WriterAnonymous

You know the old saying, What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? You do? Good. Don't ever listen to something that was made famous by a guy with a name like Nietzsche. Because last Christmas Eve, I was very, very close to dying myself, and I most certainly do not feel stronger. In fact, if anything, I feel scared shitless. The source of my fear? Her name is Megumi. She's beautiful... too beautiful to be real, almost, but she somehow is. Platinum blonde hair that could easily rival moon beams and eyes-- oh, those eyes-- forged from pure jade. She has a body like a rock star, in my opinion anyway. Not one of those tooth pick thin girls you s

Andromeda. Moire. Andromeda Moire. He let his pencil do the talking, watching his own messy handwriting form the letters that formed the name on the paper beside him. Her pen strokes were curved and maybe even elegant. This was the precise reason that Jaro enjoyed the Peer-editing that they went through every other day in English. What's in a name, anyway? He wondered to himself, calling back some buried memory from Mythology class. Like the majority of her family, she had been named after a constellation. Vaguely, Mrs. Dame's voice repeated how the brightest star in the constellation was Alpheratz. The star that was also referred to as "

Jaro's smile had always been an object of fascination to Andromeda. It wasn't like she hadn't seen plenty of vampires smiling before; she'd lived in a neighborhood with several kind vampires. There was a drastic difference between their smiles, and his. There had been sincere effort in those people to try and not seem dangerous, but no matter what, her heart always beat a bit with the adrenaline that fear pushed through her veins. With him, her heart did beat more quickly. With excitement. When he would socialize in school, she would watch with some form of subtle intent. The curve of his pearly white fangs as he laughed, barely shielded by

Andromeda sat on the ragged couch of Jaro's single-story home. On the same couch as him. Across the hall, in the kitchen, there was the occasional clinking of glass. His twin was putting away dishes, humming the basics of a song that had just come out from a human pop singer. The same thing she had hummed for the past two days. It was, in fact, starting to get on his nerves. But he wasn't concerned with that. He was concerned with the witch sitting on his couch, a small paperback book in her hands. She leaned against the arm of the green fabric-bound piece of furniture, eyes scanning each page intently. His senses picked up on her heartbeat,