My Writing Desk

Waging Wars With Devils (Fantasy)

D e s c r i p t i o n

Latin Morris. At 115 years old, she was born under the depths of Atlantis.

Under Atlantis there is a secrets realm. A realm in which she coincides along with a plethora of other demons along with her father. In a realm called Haiti.

Did you know that you've been lied to your whole life because magic is very much real, just endangered. magic is slowly dying in the world, magic is disappearing, magical creatures are scarce. Some are just fairytales or stories but most of them are real. Very few of them are still alive as they are being hunted by a small group know as the Revelations. They have killed countless of the mystics that be. The Revelations' only divine interests are to end magic, mystic and mystery for good.

•••••••••D e s c r i p t i o n   e n d

P r o l o g u e

The sun shone though my curtains with blinding light. Most people would be up and out doing stuff. But I sit stiff in my bed.

My dirty blonde, curls, cascade down my back as I laid against my bed frame reading a book.

Yes, a book.

Most teenagers are out with friends planing or preparing for the first day of high school but me no; I'm in my room reading a book.

Tomorrow is my first day of high school. Yay!

I slowly rise from my bed. My bones cracking and popping every witch way. I step out of my room and towards the kitchen.

The kitchen is fairly simple. Nine to ten cabinets, a dish washer and two sinks, oven, microwave as well. The floor is a light white tile and the counter tops are a deep black. I reach up to one of the cabinets for a glass. I reach and reach and when I grab one I bring it down.

It's crystal clear frame. The way light shines and reflects on the sides. My mind goes blank and all I do is study it, like its new to me. The frame holds minor scratches and cracks. I let my fingertips easily slide across it examining its smooth texture and and cool touch. My fingers go numb a second and I couldn't care less.

A soft purr and fluffy fur glide and swing behind me, bringing me out of my reverie. Causing the glass to slip from my hands. Landing on the floor with a shattered crash followed by a scattering screech.

A sharp pain struck the back of my leg; a clean cut. "Lucifer" I grumble turning towards the cat. The cat scratch burning the back of my leg. "What the hell, Lucifer! You scared me! Oh and I appreciate being scratched at 6 o'clock in the fucking morning. Thank you so much." I said turning my attention back to the broken glass scattering across the floor.

I then walked away and towards my handy-dandy broom. I turned on my heels back to the kitchen with the broom at hand and towards the broken glass. I got down and began sweeping when a fragile voice called out to me.

"Latin, let me get it. I'm really sorry I startled you."

I looked up and there stood a man. He had black hair with a bed head look to it. His eyes were a like cat eyes, yellow and sharp...yet they held a subtle kindness, unknown and unseen unless you were looking for it. His skater jeans and jet black shirt clung to him loosely, he was wearing some simple black and white vans.

I lifted my head to meet his gaze once again. "Thanks Lucifer." I said, slowly getting off the ground.

"Oh and sorry again about scratching you."

"It's okay" I said turning the back of my leg around "See all better"

And I was right. There, right where the supposed scratch should be, there was nothing it had already healed.

"Damn Latin, that was fast. This whole demon-healing-thingy is pretty fricking cool!"

"Yeah, but it doesn't make me immune to cat scratch fever you doofus. I'm gonna make some coffee. Do you want any?" I said turning towards the cabinets and grabbing two coffee mugs.

He was still bent over and cleaning up the glass. "Yeah, sure. Thank you. Oh, and no sugar" He said as I was walking away and towards the coffee maker.

"Yah sure. Got it Lucy" I replied looking over my shoulder in his direction, just waiting for his reaction.

He sucked in his teeth. "Latin you know how much I hate that stupid nickname!"

"Exactly" I said putting the mugs next to the coffee maker. "Your holding your temper better this time" I added, while putting some coffee beans into the maker. But only enough for one cup. I like my coffee made differently than his.

I placed his mug under the coffee maker. Just as it began pouring into the mug I threw two whole coffee beans in my cup and added some water.

Resting my hands on my cup and focusing on the atoms and their steady movements. I sped their movements up  but by bit till the water came to a boil.

Another perk of being demon: fire.

I set my cup down on the counter and I walked toward the counter closest to the stove for the spices and stuff. Of course it was impossible to see.  Being the short being that I am, actually I'm not that short, I'm 5'4.

I was rummaging through my cabinets. I grabbed four different spices. I then walked back to my mug. Pouring three drops of vanilla, 2 shakes of cinnamon, 1 spike of nutmeg, and a tea spoon of cane sugar.

"How is it you make coffee all the time yet I can never get over how amazing you are. Seriously you made coffee with demonic powers." Lucifer said from behind me and I suddenly felt the urge to elbow him in the side for his remarks.

"Lucifer talk about my 'demonic powers' again, and I'll dancing on your grave." I spoke with a calm subtle tone the spoke for itself and it said I'm-not-joking-because-I-will-do-it-and-it-won't-be-the-first-time look. He took the hint, grabbed his coffee and ran out the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. He was running so fast I think he might have used his cheetah speed. I heard his door click and then the sound of a lock being put place.

Then silence' I am so glad I have this effect on him. He knows not to mess with my powers. Or me.

Especially in the morning.