http://slow.writerscafe.org/brunettedixie The original writings of author Abby Fontana en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776043703 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  “This is it?” Ginny asked, gazing up at our “new” home.    I do stress the sarcastic part where I said “new”.  The house in front of us was old and in need of some serious TLC.  It was big, yes, but it didn’t look like it could.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1410014/    Rueben took Carson to a doctor that workedin a hospital in NYC that worked for the White Order.  He got a private room that was accessibleonly by the doctor, that way no one would go poking around and find out thatCarson wasn’t exactly hu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1409994/    No one had prepped me for what I wouldexperience during the transition between locations.  Honestly, I hadn’t thought to ask,either.  As both of my feet breeched thethreshold, it was as if I was in a dream. Everything was around.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1407303/    Gameday (hopefully).   I stared at myself in the mirror and preparedmyself as I looked my clothes over. Ginny had brought me new armor early this morning, but I had procrastinatedand just now slipped it on two hours later.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1406932/    “Is that a Monet. . .?” Carson tilted hishead to the side.  I did the same.   The painting on the wall of one of the many roomsdefinitely looked famous.  It was of alone tree, it’s limbs dead and drooping.&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1406931/    The sunlight breaking through the windows woke meup in the morning.  I squinted at thelight as it came through, briefly forgetting where I was.   Then ithit me.  Everything that happenedyesterday smacked into me like a ton of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1406876/    The hotel was cleaner and smelled better than Iremembered.  Some point in between nowand the time we had camped out here before, when the Watchers attacked myhouse, someone had come in and did some renovating, no doubt knowing that wewould need.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1404365/    When I woke up the next morning, I blinked hard,trying to unblur my vision.  I glanced atthe clock " 7:34.  Sunlight was already streaminginto my room from the balcony window, lighting everything up ten timesbrighter.  I squinted at m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1404362/    The scene in front of me was completelynormal, but there was something about it that was different.  Lunch had always been a bit dull.  I mean, who wasn’t sluggish when you had toget up at the ungodly hour we all had to? But this ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403954/    I sent a roundhouse kick towardsRueben’s head for the thousandth time. He blocked it, sending me twirling to the ground with a painfulthump.     “This isn’t the movies.  If you’re heavily outnumbere.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403942/    I didn’twant to wake up the next morning after my fight with Ronnie, but Rueben camebarging in at 6 am sharp for my training session.  He was wearing the usual long sleeved blackshirt, so I couldn’t see his arms that I knew had to loo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403545/    I tried,but Rueben wouldn’t let me out of training that night.  I had wanted to go with Ginny and Irene intoNorth Brunswick, because apparently the house was located on the skirts of thetown, but Rueben had grabbed my arm and tugged me into.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403543/    Trainingwas brutal.  Seriously, it was the mostintense week of my entire existence on this planet.  Rueben had me moving body parts I didn’t evenknow I had, in combinations I would have never thought could be deadly towhoever I was h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403542/    We woke up at the crack of dawn. I stood beside Carson while we checked out, even though I wanted to justgo sit in the truck.    Well, actually I didn’t want to go sit in the truck, because at somepoint last night or this.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403541/    Abel’s crew was weird.  That was the only way I could think todescribe them.  One of the first things Ihad noticed about Raj and Brandt and Carson were their feline features and howthey moved as if they were one with the wind. T.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403537/    “So, what does this mean, then?” Raj askedfor the billionth time as he paced back and forth around the small wooden tablein the kitchen.  He was far from soundinghappy.  “If that guy was part of Xavien’sperson guard.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403536/    The whole thing wouldn’t have been all thatcomplicated to arrange if I didn’t have to tell Ronnie to lie to Rick in casehe called her to check on my whereabouts. Being Ronnie, she showed up at my house the morning I was supposed to be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403535/    I was only half way through dance practiceand I couldn’t stop thinking about Carson. I guess he was pulling another disappearing act, because I hadn’t seenhim in the past three days.  Ronnie’sincessant nagging about who he .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1403533/ I came to in my own bed, in my own room.  The familiar violet wallpaper was cheery,nudging me to wake up and seize the day. My window was open, and a soft, summer breeze blew through, nestling myface and blowing my bed hair around.   Rubbing.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1400285/     It all started with a box.  Sounds legit, right?  Sounds like an enchanting, romantic way forsomething to start?  Well, itwasn’t.  For starters, the box wasn’teven an attractive one.  No lace, no cutelittle f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1400281/ Anna Fowler has always been different, but when a strange boy saves her from being kidnapped at a local club, her world spirals out of control. Nothing will ever be the same. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/brunettedixie/1400278/