good as usual

Yeah, I liked it.

Yes, I loved the part where Luna beat the crap out of the popular girl.

ur gonna b a writr!! again very VERY GOOD!!!

very good! :)

This is Awesome!

cool

ok i'm very very happy i didn't eat a minute ago.........
very very very good!

I didn't find this gruesome, in fact it made me hungry

wow good!

Okay, the reason why I haven't been posting for this is because I'm redoing it. The first few pages are the same, but the rest is totally different.

yeah, I totally hate when i redo my stories, but I turn my other story Terror Comes Alive into a completely different story but anyways, cool!

I Don’t Have a Good Birthday

Luna

Let me just say, when I have a bad dream (it’s usually only one dream) it means I’ll have a really bad day. Also, the more realistic the dream, the worse and weirder the dream day will be. Sadly, that day was my birthday.
So, the dream is like this. It’s me when I’m four, on a trip with the rest of my family. I was hiding behind a tree in the middle of the night and my father was chained to a stone wall. His dark black hair was all messy, and his beard had dabs of blood on it.
“Alexandru,” said a woman with bleach-white hair and a foreign accident. “You disgrace of your kind, you know ve have to kill you.”
Dad scowled, “Give me the potion already.”
The woman laughed coldly. “But then you wouldn’t have the death you deserve,”
I gasped. The woman cocked her ear to me and started sniffing, “Blood,” she said in a raspy voice. “Fresh blood!”
Even that young little girl knew she was talking about me, so I ran quickly, as fast as I could. I listened to a tiny part of my brain that said, Don’t make noise, they’ll hear you. You don’t want to get caught by them. As soon as I stopped I looked into a bush and saw what was happening.
“It’s too far avay now,” the woman decided. “I’ll get it later. Now, for you, Alexandru. I must get my… others for this. Banduna! Beryx! Kill him.”
“Wait!” Dad protested. His voice sounded very strained. “Please don’t kill my family.”
“Ve can’t promise you zat. Once ze time comes, I must, but for now, I guess I von’t. Consider zis a favor, Nightly, because it vill. Never. Happen. Again.”
Two monstrous looking men with grey skin and wild red eyes came and was ripping my father to shreds. I was covering my eyes with my fingers, it was just too horrible to look at.
The woman chuckled darkly, “Now zat ze alpha has died, ve know who our next ones are to kill, eh boys?”
“True,” said one of the men. He had a very deep, raspy voice. “But don’t you think that one them will--”
“SILENCE!” ordered the woman. “My plan is golden, once zey become a threat to us, ve kill them. Got it?”
Both the men nodded. The woman seemed very pleased with herself.
And that’s how my father died. Well, not really, my mom says he died in a car crash on his way to work but, I just don’t believe it. It’s too hard to.

Well, dream aside, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Luna Nightly, and I have a twin sister Stella Nightly. We’re fourteen. When we turned it my Mom was really nervous, which I would be too if you had to put up with us, but I’ll get to that later.
It was summer time at least. You see, I get horrible grades, I’m the ‘trouble maker’ and I’m the ‘not-popular’ one. But at least I have two friends named Danny and Carrie.
I live in Salem, Massachusetts. You know, the home of where they accused every single person of being a witch? Yeah, that place.

I woke up stretching my arms out and used my arm to shield my eyes from the sunlight. Pulling myself out of the covers, and getting up onto the floor at eleven thirty, I scratched my ass, walked slowly and staggered out of my room.
When I got into the yellow-tiled kitchen, Mom kept mumbling, “What am I going to do?”
Mom has long blond hair, intense blue eyes, and a tiny frame said Stella looks a lot like Mom, except younger.
I used to. I was sick of being called, Stella’s-Twin-What’s-Her-Name. So, I dyed my hair jet-black and cut it super short, but instead they called me Stella’s-Twin-Who-Went-Goth. (It’s punk, by the way, not Goth.)
“Do you think I can invite my friends over for the party?”
“NO!” Mom protested instantly. “Um, sorry about lashing out on you like that Stella. It’s just that, I wanted to spend some quality time you girls, okay?”
Stella, being the favorite said, “Please, Mom? I’ll only have my closest friends there like, Tammy, Alexis, Sara--”
“And her really good ‘friends’,” I said with air quotes. “Like Paul, Steve, Tyler, Conner--”
“SHUT UP!” Stella protested.
“Girls,” Mom said politely. “For this birthday, it’s going to be just with us, okay?”
Stella looked disappointed. “All right,” she sighed. I was pleased, finally, Stella didn’t get what she wanted. It’s awesome. “Hey, stop smirking, Luna-tic!”
I hate my name and my sister’s because you can make up so many insults with the name Luna but none for Stella.
“Was I?” I asked innocently.
“Yes you were!”
“Girls,” Mom said. “Relax, okay? And try to get along.”
“Yes Mom,” Stella and I said in perfect sync.
“Now, I’ll prepare your breakfasts. Your favorites.”
“But we like two different things,” I pointed out. Stella kicked my shin under the table. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”
“Thanks, Mom,” Stella said and smiled very innocently.
I shook my head in disgust and mouthed I hate you.
Then she mouthed, At least I know how to act, Luna-tic.
I sighed and rolled my eyes and went into my room to find my iPod in my room.
Now, being the punk chick that I am, I don’t have the most appealing or raise-your-spirits kind of room. The walls are blood red covered with Sharpie-d words such as cuss words or lyrics that I really like. With black paint I made two shot guns side by side, and a drum set. I learned how to nail my skateboard to the wall so I did that and I did the same with my (black, obviously) guitar. The bed is the same colors as the rest of my room, black and red but it does have some white in it. And my bedroom is complete with a tan drawer, two night stands and a TV. You see, I’m not the cheeriest person in the world, but it’s pretty obvious.
As soon as I got my iPod, I sat down at the kitchen table while watching Mom make my bacon and eggs first.
“Uh, Mom,” I said as I took out my earbuds.
“Yes?”
“I had The Dream again.”
Mom almost dropped her pan.
“Um, anything wrong, Mom?”
Her eyes widened, “Oh, er, no sweetie, there’s nothing wrong.” and she gave me an I’m-okay smile.
I sighed because I knew she wasn’t telling me the truth but I decided to drop it. When Mom doesn’t want you to know the truth, she’ll do anything to lie and get her way out of it. But then that tiny voice of my insanity and stupidity said, She never tells you the truth, make her do it now.
“Mom, can’t you just tell me what’s wrong for once?!” I yelled. Even Stella’s eyes were focused on it. “You have never told me the truth about Dad’s ’way to work’. You’ve never told me Dad’s other side of the family, what he does, and you won’t tell me what’s wrong now! I’m sick of it! I hate you!”
Stella’s eyes popped. Mom settled her pan on the counter and looked down. “I know I haven’t,” she said softly. “But I can’t tell you now. I really hope one day you understand, Luna.”
“Screw you,” I told her. I went into my room and I put on jeans and a ACDC T-shirt. I grabbed my iPod and put it in my pocket. Then, I opened the window and busted out of my room.
Screw them, I thought. Screw Stella, Mom, and Dad, who was never there for me. Just fuck them all, they did nothing for me. None of them cared about me, and I shouldn’t for them. They can go fuck themselves!
Then my conscience said, You don’t mean that. You’re just pissed, that’s all. You do love them. But I barely listened to that part of my brain. All I cared about was getting as far away as possible and still to hold my grudge.
I walked all the sidewalks and all the streets to clear my head. My iPod was blasting. I kept listening to things I probably shouldn’t have that made me more angry like, Riot by Three Days Grace or Psychosocial by Slipknot. But then, I hit the saddest song in all of my iPod--maybe in the whole world. My Immortal by Evanescence. I unexpectedly started crying--right there, on the sidewalk, where everyone saw me. I fell kneeling and covering my face with my hands. Well, not on the sidewalk, by the end of a dead-end.
“Hey kid,” a guy with a gravely voice. “Anything wrong?”
“Oh, um…” I wiped away my tears. “Yeah,”
The guy shrugged and he walked past me.
I sighed. Get your act together, Luna. You don’t need any attention.
I was breathing in and out. Relax. I told myself. Just relax.
“Oh look,” said a girl. She was looking down at me with her long brown hair draping the sides of her face. She had two girls by her side, one with blond hair, one with red. They all had the exact same outfit, pink or light blue Hollister shirt, super skinny jeans, wearing Uggs in the middle of summer and a “perfect” complexion. It was my sister’s best friends, Tammy, (the one with the brown hair) Alexis, (with the blond) and Sara (with the red). The most annoying people on the planet. “It’s Luna, having a breakdown.” Tammy pouted her lips. The others giggled. “Are you crying about your dead daddy?”
I got up and cocked my head to sides, taking out my earbuds and put my iPod into my pocket. “Say that again…” I warned.
“Okay,” she said taking a step forward. “Are--you--crying--about--your--dead dad?”
I threw myself at her and pinned her to the ground. “You bitch!” I said punching her in the stomach. “Take it back, take it back!” The other girls were screaming, then started pulling my hair. I started yelling in pain. I elbowed them both in the gut.
Then, Sara, was the first one to get up. She placed one hand on the paved ground and rose unsteadily. “Moron,” she muttered and started chasing me.
I ran so she couldn’t catch up with me. I’m pretty fast.
Passing a brick building, a deli, and a boutique, Sara caught up with me again.
I was laying my back against the wall and my eyes widened when I saw her.
She smirked and said, “There you are, you despicable faggot!”
She ran as fast as a cheetah and at the last second, I pulled my leg out, next thing I knew, her face was on the asphalt.
“Ha! Serves you right!” I said laughing, and took off to my home.


The wind was whipping my hair in all different directions, and I started sweating under my black clothes. Ugh, I thought. Why’d I wear dark clothes? I knew that would make me sweaty and hot.

Finally, I was home after about twenty minutes of running but seemed like twenty hours in the heat.
My house is a two story, blue house with four square windows and a door with white bordering around it.
I knocked on the door since it was locked, and my mother opened it, waved hello but I ignored her.
I went into the hall to get in my room, but then, Stella stopped me dead in my tracks.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” she screamed in my ear.
“Okay, first, ow; and second, I know I shouldn’t have hurt your friends but hear me out--”
“AHA!”
“Huh?”
“I thought my friends were lying until you said you hurt them! I’m a genius!”
“You’re flattering yourself,” I pointed out.
“Whatever. The point is: you hurt innocent people.”
I scoffed, “Innocent? Far from it. Especially giving BJ’s in the back of a Friday’s for a twenty bucks per guy.”
“That’s a rumor,” Stella protested.
“Yeah, whatever. Also, they were making fun of your twin sister, Blondie.”
Her nostrils flared. “I told you not to call me ‘Blondie’. Ever.” she hates when I call her that.
“Um… no. I will. Forever. Any-who, I’m going to crash on the couch watching 1000 Ways to Die, while you figure out what the hell is right and what’s wrong. I, personally, think that forgiving your ‘fabulous’ friends all of the time, is wrong. Even if my friends Carrie and Danny find them hot.”
“Carrie’s gay?”
“Bi,” I corrected. “I told you this.”
“Oh, right,”
And I walked out of the hallway and into the living room.
The living room has a tan leather couch, a brown coffee table, an HD, flat screen TV, crimson red walls, and a dark chocolate brown rug.
I watched the show.
Then, I took a little nap and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up with the sun peering through my window. The sky was pink and orange. I squinted, and got up. It was like déjà vu from this morning.
“LUNA!” cried Mom outside my door. “LUNA! GET UP! WE’RE GOING TO A RESTAURANT FOR YOU AND YOUR SISTERS’ BIRTHDAY.”
I groaned, but slowly pulled myself up.
I got out of the room and asked, “Where to?”
Mom was all dressed up. She had her hair in a bun, a black dress, pointy-toed high heels, and wore gold hoops earrings. And to top it all off, she had silver eye-shadow. “That new Italian restaurant. Um, what was it called? Stella! What was the place called?!” she yelled for her in the other room.
“Mario‘s!” Stella called back.
Mom turned to me, “That place.”
I nodded. “So, I have to dress up?” I was dreading this. I absolutely hate getting dressed up.
I never really saw the point in it. I mean, you get dressed up for some stupid (but yet it’s supposed to be formal) occasion and later, you get all of the make-up (if you’re a girl or cross-dresser) and take off the dress shoes, get your hair the way it’s supposed to be and get out of that tuxedo or dress. So, basically, you’re doing it all for nothing.
Then Mom said, “You have to, honey. It’s a very high class place.”
My shoulders slumped, “Fine,” and walked into my room.
Going into the closet and finding a short red and plaid dress, and Converse high-heel boots, I put them on and wore black and blue eye-shadow and eye-liner.
“Good enough?” I asked Mom and Stella.
My sister squealed. Apparently, she forgot about wanted to kick my ass for jumping her friends. “O-M-G! You’re wearing a dress! It’s a miracle!” Stella was wearing high-heeled sandals and a cheetah bubble-hem dress. Her hair was curled and had a fake, black rose in it.
I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just go, shall we?”
Mom nodded and got her purse and led us to outside where there was a stone pathway to two cars (a white minivan and a dark blue Honda luxury car).
We got into her Honda, with the leather seats smoldering hot. I slightly put up my thigh and rubbed it.
“Ouch,” I said under my breath.
Mom put the key in the ignition and the AC was on full blast, making the air hotter, but after a minute or two it was cool and refreshing.
We passed about ten (cheap) restaurants, until we got to Mario’s and were awaited by a woman dressed in a black T-shirt, a name tag that read “Nicole”, black boot-cut pants, and ballet flats.
The place looked pretty fancy. Nothing special, though. It’s the same Italian restaurant you would see anywhere. Fake grape vines, yellow brick walls, a little pizza part with wood-oven for the pies, tables that had red checkered patterns or plain white.
“Please follow me,” said Nicole. She got three menus, took us to a table that had a white cloth, and we all sat down.
We ordered our drinks (I wanted to scare Mom by ordering a White Russian, but then decided that was a bad idea and went with a Sprite). Stella ordered a Coke, and Mom ordered red wine (no wonder, having to deal with us).
After fifteen minutes of taking sips of my Sprite, the waitress Nicole took our orders for dinner.
I got lasagna, Mom got some sort of steak, and Stella got chicken marsala.
“So….” Mom said, trying to break the silence. “Luna, having a good birthday so far?”
I scoffed, “Yeah, a really good birthday.” I said sarcastically and rolled my eyes.
“Honey, I’m sorry… and--”
“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered.
“But sweetie--”
“It doesn’t matter,” I repeated.
She nodded and turned over to Stella and asked her the same thing.
“Oh my God, yes! Thanks for the curling iron, and cell phone, Mom.”
“You got her that?!” I asked in amazement.
“When you were out attacking my friends, dip-shit.” I heard Stella mumble.
I scowled at her, and look back at Mom.
“Once we get home I’ll give you the presents for your birthday--”
“Even though she doesn’t deserve it,” Stella interrupted. “Face it, Mom, it’s true. You remember the time she almost went to juvenile detention, don’t you? And just today she was being rude to you. She doesn’t deserve half the stuff she gets.”
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. All of that is true, I’m not going to lie, but I’d do something Stella would never even think about: I’d die for my family. Stella’s too selfish and self-absorbed to do that. I may say bad things to and about my family, but if another person does it, I’d kick their ass in a second.
“Neither do you, Stella. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
She scoffed, putting her hand over heart. “I volunteered to the needy--”
“To make yourself better, to make yourself feel like you aren’t the selfish cunt that you really are. At least when people say something bad about you or Mom, I defend you two. You just laugh along with your friends so you can stay popular.”
“That--”
“Is totally true. You sicken me.”
A waiter handed us a basket full of bread and I picked one out and buttered it.
Stella stared at me in shock. I believed she was genuinely hurt, because she didn’t talk to me at all, and just stared.
“I’m sorry, Stella, but it’s true. What you said just a few minutes ago was true, making me feel like shit. When saying something bad but true, it makes the worst insult.”
“You’re a bitch,”
I shrugged, “Okay,” I said, then took a bite out of the bread.
She sighed and went into her purse and took out her BlackBerry, looking at it (probably to see how many pokes she has on Facebook or something) and turned to me. Her she had tears in her eyes. I felt bad for doing this, but she kind of deserved it.
After years of torment, after years of getting picked on by her friends, the tables finally turned.
She ran out of Mario’s crying with her high-heels clomping on the tiles and wood.
“See what you did?” my mother whispered-yelled at me. “I hope you’re happy, Luna Roxanne Nightly. You apologize to your sister right now!”
“Why should I? She’s a bitch.”
“Luna….” she let the warning hang.
“Ugh, fine, Kimberly.” I said “Kimberly” under my breath, because she hates being called her first name by her children. Well, all parents get hate being called by their first name from their offspring. Don’t know why.
I went through the door and saw Stella sitting on a bench with her face in her palms and as soon as she heard me coming she looked up and said through sobs, “Did you come here just to call me a cunt and a bitch some more?”
I sat on the bench with her, “I’m only here ‘cause Mom said I have to apologize. I still feel that everything that I said is true, and nothing but that. You are selfish. But, actually (and it may astonish you) I am sorry.”
She looked up at me and said nothing.
“Y’know what? I’m done. I’m done trying to talk to you, Stella. I can guarantee you this: you’re my twin, but will never be my sister.”
I stormed off in my three-freaking-inch-high heeled boots back into the restaurant and sat at my table, with Mom.
“What’d she say?” Mom asked; I said nothing.

Later, after thirty minutes of Mom and my twin talking, and the food arriving five minutes before they got back into Mario’s.
“Luna,” Mom said holding onto my twin‘s shoulders. “Apologize to your sister--”
“She isn’t my sister,” I said.
Mom sighed, “Apologize to your twin, this instant.”
I wanted to say, something rude but said nothing. “I’m sorry, Stella for being rude to you, before.” I said through gritted teeth.
Stella seemed somewhat satisfied, she stopped crying, but still looked at me all sad-like.
She mouthed, Why, Luna? Why would you say all of that stuff?
Because you needed to hear the truth, I mouthed back.
She had another sad face on. I could tell Stella was trying to make me feel guilty.
Whatever, I thought. Forget about her.
Stella and Mom sat down while I was eating my lasagna bit by bit.
“Y’know,” I said, trying to change the subject of my mother being mad at me for the rest of my birthday. “This is really good.” My voice was muffled because of the food and I was pointing my fork downward at the white glass plate.
My mother nodded and rambled about that “how much it’s going to cost, but it’s worth it because of the quality of the food” or something. Stella just stared down at her plate, her face all red and puffy.
I honestly did feel bad for being so mean to her, but then I kept thinking maybe she was trying to make me feel guilty and that would make me apologize to her.
This is when the angel and the devil appear on my shoulders; the devil saying, “FUCK THAT BITCH! SHE’S JUST TRYING TO MAKE YOU FEEL GUITLY! DON‘T APOLOGIZE TO HER.” and the angel saying, “Yeah, sure, devil. You are so right,” and it rolls its little sky-blue eyes at the crazy, unstable, paranoid devil. “Listen, just say you’re sorry to your sister. I bet you’ll feel helluva lot better if you did.”
Later, I told the angel.
“Ugh. Fine, your call. My condolences if you don’t see the power of being nice.”
Great, even my conscience thinks I’m an ass.

After eating, Stella, Mom, and I went back into the Nissan and I sat in the back; I didn’t really feel like communicating all that much.
We were driving for what seemed like hours, and as I watched the sky go to a pink-ish orange, to a starry dark purple, I know it’s been a very long time we were driving. While laying back on the leather seats, I saw that on the clock it said 8:47, and we were basically in the middle of nowhere.
Stella had her head turned slightly to the side and her eyes closed. Her mouth was open just a bit and heavy breathing passed.
Mom’s hands were on the steering wheel and her eyes locked on the front of the road. She looked very tense, and wasn’t really blinking.
“Um,” I said. Mom turned her head around. “Where are we?”
She turned her head back to the front-view mirror, wide-eyed.
“Where. Are. We?” I asked again, slowly.
No response.
I asked again.
No response.
Another time.
No response.
One last time.
No damn response.
“Fine,” I murmured. “Don’t answer.” I rolled my eyes, and crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat.
When she finally reached her destination at God-knows-where, I shook Stella’s arm to wake her up.
Her eyes fluttered open and she got out of the car, looking exhausted. She rubbed her eyes. “Is it morning?” she asked.
I shook my head, “It’s either a little too late or early for that, Stel.”
“Ah,” she nodded.
“Stella! Luna!” Mom called. Me and her followed.
The sky was purplish-dark bluish and a few stars popped up. Mom had called us into the woods where tons of pine and birch trees were scattered about and the ground was muddy and a bit cold.
Mom’s mascara was running and formed a black splattered look across her cheeks.
“I didn’t want to do this!” She yelled through sobs. “God dammit. I didn’t want to! If only they’d just leave you two alone… then… then I wouldn’t have to do it! It isn’t fair!” She buried her face in her hands and dropped her knees to the ground. “WHY?! WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST LEAVE THEM ALONE?!” She called out.
“What are you talking about?” Stella asked.
Mom looked down at the ground and picked herself up. She pulled out a handgun. “This is what I didn’t want to do.” She said quietly. She pointed the pistol at Stella and I, shifting it to one another.
Me and Stella exchanged a look which said, Is she out of her mind?
I put my hands up in the air. “W-Why are you doing this? I m-mean, what’s the reason?”
“I can’t tell you,” Said Mom, her eyes red and a tear came running down her face. She took a deep breath and cocked the weapon and pulled the trigger.

ooh! cliffhanger, crazy mom pulls out a gun, what will happen next? (these questions are all rhetorical)

i like cliffhangers. very good! XD

well, that was an...interesting ending