Whimsy 6.12.13





Welcome to Whimsical Writer's Wonderful WIP Wednesday!
WHIMSY for short.



STATUS:
project: BREAKING ANGELINA
word count: 16K
percentage: 77% complete
goal this week: 5K

I didn't get as much done this week as I wanted. Last Wednesday I was all fired up to finish the story, and instead, I only got through one scene. Only FOUR MORE SCENES to go!



EXCERPT:

In this scene, Angelina meets a talking black cat in a bookstore who changes into a witch...



Black Cats and Full Moons by JessKat-art



I rummage through the books on one of the tables. A little leather-bound one and on the bottom says On Matters of Love across the front.

Yesssss, a love potion. The voices in my head purr.

He deserves to see me for who I really am.

You desssserve a chance.

Maybe if he just had the chance to see me without my sister in the way. He could get to know me and love me for real.

You dessserve this.

I deserve this. I’ve been thoughtful and helpful. I’m beautiful and kind. I brought him homemade cookies at Christmas— baked them myself. I talked to him about the cars he’s been fixing up even though I hate cars.

“How much is this one?”

The old lady glances at the book in my hand and, shaking her head disapprovingly, scowls at me. “Bah, love potions—disgusting little abominations. They take away the targets free will and replace it with such a pitiful emotion.” Huk huuuk pluth. She spits a disgusting green glob at my feet and splatters my new Candies. “I won’t make them. Besides, you have to get the blood of a siren or a succubus or certain types of fairies. Drain every last drop of blood. You are too prissy to put a simple little curse on your sister. You can’t handle this potion.”

“Drain the blood? Won’t that kill it?”

“I suppose so.”

“Wait a minute, sirens aren’t real. They don’t exist.”

“Then neither do love potions, and I’m not a witch. Now out of my shop.”

She studies me as if she could see the bones under my skin, the voices squirming inside my head, and I look away to hide from her piercing gaze.

Sirens are monsterssss.

I can’t do it.

They lure they’re prey with song.

I’m a good girl.

Then drown their victimsss.

Maybe.

You’d be doing the world a favor.

“Then what do I do?” I ask.

She throws her hands up in the air. “What do I care what you do next? Mix it into his beer or put it in his coffee. I’ve known some who put it in the frosting of a cake. Up to you.”
   

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~



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