a storybook life

Song of Sirens

The Storybook: The Little Mermaid

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 8,815

Sequel to Kiss of Life


It was one eventful night that had changed everything.

If you hadn’t placed yourself on that ship sailing back home from the capital, then you wouldn’t have experienced your first mermaid attack. If your ship hadn’t been a victim of those carnivorous creatures, then you wouldn’t have been knocked overboard into the middle of the chilling sea. If you hadn’t lost your battle with the overpowering waves, then Taehyung would have never found you in your descent to your watery grave.

With one kiss, he had granted you a second wind.

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#excerpt from a book I'll never write

What does that truly mean? Exactly what it sounds like. You can only be given so many bread crumbs in travelling the path of a loaf.

You could cast shadows to your own pages. You could decide who brings light and who brings right to the villains. You could have the power to bind characters, find boons to be assitance in your grandest quest, and define the contexts and textures and texts. Most importantly, when you feel it is necessary, you can put down a bookmark and pick up where you last left. It may never seem likely, but there will always be a place for a book mark in your own story.

This story is capable of touching hearts without hitting shelves. You are storyteller and story; documentary and document.

Kiss of Life

The Storybook: The Little Mermaid

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 8,598

Sequel: Song of Sirens


The sky was clear of clouds and full of stars as you sailed across the night ocean to return back home.

You had spent some time in the capital nearby, having gone to visit your father before he set off on another one of his lengthy excursions. Like many others in this region, he was a travelling merchant who spent a good number of his days out in the open sea. There weren’t many other options when it came to finding a steady job, other than being a fisherman, but seeing as how you lived in a small port city, it was to be expected.

After managing to successfully hitch a ride on this 30-crew ship, you now found yourself nearing the end of your trip as the sailors on board made the announcement that you would arrive at the docks by sunrise. So far everything was smooth sailing, quite literally, as you sat alone inside the musty crew quarters. You didn’t feel the need to go to sleep whereas the rest of the crew didn’t feel the need to call for your assistance on deck, not that you minded; you would much rather sit back and enjoy the free ride.

Out of nowhere, you suddenly felt the ship jolt to one side. You were keen on brushing it off as the vessel hitting a particularly rocky wave, since you had been on a fair share of excursions yourself, but then you heard a rising commotion outside before the boat jerked in the same direction with an unnaturally greater force.

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A human life is a collection of stories, and we are all authors. We write and we write from the moment we are born until we take our last breath, hoping and praying that we won’t just become another book on a shelf. Some of our stories are long and grand and scrawled out in large, grandiose letters for the whole world to see, while some are small notes tucked between pages that tell of stolen glances and kisses on cheeks. Some have covers made of sunshine and gold, but whose words create storms inside our minds and tear out our hearts as easily as a page; some are held together by paper clips and tape and fashion beautiful stories that are barely sweet whispers and unheard melodies in the symphony of life. The human world is made up of stories, and we are all writers that use different letters to construct different narratives, yet we all have the same goal: for someone to hear our shout in the void and decide that our story is worth reading, maybe even worth telling. So the way I see it, you can spend your life waiting for an adventure to carry you off with the current, or you can pick up a pen and write one for yourself, and never stop writing for a single moment.
—  Keep Writing Stories
It just so happens that in the storybook that is life there are two characters: the heartbreaker and the heartbroken. And it is a sobering truth that sometimes you are one or the other and sometimes you are both.
—  It Is a Great, Big World // lily rose.
Drabble: First Impressions

Happy Klaroweek! This is for Day 1: Beginnings. I’m fascinated by Klaus and Caroline’s first because they barely acknowledge each other, share literally one glance. So I wrote an alternate ending to the scene. Enjoy!

***

Seeing Klaus for the first time was like seeing a storybook monster come to life. Caroline had known about the Original Hybrid for months now. He was the enemy, the alien, the Big Bad. In her mind’s eye, he wasn’t a person, he was a list of all the horrible things he’d done: Kill Aunt Jenna, take Stefan away, turn Stefan into a Ripper, kidnap her and Tyler, kill fleets of humans and werewolves up and down the East Coast, slaughter Katherine’s entire family after she ran…His victims extended an entire millenia.

But she’d never pictured what he’d looked like. Actually, that may not have been true because Caroline was surprised when she saw Klaus for the first time. She hadn’t pictured him to be that young. He appeared to have been turned at around 25, barely a man. His body lean, as well, not the muscular hulk she’d expected.

But when Klaus walked into that lab room on Senior Prank Night, Caroline was barely able to register him. She should have recoiled in horror. She didn’t though because she was busy stroking Tyler’s back reassuringly. Her boyfriend was about to die. That was the thought in the back of her mind as she tried to keep her composure. Her one goal was to keep Tyler sane before his inevitable end. An end brought about, again, by Klaus, for his hybrid experiment.

There eyes met for millisecond. His face gave nothing away. Thinking back on it, Klaus could have been completely calm or incredibly grim. Or maybe Caroline hadn’t learned how to read Klaus yet. Either way, she was disconcerted, not knowing whether Klaus being pleased was good for Tyler or not.

But Caroline wasn’t Klaus’s focus. He didn’t look at her once as she screamed and fought against Rebekah, who stopped her from going to help Tyler. They forced her to watch as Tyler drank Elena’s blood and fell to the floor in pain. Then it was all over and Tyler lay in the fetal position, panting hard, but very much alive.

Klaus was laughing. As Caroline to terms with her boyfriend becoming something she’d always thought she’d be able to protect him from, Klaus smiled from ear to ear victoriously. “Go show my new hybrid how to feed properly,” he said, as if tasting his triumph on his tongue.

Rebekah finally released her and Caroline stumbled forward, steadying herself against a lab table. As Rebekah grabbed Tyler’s bicep, hoisted him up, and practically dragged him out of the room, Caroline began to follow them.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” said Klaus, still in that chillingly calm voice. Caroline froze, watching as Tyler and Rebekah exited into the hall, leaving Klaus and Caroline alone.

Caroline’s head whipped around and she glares at him defiantly. “My boyfriend has just turned into a vampire and you’re telling to let your psychopath of a sister explain how vampires feed?!” she exclaimed angrily. She was a lot angrier than she should have been in front of the most dangerous creature on the planet but, in that moment, she didn’t care.

For the first time ever, Klaus observed her carefully, leaning his head to the side like a curious stray. It made Caroline’s hair stand on its ends. “You shouldn’t talk to me in that way love. You may wound me.” His voice was mocking but he subtly showed her his fangs.

She tried to appeal to him. “Look, I know how to get him to feed properly. He’ll listen to me. I just don’t want him to end up like…” She trailed off.

“Like the Rippah,” Klaus finished, relishing the word. Caroline nodded but said nothing. “Besides,” Klaus continued, “You’re a baby vampire. There’s nothing you can teach him that Rebekah can’t.”

There was a playful challenge to his words.But Caroline was in no mood to play. “Humanity,” she stated evenly. “I can show him how to avoid the guilt of killing someone because you couldn’t control yourself.” She was looking not at Klaus now, but at the car park, where just a few months ago she’d killed for the first and only time. “I helped him through his transitions every full moon for months. I can help him through this,” she concluded.

Klaus’ eyes bore into the side of her head, as if trying to pierce through her soul. He had an odd expression, and Caroline could swear she saw admiration there. It disappeared so quickly she could have sworn she’d imagined it. “But he’s my hybrid,” he said, hardening. “He needs a taste of the warm blood running through the vein. And he needs to be able to kill to survive.” He smiled at her patronisingly. “Now run along, we wouldn’t my new hybrid to miss his girl, would we?”

Caroline didn’t have to be told twice. She rushed out of the room after Tyler as if the devil were after her. She wondered if she’d managed to change his mind or if he just wanted to get rid of a nuisance.

So, yeah Klaus wasn’t what she’d expected.

***
Klaus didn’t think much about his first hybrid’s girlfriend at first. In fact, he told himself he couldn’t even remember her name. But a few days later, in hotel on the way find more hybrids he began to sketch absentmindedly.

When he looked down, there she was. Big, fierce blue eyes, blonde hair like the sun, body like a dream, and smile curved on her face. And her name, Caroline, written in the bottom left-hand corner, mocking him.

6

Phillip Lorca DiCorcia’s 2003 project “A storybook life” is a series of 76 photographs spanning over thirty years, showing scenes of domesticity pulled from his own experiences developed into  complex, fairytale-like depictions of the world as he knew it. Most of the models are members of his own circle of family and friends.

I think this series is brilliant. There is a kind of static in many of the photos that leaves you with so many questions- why this image? What role does it play in the larger scheme of things?

STORYBOOK OF LIFE.

From far across the ocean
you speak to me each day
and the words that are not spoken
mean more than words can say.

From a tiny seed we planted,
grows a friendship meant to last
and the companionship you granted, 
tales of present and the past.

And the words just flow so sweetly ,
of our past and distant youth,
and we lose ourselves completely
in our fantasies and truth.

And who knows what the future holds,
who knows what lies in wait,
as the storybook of life unfolds,
the unread pages hold our fate.


Scattered Thoughts