Writer In Motion Forum

I love the ending line! You've done a great job painting the story. Nice work!

This is great. You've built some strong conflict between the characters and I want more!

I love the movement you gave the poster in this. Well done on your first draft! I can't wait to see where it goes from here.

Here's my first draft of approx 600 words!

"Mom." Azami choked on her tears as she draped her upper body over the lid of the casket. Her aunt?s arms wrapped around her waist and tugged, but Azami refused to let go of the cold metal beneath her hands.

"Azami, it is time to go."

She shook her head. "No. You can't make me."

One finger at a time, Azami was pulled away from her mom until she twisted around and buried her head in Aunt Charlotte's stomach.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It will get better."

Words she'd heard over and over the last few weeks. Ever since the day Mom breathed the last breath she'd ever take. The day Azami lost the person she admired the most, the one who promised to teach her everything about being a witch.

Gone for good.

Azami sniffed once more then pulled away. She needed to get out of the stuffy church. The white walls and red scratchy pews closed in until Azami couldn't breathe anymore. She looked around the room of the funeral home and realized most of the people were strangers. One more quick glance at her aunt to make sure someone else held her attention and Azami took off to the right, not the same direction as the bathroom.

"I'm going to the bathroom." She swiped a hand across her cheek to dry the last of the tears she'd let fall.

Aunt Charlotte nodded then turned to an old man standing off to the side. Azami studied the gray hair sticking out of his ears, the dark spots on the back of his hands, a gold aura outlining his form. Recognizing his aura brought another rush of tears, a reminder of their lessons on the hill behind their house when Mom taught her how to look for auras and what they meant.

This one stood out though, because most of the auras were black or gray, but his stood out in the crowd. Azami made a mental note to check the descriptions her mom gave her. Something about the man felt off, but she couldn't decide if it was good or bad.

As Azami made her way down the hall toward the bathroom some of the pictures caught her attention. One in particular made her stop and really study it. A woman reaching into the sky with a light coming off the tip of her fingers. She held onto a pole at the edge of a cliff.

"Wonder what she's reaching for." Azami considered the emptiness in her chest. It mimicked the feel of the picture, nothing around the woman but a single pole and a light in her hands. A ray of sun shone through the window at the end of the hallway. Just like the light in the picture. If Azami reached for it would she be falling as well?

Her gaze tracked the stream of light to a house off in the distance. The house on the hill that no one dared entered. Ghosts lived there--or so the people in town said. Even if there were ghosts, it didn't mean they were evil or filled with darkness. She and her mom were going to plan a sleep over for her next birthday.

But that wouldn't happen now. Or ever. Freaking doctors and their stupid medicines.

Without thinking, Azami took off to her left toward a door to get out of the place. She ran up the street in the direction of the house. It wouldn't matter where she was, everywhere lately reminded her of Mom, but at least up there she?d have happy memories. Maybe she could smile for the first time in weeks.

But what is the terrible gift??