A Story

Hey, readers!

Today I reckoned I'd share with y'all a yet-to-be-named story that I started writing a few months back. 

Ok, so, it's basically this Christina sifi-romance that takes place in a made-up world that is still called Earth The story is about this girl named Christine who's been "cursed" by the devil. In an attempt to stop Lucifer, Gabriel and Death both put their essence in to new born boys. In an attempt to stop them, Lucifer puts his essence into a new born boy as well. 
The boys end up with extraordinary powers that they have yet to actually discover. 
Anyway, when they discover their powers, they're each given a mission by their "essence"--Death, Gabriel, and Lucifer. They have to unlock Christine's power and use it for the essence's good (or, what the essence stands for).
Anyway, they each end up falling in love with Christine, and the boy with Gabriel's essence teaches her about God and brings her to Christianity, and her powers--which where already slowly appearing--are now growing every other day, it seems.
There's a twist ending that I'm not going to reveal, because I know some of my friends hate spoilers.

Anyway, here it is! Comment your thoughts, please :)

(My apologies for any typos, misusage of words, and whatnot)


Our Story Begins

The cloudless night sky shone brightly that summer’s night. Petals from a blossoming pear tree blew about in the cool breeze.
All throughout Carivale, there was a silent sort of anxiousness. For, on this day, there was to be held a meeting between the three ancients; Death, Lucifer, and Gabriel.
A black wisp swirled through the graveyard, like a cloud of utter darkness. From it emerged a tall, slim figure in a long, hooded robe. In his pale right hand he held a scythe. As Death walked down the cobblestone road, everyone came away from their windows and rushed to their elderly, praying to God that He would keep Death from taking them.
Next to a stripper establishment, a section of the cobblestone path began glowing red. The path began to melt, and from it a figure of red came. He wore a red suit with black shoes and red gloves. His crisp black hair was silky and well-kept, and his red eyes had narrow slits as pupils, much like a cat’s. On his back, two red, scaly wings fluttered before lying still. As Lucifer emerged from the alley, all the citizens hiding the church burst out in silent prayers.
In the church, a white-marble statue began to crack, and--with a single movement--all the brittle marble cracked and fell off, and a figure with large white wings like that of a dove’s stepped off the the pedestal. A bright light shone around him, as to make his face unvisible. The priest gasped and lowered his head, swiftly repeating a scripture in Latin under his breath. As Gabriel walked down the hall of the church, his white robes blew slightly behind him, as if there was a light breeze. He walked straight through the oak doors of the church.
The three ancients, each feared in their own way, met on a hilltop just outside the town.
“Death, Gabriel,” Lucifer said in a sly, slightly high voice as he let out a sweeping bow. “So nice to see you both, just delightful.” He smiled to reveal a mouthful of white, pointed teeth.
“Don’t pretend like you’re happy to be here, Lucifer,” A deep voice emitted from Death’s hood.
“We have an important matter to discuss.” Gabriel nodded, his voice smooth and soft.
“Don’t you think I know that, you puppet?” Lucifer frowned at the angel.
“You mean that as an offense, satan,” Gabriel said, his expression still calm. “But I take it as a complement, for I am indeed a puppet of the LORD. Although, I prefer to think of myself as a vessel made of clay, with God being the potter.”
“Your righteous ideas are sickening,” Lucifer spat.
A strong gust of wind blew by, hitting only Lucifer. It left his tie undone.
“We are still in His presence, Lucifer. He is still in control of you, even if you betrayed Him.” Gabriel said.
Lucifer's eyes flashed with fury, but he kept silent as he fixed his tie.
“Shall we discuss why we’re actually here?” Death said after a moment, making sure not to interrupt their quarrel.
He didn’t really care for Lucifer or Gabriel, but Death showed respect, knowing that--even though the three’s power were almost equal--his was the least strongest.
“Yes, I suppose we ought to begin.” Lucifer said, snapping his fingers.
In front of them, the hazy form of a grandly dressed woman and a man appeared.
“Alice and Alfred. Cruel and crueler. The most unholy Queen and King to have ever ruled this land.” Death said, gazing at the mirage.
“And, tonight, we are here to discuss their punishment.” Gabriel nodded solemnly.
“I say they get doomed to Hell.” Lucifer said.
“And, I fear that you shall get that… I see no hope of salvation in them.” Gabriel sighed.
“They gave me thousands of people in their wars, many long before it was their time.” Death said quietly. “I think they should be overthrown.”
“Hm…” Gabriel pondered this. “Perhaps… that might be a better option…”
“So, they should be overthrown in a month’s time--” with a hand gesture, Lucifer made the two figures be chased away by the hazy image of troops. “--and be replaced by Alfred’s son, a--bleck--kind boy.”
A new image appeared, that of a young man being coronated.
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Death said.
“But, of course, when the current king and queen die, I still get their souls…?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Gabriel said.
“And, Death, do you agree with this plan?” Lucifer inquired.
Death’s hood made a movement, it’s version of a nod.
“Then, by all means, let us sign.” Lucifer pulled out a roll of parchment.
Gabriel signed with one of his own feathers, and Death merely touched the parchment with his scythe, causing his name to appear.
“And, thus,” Lucifer said, signing his own name. “We have a deal.”
The parchment glowed red, then vanished.
Gabriel slowly turned towards Lucifer, glaring. “If that was a true pact of what we had agreed upon, it would have glowed blue before vanishing into time.”
“So?” Lucifer blinked innocently.
What did you do?” Gabriel clenched his fists.
“Oh, you know, just the basics… doomed their majesties’ kid, too, as a result of their sin.” Lucifer smirked.
“In what form with the soon-to-be-new-king’s doom come?” Death asked after a moment of silence.
“Through Jezebel,” Lucifer waved his hand, and a graceful figure with long, raven curls waltzed up to the mirage of the new king, kissing his cheek. “His soon-to-be wife.” Lucifer giggled. “Oh, but I didn’t stop there! Heavens, no!”
“What else did you do?” Gabriel said.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lucifer basked in the glory of having tricked the two other ancients.
“Lucifer…” Gabriel warned.
“Oh, well, something’s going to happen to their daughter, when they have one. Something that will change my fate. This, my friends, is gonna be a tide-changer.” Lucifer cackled. “And you--” he pointed to Gabriel. “--as well as you--” he pointed towards Death. “--with loose your power due to a pure heart. Ironic, right?” He winked at Gabriel.
Demonic creatures swirled all around them, and the ground shook, before forming a staircase leading into the ground, hot as an inferno.
Death held his scythe in a battle position, and Gabriel summoned the sword of God’s word.
“Well, I’d love to stay and play,” Lucifer said as he walked towards the stairs, waving over his shoulder. “But I’ve got business to attend to.”
He let out a cackle, that--just like his voice--was rather high. Lucifer then snapped, and all the demons flew down the stairs in a rush, and the stairs disappeared, leaving nothing but a burnt mark on the ground.
“I cannot let this come to pass,” Death muttered under his breath, then turned and disappeared into the wind. A flower next to where he had stood wilted away.
Gabriel looked up to the sky, and--though you couldn’t tell--a troubled expression was on his face. A bright shaft of light like a beam fell upon him, and...as the light vanished...so did Gabriel.
And their was silence in the night, leaving one curious as to whether the event had ever taken place.
But, little did the relieved townsfolk know that the essence of the ancients still hovered close by.
For, in a neighboring country called Meddleton, a male child was born to the duke and duchess. But, unfortunately, his mother died while giving birth. The baby--with skin quite pale--was named Benjamin, for his father was a religious man, and thought that it would be fitting, seeing as his wife’s name was Rachel. Grief would linger in the house, for Benjamin seemed to bring death wherever he went.
And, at the same time Benjamin was born, there was born a boy in a country called Dailfree to the king and queen. The king and queen were elderly, and the queen had been barren, so they had lost all hope of having a child… let alone a son. He was named John, and happiness followed him all his days.
Then, across the sea, in a country named Portsveil, a newly born boy was place on the steps of an orphanage. When he was found, he was named Anthony. As he grew up, he became mischievous and sinnful. He stole, cheated, lied, and picked on people. The people who knew him often said he had the devil in him.

And, thus, our story begins.

Chapter One
The Lancy’s

The king of Carivale, William, had declared the entire month of May as celebrate the 17 year anniversary of overthrowing his cruel parents and becoming the new king, his 17 year anniversary of being married, as well as his daughter’s 15th birthday.
So, the maids, servants, and butlers were scurrying around, rushing to get their chores done.
Queen Jezebel, a beauty but a pagan, woke before her husband and ate a hurried breakfast before having the maids dress her for the grand day.
The King--who is still a decent king, even though his wife was able to make him believe in her religion--awoke soon after, had a bath, and was quickly dressed.
“Good morning, dearest,” The King kissed his wife’s cheek as they hurried out of their room and towards the throne room.
“Good morning, love,” The Queen replied, lifting her skirts ever so slightly as to run faster.
They burst into the throne room and rushed to their seats, then smoothed their outfits before sitting.
“How do I look?” Jezebel asked her husband.
“Radiant. And, I?”
“Ravishing.” Jezebel grinned.
“Your majesty,” A servant rushed up. “Peasants are lining up outside to give you their blessings, the troops are all ready to declare their loyalty, and a messenger had just come back saying that our guests from other places around the world will be arriving any time from a few hours to tomorrow.”
“Splendid, splendid… let them in, please.” The king waved his hand.
The servant nodded, then rushed started to rush off...
“Wait!” The queen rose to her feet.
“What is it, darling?” William also rose to his feet, looking at his wife in concern.
“Where’s Christine?!”

“Your highness, I must insist that you get up!” Olga, the head lady in waiting, moaned.
“I’m sleepy… I can get up later…” Princess Christine mumbled, turning over onto her side in her grand bed.
“But… but… Princess! You must get up now!” Olga urged.
“No, I mustn’t,” Christine huffed, turning onto her stomach and face planting into the pillow.
“Yes, you must!”
“Wha must ah?” Christine said, face still planted in the pillow.
“Because, today is the day!”
“The day…?”
“Oh… Oh. OH!” Christine jumped up, sending herself flying off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.
She quickly jumped to her feet. “Someone, fetch me a biscuit! Butter, with strawberry spread! And, Olga, get me dressed!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Olga and the other maids ran about, getting slippers, petticoats, and whatnot.
In just a few minutes, Christine--still 14--was running down the secret corridor that led to the throne room at top speed, a biscuit sticking out of her mouth, and her hands lifting her dress above her knees.
She turned the corner and practically ran into the door that led to right next to the thrones.
“Princess!” The guard bowed, then opened the door.
Christine put her dress down and used a hand to shove the biscuit into her mouth, and the other hand to smooth down her dress.
She then ran through the doorway, and quickly made her way to her seat, ignoring the shocked looks on her parents faces.
“Hello, dad. Hello, mum.” Christine said after she had swallowed the biscuit.
“You’re practically late!” Her father whisper-shouted to her as a butler announced the names of a few peasants.
“Yes, well, sorry about that.” Christine whispered back.
“My, my, that Olga…”
“Actually, mum, she tried to wake my many times, but I wasn’t budging. I had, um… forgotten what day it was…” Christine said the last part in an even quieter whisper.
Her parents couldn’t gasp, for right then the peasants began streaming into the room, forming a line.

The royal family spent the next few hours smiling, waving, nodding, thanking, and accepting knights’ pledges of loyalty.
When they had finished with the knights and peasants, the royals walked to a drawing room for a private lunch before they had to greet their high ranking visitors, who would be arriving soon.
As they walk, let me formally introduce our characters.
King William Richard Lancy is tall and dashing. At 38, his chestnut-brown hair has only one gray streak. He has brown eyes, and short lashes. His hands are slightly big, but he can still use them gracefully. He is currently wearing a navy-blue suit, suited with white gloves and shiny black shoes. A gold crown with gems sits upon his head.
Queen Jezebel Anne Lancy has long, glossy, raven-colored curls with a few strands of silver, due to her age of 37. Her eyes are emerald-green, and they shine like stars. She had a lovely figure as well, and her sense of fashion is glorious. Seeing as it is an important occasion, her outfit currently consists of a dark purple dress with slightly puffy over-the-shoulder sleeves, and a ruffly skirt. The chest and torso area are sprinkles with diamonds. Her heeled slippers are the same purple as her dress, and her to-the-elbow gloves are white. A golden tiara with rubies lays on her hair.
Seeing as she’s the main character--of the Lancy’s, anyway--, Princess Christine Marie Lancy get’s the most detailed description. She is, as we know, 14-going-on-15, and quite lively. At 5-and-a-half-feet, she’s the shortest person in her family (shorter than her father by a good foot, and shorter than her mother by three inches). Like her father, her torso-length curls are chestnut-brown, but she has her mother’s shining emerald eyes. She has a bit rounder build than her mother, but she’s still fairly skinny. A light sprinkle of freckles covers her cheeks. She is currently in a sleeveless, sky-blue dress, which has a puffy skirt. The chest and torso area of the dress are fitted with diamonds, just like her mother's dress. Her heeled slippers are a slightly darker blue, for she misplaced the ones that went with the dress. Her white gloves go to the elbow, as most women’s gloves do. A silver tiara sat on her hair, with diamonds on certain areas. Oh, and she’s currently being scolded by her mother as they walked.
“How on earth could you forget that it’s May 1st today? Honestly! We spent all last month talking about how grand it would be.” The Queen fumed as she gracefully floated down the hall.
“Well, I’m sorry! It just slipped my mind before I went to bed, I guess,” Christine said, walking gracefully with good posture.
“What could you have been doing to make you forget such a momentous occasion?” The King questioned, taking long strides.
“Uhm… Well…” Christine twirled her hair. “I was taking a bath because I had gotten dirty in the garden while digging for garden trolls--”
“While doing WHAT?” The Queen gasped.
“--and I guess that in the bath I was so preoccupied with the deformed, dead one I found, that the date of tomorrow...or, today, I suppose...slipped my mind.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait. You found a dead, deformed troll in our garden?” The King stared at his daughter as if she had grown two heads.
“Yes. It was pink and fleshy, and it was sort of hunched over, and it had a long nose and a tail,” Christine said.
“Oh, Christy!” The King groaned. “That was a dead baby mole!”
“Really?” Christine turned her head to stare at her father.
“Don’t tell me you touched it!” The Queen pleaded.
“Oh, I didn’t have time to; Angelo was with me, and he scooped up the thing and ran off with it. I think he ate it, because when I found him he had blood all over his snout, and I couldn’t find the tr--the mole anywhere.”
Angelo is a large mastiff that an aunt had given Christine on her 12th birthday while it was still a pup.
“Jezebel,” William addressed his wife as if their daughter wasn’t there. “How come our daughter is perfectly ladylike and graceful when she needs to be, yet she’s so tomboyish and and childish outside of other’s presence?”
“Hey! I’m not childish!” Christine gasped in offense.
“I couldn’t say, William,” Jezebel responded to her husband. “But she must have gotten it from your side. I’ve never believed in trolls and whatnot.”
“But, trolls ARE real! So are fairies! Pixies! Orges!” Christine shouted indignantly, stopping to stamp her foot.
William and Jezebel shared a laugh as Christine fell behind, still naming the things that she believed were real.

Chapter Two
A Boy in the Garden

“Presenting his grace Richard Alexander Featherfield, Duke of Meddleton.”
The Lancy’s had eaten and were sitting on their thrones, welcoming upper class people.
“Welcome to Carivale,  your grace.” The King said kindly.
“Thank you for having me, your majesty. As I was traveling here, I noticed how lovely your country is. And, might I add that your family is quite lovely, too.” The Duke of Meddleton, a jolly old man, said.
“Thank you so very much, your grace.” The Queen said, smiling.
Christine also smiled at him, though said nothing.
“I’ve already been to my quarters of your castle--it’s quite a big, pretty castle, might I add...very big--and I enjoy them. Thank you very much!” Richard said, his smile shining to his eyes.
“You’re very welcome. But, now, tell me… what ever happened to Christopher Philip Featherfield?” The Queen enquired curiously.
“Ah, yes,” The old man looked sad for a moment. “My elder brother’s only son. Well, as you probably know, your highness, my brother was assassinated quite a while ago. And, his already married son took the title ‘Duke of Meddleton’. Well, while giving birth, his wife died. That left him in grief for the longest time, and he died on while riding a horse just a few months back. So, I was proclaimed Duke.”
“Oh, my! I’m very sorry to hear it. Christopher was a good man.” The King said.
“Indeed,” Richard’s smile returned. “And, he was a believer of Jesus Christ, so one day I’ll see him again.”
The room went silent, and the King and Queen’s smiles became stiff. Christine frowned.
“Who’s this ‘Jesus Christ’ person?” She asked.
Richard’s eyes went wide. “You mean, you don't…? Oh! Right!” He added under his breath, “This country believes in Zebul!” He rose his voice to it’s normal pitch again. “My apologies, your majesty. I humblgy beg your pardon.”
The King smiled pleasantly again, no longer bothered by the name of the God he used to believe in. “You have my pardon.”
“Wait, dad. I’m still confused. Who’s Jesus Chri--”
“Sweetie,” Her mother interrupted her. “I’m sure the Duke would take no offense if you went out…?” She glanced at the Duke, who nodded.
“Well… alright…” Christine stood up slowly, curtsied, then took her leave.

“Hm. Wonder what that duke was talking about.” Christine said as she wandered through the gardens, having escaped her ladies-in-waiting.
Angelo, who was following her with that stupidly-happy look that dogs get sometimes on his face, barked.
“I’m going to pretend,” Christine declared. “That you just said he looks a lot like Santa Claus, and I wholeheartedly agree with you.”
Angelo barked and bounded off. He returned in a matter of seconds with a stick in his mouth.
Christine took the stick from him, reared her arm back, then hurled the stick across the garden.
Angelo took off, barking as he ran after the stick, which had gone over a hedge or two.
Christine sat down and began picking dandelions.
But, a few minutes later, Angelo had yet to return with the stick.
“Angelo? Angelo! Here, boy!”
Upon no response of any kind--no bark, no howl, no dog bounding towards her--, Christine rose to her feet and began searching the garden for her dog.
She rounded the corner… and ran smack into someone, causing her to stumble backwards, start to fall.
“Gah!” Out of habit, she reached out and grabbed the stranger, as to balance herself.
“Ah!” The person stumbled back, pulling Christine back to her feet.
“Mhmm, there we go…” Christine smoothed her dress and recentered her crown before looking at the stranger. “Thanks much.”
The boy she had ran into stared at her in shock.
His face made him look to be about a year or so older than her… but, he was tall (Christine had to look upwards to see his face, and he had to look downwards to see hers). The boy wore fine clothes--a red-velvet coat with tails...probably over a white blouse…, along with beige pants, and black shoes that appeared to just have been shined--, and his gray eyes had the slightest hint of green. The color of his well-groomed hair reminded Christine of Angelo’s tan fur. And, strangely enough, his skin was pale as death.
“Do you have a fever?”
The boy stared, his eyes still wide, and his mouth still clamped shut.
“Speak up, man. Do you have a fever? You’re quite pale.”
“No.” He said quietly.
“‘No’, as in I-don’t-have-a-fever ‘no’?”
The boy nodded.
“Hmm. Odd. Anyway, have you seen a dog?” Christine asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking around.
“A dog…?”
“Yes, a dog. He’s big, and has lots of wrinkles. His fur’s a tannish-blonde color, like your hair… except for his snout. That’s black.” Christine said. “Oh, and, he’s really big.”
“Um… was this dog chasing a stick?” The boy asked. Christine noticed that his voice was deep and smooth, which didn’t quite match his nervous behavior.
“Yeah, he was! Have you seen him?” Christine said anxiously.
“Um, yeah, this… ‘large’ woman came out and brought him into the castle.” The boy turned his gaze towards the castle.
“Was the woman fat-large, or tall-large?” Christine inquired.
The boy was momentarily stunned by her bluntness. “Um… she’s a tad bit overweight.”
“Ah, that’d be Olga. Ok, Angelo’s fine… that’s the dog’s name, Angelo.” Christine eyed him. “Who are you, exactly?”
“Umm,” The boy looked about nervously, as if expecting someone to burst in and kidnap him the second his name was spoken.
“Ok, I guess I’ll go first.” Christine put her hands to her sides and stood in a graceful posture. “My name is Christine Marie Lancy the 1st, Princess of Carivale, daughter of King William Richard Lancy and Queen Jezebel Anne Lancy. It’s nice to meet you.” She curtsied, ignoring his eyes grow even wider. “And, what’s your name?”
“Benjamin.” The boy said after a moment of horror upon realizing who he’d run into.
“Benjamin? Benjamin… who?” Christine asked.
“Oh! Are you terribly shy? Yes, I suppose that must be it. Or, perhaps you’re claustrophobic. The space between these hedges is really thin. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and began walking out of the garden area.
He walked with her, though he stared at the back of her head while trying to process what had just happened.
“If you’re thinking I’m the strangest girl in the world,” Christine said, sensing him staring at her. “You’re mistaken. Strangest Princess, well, that’s up for consideration, but…”
“I wasn’t thinking that, your highness,” Benjamin said.
“Oh? Really? Well, that’s nice of you.” Christine said as they exited the garden area and stood by the castle. “Here we are!” She dropped his hand, then spun around a few times. “Fresh air! Does this help your claustrophobic shyness, Benjamin?”
“I’m neither claustrophobic, nor shy. I’m just used to being ignored, and I don’t like giving my personal information to strangers.” Benjamin said.
“Ignored? Who in their right minds would ignore you?” Christine asked.
“Pardon?” Benjamin blinked.
“Well, you’re skin is pale as death, for one. People ought to inquire about your health for it, even if you’re perfectly fine. And, your eyes are quite pretty. Plus, you’re so very tall. How old are you, anyway?”
“I’ll be 17 next Thursday.” Benjamin declared.
“Today is Wednesday, so... that’s just over a week away. Well, happy early birthday, Benjamin.”
Benjamin almost dropped his jaw, but refrained, remembering etiquette.
“What?” Christine blinked.
“No one's wished me a happy birthday for 6 years.” Benjamin said.
“What?! Why ever not?” Christine gasped.
Benjamin’s jaw was firmly set, and Christine could tell he had no intention of telling.
“Hm. Alright, then. Oh, by the way, upon closer inspection, I notice that your eyes have circles around them. Did you not sleep well last night?”
“Tell me, Princess,” Benjamin blurted. “Do you inquire about every blessed human’s well being upon meeting them?”
“Can’t say I do. Is that a bad thing? I probably ought to start…”
Christine turned her head to see Olga about 30 yards out, marching towards her.
“Hm. Seems I’d better be going.” Christine frowned at Olga, then turned and smiled at Benjamin. “Farewell, Benjamin whatever-your-last-name-is.”
“My name is Benjamin Dale Featherfield.” Benjamin declared.
“Oh! You’re the duke’s son!” Christine nodded, then let out a smile so warm and kind that Benjamin felt the sensation of drowning for a moment. “It was nice to meet you, I hope to see you again.”
She then turned and began running towards her lady-in-waiting.
“I look forward to seeing you again, as well, your highness!”
Christine looked over her shoulder, but Benjamin had disappeared.
Smiling, she looked ahead again. Finally, she had met someone else of a high rank that was a tad abnormal.

Chapter 3
The Prince of Dailfree

“Ouch! Ow!” Christine gasped in pain as Olga brushed her hair.
“You’re about to greet royalty, Princess, you need to look your best.” Olga said through her teeth as she yanked the brush through Christine’s knots. “My word, child, what were you doing in that garden?! Your hair was just fine earlier!”


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