ORIGINALLY WRITTEN BY: Tiye Samone
CREATORS WORKING ON THIS PROJECT: Tiye Samone and Ayiana Maria
LIGHT REIGN CHAPTER DRAFT
THE FOLLOWING IS A CHAPTER DRAFT IN THE STORY. THE FULL STORYLINE, OVERALL MESSAGE AND THEMES ARE STILL BEING EXPLORED AND DEVELOPED.
YOU CAN READ MORE ON VOCAL OR PATREON.
“Reign. . .” softly whispered a voice. The sound of the voice echoed through the breeze caressing Reign’s face as she sat on the shore of her home island. Reign tossed her head back and gazed at the stars above in awe, while a single tear slipped down her cheek. She felt a slight chill graze her shoulder --startled, she jumped at the scare. Her big brown eyes peeped through the coils of her curly hair, and over her left shoulder to check for anything unusual. Nothing new, besides the view of the town a short walk away. She heaved a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to the stars and the freshness of the outdoor air. The sound of the crashing waves soothed her aching heart. Her grandmother had just passed away, and Reign ran to the beach after school to escape her parents. They were not dealing with the loss well.
The wind blew again —this time it knocked her backpack over, scattering her schoolbooks, papers, and pencils. She heard the voice again, but it was firmer ... and louder, ‘Write.’ Reign snapped her head in all directions searching for the source of the voice she was hearing. She quickly reached to gather her things and run, but a small tattered black book caught her attention. The book did not belong to her, but it appeared to be lodged with her things.
A small gasp shaped from her lips. Where did this book come from? What was it? She slowly reached for the book anxiously anticipating to hear the voice command her again, but all she heard, was the sound of crickets and island festivities in the distance. She put her things away and sat back down to open the mystery book. ‘What should I write?’, she thought. When she opened the book, all of the pages were blank, seemed untouched, and smelled of sweet coconut rice.
Dark clouds formed overhead while the air around her chilled her soul. She felt a mystical wave surge through the book and ignite her pencil —visions of strife in her life flooded her mind. She saw flashes of her mother weeping over a desk littered with past due bills; her father grieving over the empty crib of her older brother; her grandmother’s casket; and even bullies circling her in the school yard. Reign shook her head violently, blinked back her tears from forming, and pinched herself to wake herself from the unexpected intrusive nightmares. The pinch, sent her into another vision:
Part 1 | Stormy Tears
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