Revenge and Prom

This is another piece from Shadow Keeper. It was writtin around the same time as the first but is a later plot piece. I'm including it here to give you some detail about how I plan to make my main charater... but recently she has gooten some much needed attention and revisoin. (Thank you College Creative Writing class). Anyway... here it is.
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Today had been better than my week had been. I was being avoided by pretty much everyone. I was pleased with how news of my outing the night before had spread. Everyone had heard that ___ claimed I was in her room with a pack of ferocious wolves that tried to eat her… (HA! As if they would eat her!) Though no one really believed I was in her room. I mean she sleeps on the second story of her house, so me going in the window would be impossible, right?
Well anyway everyone was sure I hadn’t really been in her room but almost everyone believed I had some how caused her to hallucinate because she had insulted me. Then there were the select few who did believe that I had been in her room and that making eye contact with me would bring my deadly wrath upon them. I applaud their imagination.
So as I proceeded to my locker I was unusually happy. I had a half smile on my face because every time I got near somebody they would quickly put their head down and turn and walk as fast as they could in the opposite direction. I reached my locker and pulled my books from my bag as I spun the combo on my lock. As I pushed my books into place and took the things I would need in my next classes I noticed a piece of paper flutter to the ground. The paper was folded neatly into fourths and was strangely yellow and stiff. I picked it up and unfolded it with an anxious feeling turning in my stomach. The paper reminded me of the kind used by things or people involved in the shadow world.
The paper contained thirteen type-like words.
‘Cira, go to prom with me? Place your answer in locker number 735.’
No signature, no date, nothing to tell me who had placed it in my locker. Using my wolf senses I placed the paper close to my nose and immediately started to cough. Either a really preppy girl was playing a trick on me, which I doubted given how people felt about ___, or someone was hiding their sent on the paper. It smelled so strongly of flowered body spray that it clogged my nose, throat, and made my eyes water.
Regaining composure I looked back to the note, studying it from a safe distance. There was no way I would be able to tell who it was from unless I played along. I quickly dug for a pen and scribbled my answer.
‘Why would you want me? If you can give a good answer to that, then my answer will be yes.’
I passed locker 735 on my way to my next class and I forced the note through the small slits in the center of the door. The spring had left my step and a smile no longer pulled at my lips. I needed to know who was toying with me and what they knew about me.
My next two classes seemed to drag on forever and there was no hope of reaching my locker on the other side of campus to see if the note had returned. The bell to lunch rang and I was first out the door and sprinting down the halls and around corners. I reached the door to the old section of school and forced them open as fast as they would go and came face to chest with Mr.___. I looked up at him, frozen dead in my tracks like a deer in headlights.
His voice was deep and strong when he spoke. “Slow down young lady. I don’t want to see you in my office again for injuring someone. You need some good behavior points if I’m going to revoke part of your detention.” He winked at me and my muscles loosened. This guy genially seemed to like me. I nodded and tried to look as apologetic as I could, then hurried around him.
I wrenched my locker open to find the note laying on top of my books. I unfolded it as quickly as I could with out ripping it and let out a shocked breath.
******rest of day******
All of us had cleared our plates so I stood up from the dinner tabled and started to take plates into the kitchen. Mom followed and started to wash the dishes. I took the job of drying.
“Anything interesting happen at school today?”
“Well if you think getting asked to prom is interesting then…”
She cut me off. “Someone asked you to prom? Did you say yes?”
“Ya.”
She threw her arms around my neck, sending soapy water all over the kitchen. Drawing back and returning to the dishes she asked, “Who asked you?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part. I don’t really know who.”
Looking sideways at me, warning crept into Mom’s voice. “I’m happy for you, just be careful.”
I had to smile at her. “I will. Promise.”
******days*****
My locker swung open and I saw it. Another note. Not able to keep my hands from trembling I took the note and read the strange writing.
‘Have you picked out a dress yet? If so what color is it?’
Again thirteen words. As it so happened I had picked out a dress. ***dress description***
***days***
Prom night came. I was nervous, but not because of how my work may be involved, but about who was taking me. I guess I was feeling like a normal teenager would feel and that made me feel even more nervous. My hair was pulled up into a lose bun and random pieces were left out and curled in long ringlet chunks.
My dress was hanging against my closet door and I was rapped up in my robe. As I glanced over at the dress my vision tunnel and I felt as though I was being pulled away or as if I was suddenly looking through the wrong side of a telescope. But as quickly as my vision had changed it returned to normal and I was left feeling confused.
I quickly walked over to my dress and slipped it off the hanger. My robe fell to the floor and I quickly slipped the dress up. Zipping up the back, I quickly walked away from the closet door. My shoes were on the floor on the other side of my room so I walked over there and slid them over my feet. They had ribbon straps that tied tightly around my ankles.
I was done dressing so I walked out into the hall and looked down over the railing into the second floor. Dad was sitting on a barstool. He was leaning back with his elbows on the counter watching mom. Forehead creasing, he looked as though he was deep in thought about a column in the morning newspaper.
Mom was another story. Dad was sitting, calm and silent while mom was walking from one end of the kitchen to the other.

Shadowed One

This is a piece that was intended to be the beginging of a book, or series actually. It is going to be called. However, since I wrote this I have revised how to begin the piece. But I figured I should share with you the original plan.
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If you have picked up this book and decided to read it, I think there are a few things you should know before reading any farther. Most important is that this is a story about me. And, of course, Gabriel. Another thing before you read, I have to ask you something. Do you like your world the way it is?
Now before you answer think about the question. I don’t mean your home life or anything like that. I don’t even mean the ‘bigger picture’ of the world. What I’m asking about is the good that exists. Do you like the good in your world?
If you answered no to that last question, you’re the reason my life is the way it is and the reason that all this has happened. If you answered yes, well, your also the reason my life is the way it is and the reason that all this has happened. I guess you probably don’t understand that now, but you’ll understand soon enough. Maybe I should start at the begging. The begging of my part in all of this anyway.
I go to school like most all other kids, but I’ve never had any real friends. My family moves a lot, about once every year. I live with two great people I call my parents. They actually aren’t my parent, though, they just took me in. The funny thing is I kinda look like them.
Anyway, the guy I call my dad has this job that keep us on the move, so I don’t really stay in one place long enough to know anyone very well. That’s most likely for the best. There have been a few kids who have been nice to me and considered themselves my friends.
I don’t like to use that word lightly. Friend. It implies you trust and care about someone, neither of which I could ever let myself do. So there have been kids who feel they are my friend and I let them believe it. I don’t feel bad that none of them have ever kept-in-touch and I don’t feel bad that most places I go I’m treated like a social outcast. It’s not that hard to see why.
My eyes. Ya, you read that right, my eyes. See most people can say that there eyes are blue, brown, green, hazel, or maybe even grey, but how many can say gold? And not just light brown that sorta glows, really gold. If you’re trying to imagine what that looks like just picture a wolf’s eyes. You know, the eyes staring out of the darkness in some of the scary movies. Those are what my eyes look like exactly, right down to the slits for pupils.
That always made science class horrible, especially biology. While trying to study how the eye works or genetics, guess what always got brought up? That’s right, the freaky wolf eyes on the new girl. Everyone’s stairs would burn and my palms would get clammy. After the third school this happened at, I just learned to put up this wall. Nothing like that bothers me anymore. But that brings us back to the friend thing. Who wants to hang around someone that, every time you look at her, makes you think of something evil staring out of the darkness?
There is one guy I’ve known for a long time. Gabriel. His dad worked with mine, and they always got moved together. Now, you maybe thinking that we must have been good friends because were in the same situation, with schools, and we always seem to be at the same school. You’d be wrong.
We avoided each other as much as we could. That again would be my fault. Remember, I try to keep people distant. Gabriel tried being my friend one time, our freshman year. He was persistent enough to make me have to work to get him to leave me alone. One day, his efforts were enough to provoke me to say some mean things to him. That finally hit home. After that he stopped coming around and we started avoiding each other.
So I live the life of a lone wolf, so to speak. Sometimes I let my mind wander to what it would be like if everyone knew what my eyes really mean. You see, my eyes are the only thing that you can see that would even hint at what I really am. What am I?
I am the last Shadow Keeper.
Everything, everyone has a shadow. Have you ever wondered if every shadow in the world lives? Or if every shadow has some place it escapes to? Yes they do live, and, well that place they escape would be the shadow world.
Basically, the shadow world is what you probably would call a ‘parallel universe’. I call the shadow world a world that was created to contain what this world cannot. I call it the place bound by the ancient laws of shadows and ruled by the contract of ___.
You must be thinking that what the shadow world contains what this one can not is evil. Part of that would be right, but part of it completely wrong. Not all shadows are evil as most people would think.
Actually, most shadows want to preserve the way your of life.