One-Chapter-Fan-Fictions by Bree!
In each chapter, I will write a fan fiction of a different book, such as; The Hunger Games; Harry Potter; (Even! :O!) Twilight (Don't expect it to be flattering), The Host, The Hugger Games (Haha, Teagzi. xD) and possibly others.
When I have finished all chapters that I wish, you all, my readers, get to choose which fan-fiction I continue! (Do I hear wild enthusiasm?)
Comment for your opinion, my faithful readers!
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Mocking Twilight (If I really write a story of this, I promise it will be much more mocking than this. xD)
Unconsciously, she let her shoulders sag as she emerged more deeply into her thoughts. Her Comforter approached her and tapped her shoulder gently. "Citrus Leafs?"
The Soul startled and looked up, the silver ring around her pupils clearly visible in the intense light. "Sorry. I was just thinking," she responded in a soft voice. The human whose body she was using was smart. The memories were vague, but she thought that the girl had been a writer of sorts, though there was the frequent word that dove up in her head every now and then--home schooled.
"How young is my . . . body, exactly?" she asked, curious now. She scratched her arms, where traces of teenage pimples still lingered. Healers had offered to remove them once she got older, but she had refused--it seemed to be part of her, and it would feel like treachery to become flawless.
"I wouldn't know. How long ago have you moved into this host?" her Comforter asked kindly, her brown eyes earnest and sweet--too perfect, like every other Soul. It nearly took the brilliance of things on Earth away.
"Three years ago," she chirped, her heart pounding at the memory. It had been so new to her. The colors, vivid senses--everything. Her host had been strange, too. That much she could sense.
"Your host was sixteen when she donored . . ." Upright Sun mused, brushing her silvery hair aside. She herself was at the ripe age of fifty, and could not seem to understand Citrus Leafs' hormonal responses to everything, including her life on this wild planet. But the girl was not entirely oblivious: she could tell that Upright Sun knew more than she pretended to do.
"Can you tell me about her?" Citrus Leafs insisted.
The Comforter fell silent and walked to her desk. She picked up a file, turned back around and nodded at Citrus Leafs. "Here is her dossier, everything we know about her." She paused and looked at her patient's overly eager, young face. "There isn't much," she added decisively. "I thought you had read it before."
The girl opened the case as soon as she was home, her fingers trembling with anticipation. This was the closest she had ever come to a human being--a file. Her host. For a short moment, she hesitated, but then she turned her hazel eyes to the dossier again enthusiastically. She had read it before, but not with the focus she now possessed--back then, she had merely skimmed through it.
The first thing she noticed was the picture: it was of herself, but then younger. The face had a strange form: square, round, oval and heart-shaped, somehow all at the same time. The mouth was wide and red, giving the camera a grin that revealed yellow, uneven teeth and stretched her olive skin. Two hazel, average eyes were located close to each other, but slight intelligence shimmered in them. A big nose was wedged in between them--freckles scattered around it--and surprisingly long, wavy brown hair clung to her face.
Regret came over Citrus Leafs. The girl seemed to be nice. Of course, she reminded herself, most humans had looked friendly.
"First name," she read out loud, "Anne-Linde."