There is a Shadow… (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

My ma had a sayin’. One that I only know cause she kept in her diaries and crap.

“There’s always one thing yer gonna wanna give up everything for.

There’s gonna be that one thing… that one somethin’ that makes ya forget why ya even have power, or why ya wanted it in the first place…”

I’ve had power since the day my daddy came callin’ in the middle of the night and I learned what humans really were. Pieces of goddamn garbage. They all pretended to be these normal, upstandin’ people but deep down I can see what they are. I can see my daddy in every one of those pityin’ stares — those “you poor thing”. I had power to never have to be the small one. Never have to be the one lookin’ up. I could rip the heart out of anybody who stepped to me and they was all afraid of me in a way that I loved, fed off of. I had power over them and I had power over their lives…

I could eat them all alive!

But then… she crashed near my haunt.

She bled out on my hands…

She was so small…heh…

And in a single goddamn moment… I gave her power over me

Exactly what he wanted…

That fucker knew I’d be drawn to her. Knew I’d feel it… knew I’d come…

She was so small…

Yet, she was bigger than me

I could feel it, fuckin’ smell it on her… smell him on her…

Yet I ain’t hesitate. Even though I felt that bastard pullin’ me apart even before I lifted her out of all that chaos, I ain’t hesitate for a minute. Cause I knew what she was… what she was gone be…

But, she was just so damn small.

Weak…. Stupid… Green. Ain’t know shit about shit!

But I couldn’t get close to her. They made sure of that. They kept her locked up, kept her outta sight and then had her in that house for weeks before I couldn’t even see her. I watched her though. Kept up and waited for her to feel what I felt in her.

And she did… Oh she felt it… and it killed.

She was ready to play the game.

Ready to play to win…

Ready to play with me…

Out of all the garbage in Calista. All those fake ass smiles and laughter and “community” where they clap ya on the back for drunkenly attackin’ somebody and say “its okay, we’re family.” In this itty-bitty pissant town… she shined so bright. She was like this bonfire that everybody was starin’ at but wouldn’t get close. But I’m gonna… I’m gonna get close, I’m gonna feel that heat threatenin’ to turn into a wildfire, and I’m gonna watch Calista and that quack all burn!

I’ll be her shadow while she turns everything to ash..

And I won’t stop until she helps me get back what he took from me…

Until she understands that the one with the power is her…


Cause she’s different than the rest of ’em.

Cause its only fair….

I saved her life…

The least she could do is play the game with me…

Accept the power I’m givin’ her…

Play… and win…

Burn it all down…

“I can’t be like that. I don’t know how to be like that…”

‘Course ya do, Ayida…

We’re monsters, ya know. It’s what we do.

–Harli V. Park —

A nice little aside from Laney Winchester’s POV in Transient. 

This was supposed to go up yesterday but unfortunately I got too busy and ended up forgetting to finish it and post it. So this is Day 10 for you and Day 11 will be up later tonight! I hope you enjoy this bit of a teaser and look forward to the next post!

To all the new folks, thanks sooo much. All the visits, hits, likes, comments, and best of all follower! Its such a joy to know people are enjoying this as much as I am. If you guys have any requests, suggestions, things you just wanna say or you just want to say “hi” I’m always accepting. 

Thank you for hanging in there! More to come!

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There’s This Girl I Like (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

There’s this girl I like…

I thought for minute I was dreamin’ when I met her…

I mean come on, I was laid out in homeroom like I always am. Mrs. Shipline don’t care anymore than I do.

“My name is Ayida Jean-Baptiste…”


I opened my eyes for jus’ a second, jus’ a peek. New kids were real rare ‘round here so I had to see. I had to see her; especially cause that lil’ lisp-thing she had caught my ears and wouldn’t let me ignore her.

She was beautiful…

Not in a way ya’ll could understand… not like I saw her…

I’d grown up likin’ all kinds of weird shit.

Things like scabs that I used to pick at. Somethin’ ‘bout someone havin’ scars always fascinated me. The stories they tell. I got plenty from fightin’ and climbin’ and being an all around dipshit. Hers though…

They was like some epic story I needed to read… needed to know…

Half her face was this neat cross leadin’ over her eye like a  mob boss or something and the line of her mouth pullin’ up like a demon. Even the strange colored parts on her neck made me stare a lot longer than I should’ve and she was already jittery.

Guess I would be too since… well I go to school with a buncha idiots who don’t like nothin’ new…

What I liked is that she didn’t cry.

She didn’t get that pitiful look like she was ashamed of her scars. Like none of what they said even touched her. Instead, she jus’ decided to sit down so Mrs. Shipline could feel better ‘bout herself. Utter bullshit, but… couldn’t help how curious I was…

I hurried up and put my head down when Mrs. Shipline started bringin’ her over here. What do I do? What do I say. I wanna talk to her. How do i…

I started snorin’.


Like a charm, Mrs. Shipline tried to be a smartass and scare me awake. I only jumped a little, pretendin’ I was jus’ wakin’ up. Acted like I didn’t even see Ayida… or had heard anythin’

Would I like to introduce myself? Duh.

God, she was lookin’ at me.

The scars were even cooler up close, Raised up and smooth; more like a burn than a cut. I wanted to touch it, to be honest. Instead I leaned in, got a good look and took in her eyes while she leaned away. They were like Calista’s winter skies. All grey but so clear ya couldn’t tell there was clouds up there… like the sky had never had color. They kinda.. shimmered too, like… like how marbles do…

Most of all, she looked scared. Behind all that “I don’t care” she was givin’ off, she was scared of lil ole me. I didn’t… I didn’t like how that made me feel. I leaned back and grinned at her. I’m good. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I wanna be yer friend…

“I’m Dakota Fisher and I have to say yer face is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Like, look at it. Seriously badass.”

How was I s’psed to know…

How was I s’posed to know… that the girl I liked…

The only girl I’ve ever wanted to like…


would take everything away from me…

Because I was nice to her…

— Harli V. Park

Hellooo! This is my Day 6 entry for Camp Nanowrimo! Late is becoming a habit. 

I decided to try something different and wrote in the voice of Dakota Fisher, my precious cinnamon roll from Transient. I hope you enjoyed a glimpse into his mind. If you enjoyed, leave a comment, ask questions, like, follow, everything! love you guys!!! Happy Writing!!!





Daddy Issues (Transient Excerpt #3)

Ayida’s blurred vision began to clear and she felt groggy as though just waking. She was on her feet, standing in her father’s bedroom near his bed. A weight in her hand made her raise it and she stared unfeelingly at a kitchen knife clenched tightly in her fist. Breathing calm, she turned it over catching the glint of the moonlight and giving ruby glow to the stains on the blade. A sense of childlike awe and anticipation filled her as her eyes flicked from the blade to her father’s form beneath the comforters. Ayida moved deliberately slow, careful not to the jar the mattress as she climbed onto it. One hand on her father’s chest, Ayida shoved him lightly to rouse him. A wet warmth soaked her hands and she pulled back to gaze at her fingers. A crooked smile spread over her face at the vibrant red. The darkening sheets covering her father were pulled back slowly to reveal a gushing hole in his chest. Ripped pieces of flesh were flayed open with the blood running black over his skin as it soaked his night shirt and the mattress beneath. Continue reading

The Pale Shadow (Transient Excerpt #2)


Dazed gray fluttered open, stirred from what felt like sleep. Her skin prickled with goosebumps where it made contact with the tile of the bathroom. It was unnaturally cold and her breath misted soft white. Finding some will to move, her hand glided slowly over her stomach, the ache long gone and her mind clear of the tempest it had been earlier.  There was no paranoia biting the edges, no fast beating heart to snatch what was left of her breath. Shakily, she pushed herself to sit up and pressed her back against the stall’s wall.

There was a strangely eerie silence about the room despite the echoing hiss of running water. The fluorescent lights above were out leaving a dark grey hue over the bathroom versus the former mix of sun and artificial light of before. The walls were…stained? They appeared dilapidated, peeling paint and cracked tile everywhere. The mirrors were smudged with a thick grime making reflection impossible and the sinks were dingy, the metal rusted. Even the stall doors looked crooked from deteriorating hinges and the stale scent of decay was heavy in the room along with something she couldn’t identify. It took a moment but her eyes adjusted to this semi-darkness and Ayida pulled herself to stand, wincing at the ache in her body. Where had her tormentors gone? Had the day passed already? No, no, that would mean she lost time. She couldn’t start losing time again. If she did, Dr. Chandler would send her back to the hospital. He would have to… Continue reading

The Scarred Child (Transient Excerpt #1)


The scent of dry-erase marker was one she’d been certain she would never smell again. Yet there it was, pungent smell permeating the quaint little classroom with its sunny windows and dark wood desks lined up neat grid lines. It was a strange thing to notice, but it felt safe in a way the dozens of eyes on her did not. The dull whispers of conversation echoed almost too loudly against her nervous ears. Having grown accustomed to a certain volume from the nurses and even more so the single voice of her father, the cacophony of sound – no matter how soft – unnerved her.

“Class, I have someone very special for ya’ll to meet,” Mrs. Shipman, her new homeroom and English teacher, brought attention to her presence. Tension rose as they realized that confronting them now was the elusive occupant of the old blue house at the end of Maple Street. “This is Ayida Jean-Baptiste, our newest student.”

Ayida kept her head low, face obscured by white hood.

“Go on dear,” The teacher encouraged, a touch impatient and inappropriately eager. “Don’t be shy.”

Shy wasn’t the word and the encouragement did nothing for the tremble in her fingers. The threat of the gazes in the room wasn’t the reason she clenched the brim of her hood. The initial shock associated with disgust – and more often pity – was a prevalent occurrence since her convalescence in the hospital. It was nothing to get worked up over much less make her hesitant. The color of her anxiety was ending all chances of interaction by revealing her face. However, what else could be done other than lower her hood and let the light show them what had been hiding in their town.

Disfigurement distorted the right side of her face in the form of a long rugged scar from hairline to swell of cheek, interrupted by her damaged eye where lid drooped heavily over blown pupil. Devoid of Life, the matte gray hue gave the appearance of fish eye in opposition to her expressive frost gray one. Nothing but a miracle had kept sight in it. Across this long scar was a separate, smoother line of raised skin. The stiches had managed to dose this long split of her mouth making the scar trail from the corner of lips to the apple of cheek like a Glasgow smile. Mahogany flesh was mottled down her neck, hinting at unseen damage beneath soft yellow blouse. The only saving grace was the abundance of thick sable spirals about her shoulders and face. The ringlets could not cover the imperfections, but they offered a more positive juxtaposition that made her just a bit easier to look at.

Of course, the reveal delayed verbal reaction from the other students as they stared and gave Ayida a moment to take them all in. The furrow of brows, curling of lips, widening of eyes in varying expressions, and slight leaning away of some gave much away as to the climate of the room, but it didn’t prove to be positive. As she let her fingers slide away from the lapels of her jacket, she wet her lips and pressed her teeth into the flesh of it.

Remember. This isn’t about you.

“My name is Ayida Jean-Baptiste.” Pause. Breath. Careful with the lisp. “I got into a really bad accident last year when I first moved to Calista. That’s why I look like this.”

A snicker.

“Go on dear, it’s okay.”

No its not. “It’s uh, nice to meet you all finally and—”

“….face is effed up!”

“What’s up with your eye?”

“She look like leatherhead…”

Mrs. Shipman glared and struck her desk to silence the building giggles and uncouth questions. “That’s enough! If you don’t have anything nice to ask her, keep your mouth shut!”

A few scoffs and snickers remained.

Ayida looked up at the frustrated woman. “I can just sit down.”

“Oh…of course dear. Let’s find you a seat,” she said flashing a sympathetic smile that was not returned.

-Harli V. Park –

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