I’m currently writing a book. And even though I’ve written books in the past, those were for school, this one is actually my choice to write. If you’ve ever heard of NaNoWriMo, you’d know that it’s basically a month where someone sets a goal for a number of words to reach by the end of that month. I participated in Camp NaNoWriMo this past April. My goal was rather low: 15K words as I knew I’d be overloaded with school. As expected I reached my goal, and bit by bit I’ve been writing more and posting my story on Wattpad. I’ll hopefully finish it by the time summer ends. It’s a mystery book and while it won’t be novel-length, it’ll be quite long. For me at least. Here’s the summary for it and then the blurb.
Everyone in the quaint little town of Sunbank swore that they had never seen the two sisters Leila and Hope without the other by her side. They were inseparable. That is, until one day, when not only was Hope taken away, but the hope inside of Leila was taken as well. The day Hope was murdered shouldn’t be forgotten, and yet somehow, Leila can’t remember a thing.
Since the incident, I’ve written letters. Letters to no one in particular. Letters that bare my soul, my secrets. Letters that nobody can ever know about. Because, the words contained in these letters are terrifying, and would kill whomever is reading them. Now, don’t get confused and think that my depressing thoughts would kill them with sorrow or hurt. No, they would metaphorically kill them with pity, with pity and boredom.
My letters would kill their readers, just like I plan on doing to myself. I am going to kill myself. My life isn’t worth living anymore. I have nobody that cares about me, nobody that would cry If I left.
I’d be dead by now if it weren’t for those letters. They help me stay hopeful, or at least they did. But now… now, they’re just painful reminders of my useless life.
So now all that’s left is for me to leave, and I had plans to do just that, but then, then I decided to read my letters once more before I left. Yet strange things are happening, because I found my letters filled with somebody else’s words. My depressing thoughts have now disappeared and been replaced with words of love, and not hate.
Somehow something, somebody got a hold of my letters, and changed them. It could be my imagination. It could be me going berserk. However, it could also be my savior… because maybe, just maybe, their words will be enough to give me hope again. And this time, it’ll be permanent.
If you even slightly liked this, please please check out the chapters of it I have posted on Wattpad at this link: The Day Hope was Murdered
I may or may not start posting the chapters on here as well.