Mycheille has a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing for Entertainment, as well as a Master of Science degree in Instructional Design & Technology, from Full Sail University. She has been writing since she was a child.
Today, I woke up with butterflies in my stomach, and hope in my heart as I opened the internet browser on my phone and typed in “Vocal/Challenges”. I’d been impatiently waiting for days to find out the results of the Dystopian “Doomsday Diary” Challenge. I’d submitted four stories, with one in particular that I was so excited about. So, as I skimmed down the page to the recent winners, my exuberant smile started to dim as the reality hit: I didn’t win… again. I read the winning story and it was indeed fantastic, but there was still a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes when I realized it wasn’t mine.
The Seer & the Dark Ones
I felt it first—the cold, chilling feeling that precedes the Dark Ones. I felt it once before when I was a youngling. Usually, as a youngling, you are never allowed to be alone because the Dark Ones are drawn to innocence, to purity. We were all assigned Protectors, and mine had been considered one of the most prestigious of all the others—but I didn’t like being watched. Even being born into the knowledge of constant protection, as a child I still couldn’t help but lack the understanding of why I was being surrounded all the time. It didn’t help that I was protected more thoroughly than all other younglings.
I feel the nerves bubble in my chest along with the anguish and regret. I shouldn’t be here with these overly hopeful people lined up for their chance at winning a coveted spot in the Oath Competition. Everyone knows it’s a gamble of life and death if your name is picked… because the vetting process for the Oath includes a lethal cocktail that kills 99% of those who take it. It doesn’t change the fact that thousands of people happily put their name into the mix, hoping their time has come and that they will the ‘lottery’ that can change their lives. I always thought that this was just the easy way for the New Monarchy to remove large sections of the population… a weeding out process, if you will.
So, She Wandered off the Path
Once upon a time, there was a little girl that everyone called Little Red. She was incredibly sweet, but had a tendency to wander off without permission. Her mother asked her to take a basket of sweets to her grandmother who lived deep in the woods. Little Red excitedly agreed, but her mother warned her to stay on the path and to not wander off as a wolf had been seen in the forest. Little Red agreed and hurried off on her journey.
The Varnd Experience
The process should have been over in two minutes—but he didn’t stop screaming… Tynan didn’t believe me when I told him to hold it back, to pretend not to feel the pain, pretend your skin didn’t feel as if it were being peeled off of you, pretend not to hear the lies as they seeped deep into your soul, taking hold on the gentlest parts of you…
They aren’t around, but I feel their greedy eyes on me, deciding my future. I’m alone… but for how long? I hear the buzz of an aircraft above, tirelessly searching for the lost prize. I hide in the little hovel I discovered in the middle of the night before the search began.
The Art of Joy
I stared at the image on Pinterest with the tree cutout on canvas. It was painted black with just a hint of pink scattered on the edges of the frame. I’d been painting for two years, but it was always just for me, nothing professional level, not like this sort of project. It was beautiful, but was it above my abilities?
The Greatest Warrior of All Time
She should be wearing a cape. She should have a light that shines bright with her emblem on it whenever she’s needed.