Writing Sample Themes
THEME
Fantasy
...Hannah almost passes a wardrobe shop. Gazing through the window she could see wooden mannequins dressed in various types of wool clothing with brilliant colors that she had rarely seen before. Taking a step forward, she presses her hand against the glass. Her warm breath fogs up the glass as she eyes a cloak nearly tucked away in the corner of the store. As she pulls away, she gazes up to read the name of the store. "Genevieve's Cloths." Hannah knows she doesn't have any source of currency, but it didn't hurt to get to know some of the witches that resided there at least.
Taking it upon herself, Hannah slowly enters the small shop, welcomed by an aroma of apple spice. The wood creaks beneath her feet and she listens to the tinkling of bells moving along with the closing of the door. "Welcome to Genevieve's Cloths! Oh. It's you." Hannah turns to face a young-looking woman. She's pale - white as snow - with her fiery red hair nearly reaching down towards her knees. The way she smiles reminds Hannah of her own mother. The left corner of her lips lifts upwards while the other is lifted just slightly, almost lopsided. "Me? Do you know me?" Hannah asks, raising a hand to point at herself. "Yes! You're the talk of the town. Well - small town - if you know what I mean. I'm Genevieve. I own this shop, and you are?" Genevieve was very quick with her worlds, head bobbing to every syllable while clasping her hands together. "Oh. Um. Hannah. I'm Hannah. I'm also a witch." There's a short silence before Hannah is brought back with reality. "I'm sorry. I...I don't have any money at all. I just - there's a cloak here that really caught my eye and I just wanted to take a look at it if you don't mind?" Genevieve laugh was whimsical. Her eyes disappear and her pink cheeks rise with innocence...
THEME
Super-
natural
...It's only when she no longer feels Ben against her that she is snapped out of her anxiety, yet it bubbles within. "What's wrong?" she here's him speak and at first, she doesn't turn around. Christine blinks rapidly to do away with the tears that formed near the brim. Tilting her head back, she looks up at the sky and catches sight of the glittering, shimmering stars that were beginning to appear. She shakes her head and chuckles breathlessly, voice hoarse as the lump in her throat grew. "Nothing. It's just -- the stars." She raised her hand and pointed nonchalantly up at the sky. "They're beautiful," she adds softly to herself before looking back down.
Finally, Christine turns around to face him, the corner of her lips raised and eyes glassy, but no longer wet with thick tears. She walks over, just a few steps before carefully taking a seat next to him. There's a moment of silence between them and she could feel his burning gaze watching over her. Her every move, her every expression that washed over her face. Christine felt exposed and vulnerable, and all she wanted to do was hug him and wished she was alive. Alive like him and not this devil-like being meant to kill. The universe wasn't fair. The universe was cruel in every way possible. Taking a deep breath, Christine slowly lips her hands around his arm and leans in to rest her head against his shoulder, hugging his limb...