| Wattys 2022 Shortlist | CURRENTLY UNDER THE EDITING PROCESS
Bora, the last arctic breed, was born with an ominous curse. He must sacrifice himself to the deity for the sake of his kind, but when he meets Gemma, love makes him reevaluate his self-i...
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Nine Years Ago
Too lazy to run downstairs to get a wet wipe, I brushed off the Cheeto crumbs on the backside of my jeans. I'm resisting the urge not to suck on them to a raisin. Close to touching the paper with my nose, I sketched the total lunar eclipse, grasping the tiny details as possible.
Shoot, I smeared the orange dust along my creation of a dark red ring moon, trying to dab it away with a damp blue towel. But the more I wiped, the more residue penetrates and smears into the sheet. I tilt my head to see how bad it is.
"Meh, it gives it character." I hunched my shoulders.
It's my eleventh birthday, and my parents aren't home to celebrate the bestest day of my life. I compensate for it by ending the night, drawing the beaver blood moon. Feels like a birthday gift being the first time I am experiencing it. My parents are scientists working for MLI, Meter Laboratory Incorporated. One of the most well-known laboratories for finding vaccines for diseases.
So excited that we moved back to Iowa from Alaska. I was born in Iowa state, so I returned to my hometown.
By a miracle, Dad will be free from working at the company this weekend. He promised to take me on a private tour of the museum, Sunday, to view displays of mythical creatures created by exceptional artists. They have taken natural material and sculpted realistic statues which have people believing they are alive.
Since they posted advertisements on billboards across the city. There has been an intense obsession with the humanoids among my classmates at school. I think it's because it's circulating at the same time as the blood moon tonight. The techies read they are creatures of magic that have wandered through a portal into Earth.
Honestly, it's a load of crap. It's akin to the News Station ploy, featuring Santa Claus traversing the skys for the delight of children, yet this time, everyone is being deceived. Still, it has its perks. Even though my parents' jobs force them to travel and our life revolves around that stupid company. I get first dibs on artistic fantasies that circle science.
I am eager to take pictures at the museum to shove the truth in their throats.
It will be my personal homecoming gift from me to them. I've always been an eye-opener. Someone needs to inform these believers of the truth. As of now, I am held hostage by Grandma telling Grandpa war stories. As soon as she drifted off into a snoring piggy, I chucked deuce and tiptoed my way back to my telescope.
"Whatcha doing, hobbit?" Startled by Quinn, my pencil lead flew across my sketch paper. While tapping my desk, annoyed, I turn around, turning up my nose to find this jerk taking the lens off my telescope. I sighed and got up, shoving his scrawny back towards the door.
"Get out!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs, snatching the lens. He taunted me with his demonic laugh, taking his time through the hall, and I slammed the door. I am persuaded he was in his room, bored, and said, I don't have to be miserable when I have a sister to torment.
