope y'all like it.
Leave any comments. please don't be rude though.
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Sinner [Completed]
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Twisted
"I think I'm gay." I say, leaving out the part about my... exposing dream about him last night. I watched his expression, waiting for some sign that he was angry. I waited for him to call me a faggot, to curse me off and tell me he never wanted to see me again. Instead, I was greeted with his perfect toothy smile. "That's great man, I'm of proud you." He says, patting my arm as he stuffed another cracker in his mouth. "It takes some real balls to come out to someone." He says, his beautiful green eyes blazing into mine. I felt myself become flustered at his gaze. "Uh, Yeah, Thanks." I stumbled out, "You're not mad?" I ask. His expression turns to hurt as he crinkles his eyebrows. "Why the hell would I be mad?" He asks, hesitating on the crackers and pushing them away. "I just thought-it's just- well... you just always seem so pissed when someone mentions the word gay." I spit out words, scared for his reaction. He sighs, "That doesn't fucking mean I hate gays. Normally when I do that it's because someone's using the word 'gay' to hate on them, it just pisses me off, you know?" He asks, bringing the crackers back into his lap and biting into them. "Plus-" He adds on, "You're my best friend, if anything, you being gay is a blessing. I'll always support you." He says, glancing at me through the side of his eyes. I look away, towards the door to hide the crimson blush that I feel spread over my face. "Thanks." I all but squeak out. And that's the day I realized, I have a faint crush on my best friend. <><><><><< THIS BOOK IS BEING *MAJORLY* EDITED. THERES LOTS OF SPELLING MISTAKES AND NAME MIX UPS, SOME CHAPTERS WILL BE REWRITTEN Also, Please don't be mean to the characters, they aren't even close to perfect, but they don't deserve hate.Abgeschlossene Geschichte
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Time didn't matter to her. She got up when the sun did and tried to sleep when the sun went down. because of this seemingly endlessness, she's forgotten her name, she's forgotten her family and she's forgotten everything she use to be. Now she was nothing. Living on the streets of a town begging for money and food from travellers that didn't know who she was, unlike the rest of the town that thought of her as something unnatural even though she doesn't know why. Constantly abused by the townspeople who don't understand her, she is left to die in an alleyway after a horrible run in with three drunk men. She was expecting to die and have her corpse eaten by rats and other vermin. What she didn't expect was to be saved by a woman that was everything but human. "Do you want to live?" This woman asked and when she looked into herself she knew the answer, it came easy through her busted lips. "Yes." From that day on she became something else, something not human, something extraordinary and from that day forth she will serve this woman who saved her life and maybe one day remember her name or be given one by her new Mistress. Maybe one day she'll remember who she was and maybe she'll even find the one person that completes her soul. From that day forth she became a Nightwalker. Completed. This is a lesbian story and contains mature actions between females. There will be warnings at the beginning of the chapter if you do not wish to read such content.Abgeschlossene Geschichte
The Bad boy's Prayer
**2ND PLACE IN THE WATTY'S OSCAR AWARDS ** "DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE !? " I yelled in her face making her coward back in fear , just how I like them. "I really am sorry Logan ..." "NOT ENOUGH. IF YOU THINK I'VE MADE YOUR LIFE HELL BEFORE, JUST YOU WAIT !" And with that , I grabbed my bag, leaving her in her pile of misery. If she thought I was going to stay after that little performance of her , she had another thing coming. "Logan please! Don't do this . I promised your mom I would help you . Even if it means I have to sit through your insults " she said , yanking me back by my backpack. I was beyond peeved at her right now. "Who do you think you ARE little 'I'm a church girl ' !? Who gives you the RIGHT TO JUST YANK ON ME ! INCASE I HAVEN'T MADE IT CLEAR YET ; LET ME MAKE IT CLEARER. " I looked her straight in the face and jabbed my finger " DONT. YOU . DARE. TOUCH. ME. AGAIN! " As I pulled back her eyes started to gloss over , making her stumble backwards and hit the wall behind her. Pathetic. **** Logan Delgada was your typical , stereotypical super popular , rich jocks that thinks the world revolved around him. The type of guy that walks around with the attitude that 'the party doesn't start until he gets there ' . Like he's a gift to the world. Amaya Parker is a preacher's daughter. The youth leader at their church. She hides away in big crowds and does everything in her will power to keep everyone around her happy. He's rude. She's thoughtful. He swears . She's won the spelling bee. So what happens when a simple prayer makes these two worlds collide ? *started 28 February 2019 * *finished 22 January 2020* *edited 28 January 2020*Abgeschlossene Geschichte
The Preacher's Girl
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Laid upon the pages of this book is a story. This is an autobiography. I struggled with writing this and, as you will soon understand, though I knew how to write it, writing it and thinking about it was difficult. I have not labeled the chapters in hopes that you will read all the way through. You may understand me a little more if you do so, but, on the same note, you may end up hating me. I do not know what your reaction will be, but I will allow your opinion of me. I give you full permission to judge me, only when you read everything. This is on my struggles with mental illness, traumatic events, my opinions, my thoughts, my feelings; this is a tour of my mind. Be warned, it's dark and haunted. But I felt it important for me to write this, so maybe I can overcome it. Thank you for picking this text to enlighten you. I am not the smartest, nor am I the wisest, but I will do my best to paint a delicate image in your mind by how I string together my semblant words.
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