Novel No. 8 and Public Fangirling

Since I failed for the eighth time at writing a book through to completion, I'm going to make a promise, right here, right now. I am going to post three chapters a day on this page. It doesn't matter that I didn't make the NaNoWriMo thing, I'm not a writer and never will be. Since my Chemistry teacher said I should keep writing (thanks, Ms. S!) I think this might help me. Not that I have a single subscriber to my page... ah, well.

Here are chapters 1-3 of Through Our Eyes:

Initiation

ONE

There’s a monster in my body. I don’t know where it came from, or how it got there. Hell, I don’t know what it is. It’s a writhing mass of hatred brewing, taking over me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it.

What does it matter, though, if I do stop it? It’s not as though anyone would notice if I was a monster. I’m not a little girl anymore. At this age, I must know more than my parents think. I cannot speak, they talk to me in hushed tones befitting an infant. Ah, well, I suppose it does make sense. But I am so alone. Are all people alone like this?

TWO

The monster will not leave. I must make something, someone to love. Not the ghostly figures my sisters pretend to see by their bedsides, no. Someone much more concrete. How could anybody live alone? Am I the only one?

I must make a friend. A real sister, someone I can talk to, someone who won’t speak in the condescending voice of a pained mother. I need a friend like this. Young Michael acts sweetly to my parents, but when they turn their backs he pulls my hair and takes my carrots. Why must he take my carrots?

I don’t need Michael. Or his carrots.

THREE

I have started making my friend. she is a girl. Her name will be Sarah, or Jane. I don’t want a boy friend. I don’t like boys very much. Michael is still mean to me.

Sarah or Jane will be nice, and happy, and will not like Michael because if she likes Michael I will have to hate her. If she lives with me in here, it would be not very good, hating her... she will not very much like Michael, I hope. I am allergic to blueberries.

Sarah or Jane will be nice and my friend and will not like blueberries or Michael.

Let me know if it's any good.

Also, here's me fangirling over Sherlock (I mean Moriarty):

Love you, nonexistent readers!