A.O. Chika's Blog, page 19

NEVEA 3d mockup

3d mockup for my lesbian mermaid novella -Nevea.

PS: I will be giving out 3 short YA LGBT stories as well as 3 poems for free to all my email subscribers. more details to be posted soon.

Can You See Me 3d mockup

The  3d mockup for my upcoming YA novel.

Free eBook cover and source file

This is one of my attempt at eBook cover design using MS Word. Its free to use just ask and I’ll send it to you, along with the source file. PS: Since i made this using word, the source file is technically a word document. I design eBook covers on Fiverr so if you want a cover you can find me HERE

Short Story: Stacey

This was written thanks to another prompt by the Goodreads YA LGBT group. The picture given was

I hate the way my body looks like in the mirror. The person is too skinny, too curvy and too soft. Her shoulders are not broad enough; her chest is too puffy its looks as if a tiny balloon is glued to her chest. Her voice is too high and not deep enough to be me.

I know I’m not a girl but I’m not sure if I’m a boy. I love online shopping, the stripper heels, Kanye West sneakers, binders, compression shorts and premium lipstick can attest to that.

I’m not always like this though; sometimes I feel like Beyoncé and sometimes like Nick Cannon. Sometimes I’m stuck in between and it doesn’t hurt, other times it does.

At sixteen, most people want to get a boyfriend, a new laptop or some swanky gear. I have all that but all I want is to be a complete person. Not a half boy, a half girl or some confusing person.

I’m not depressed; I’ve never tried to kill myself or anything like that, I’m not mentally or emotionally sick either. Nana says I’m just being a greedy little girl who wants everything and to be everything and maybe she is right.

Dad has finally taken a week off and we’ll be going to one of our cabins in the woods. There’s no internet there, I don’t know anyone there and most importantly, it’s FUCKING WINTER.

Nana is already spewing crap about family bonding and connecting with nature. Frankly, the only thing I want to connect to right now is my boyfriend’s dick but Jerry has been avoiding me as of late.

Sometimes I think his masculinity is so fragile that when he sees me working out in my binders and boxers he is threatened. It hurts that he sees what I’m wearing not me, why should it matter that there are times I hate my boobs, hips and vagina, it’s not like I don’t let him fuck me despite that.

I’ve never tried to kill myself or done anything to permanently change myself but there are times I wish I could. I stand in front of my mirror, pink scissors in hand, as I cut my hair like Jerry’s it’s not a flattering hairstyle and it’s more suited for the backup singer of a boy band about to split up.

Despite how unattractive it looks, there’s this thing in my chest that calms down a bit. I can’t say I’m happy but for now, I’m fine. I know I should take a bath to wash off the hair on my body but I feel like if I take my clothes off to take a bath when I see myself in the bathroom mirror the thing in my chest will die.

So I stand up, dust the hair off my body; grab one of my binders and boxers from my underwear drawer. I walk towards my closet, pick up one of my T-shirt, jeans, and zipped jacket. I don’t look fabulous or anything; I look weird and average but that thing in my chest is still there, so it doesn’t bother me so much.

Wearing my one of my sneakers, I sneak out of the house. It’s 2 pm and Nana is probably reading a book or taking an early afternoon nap.

I remember the tiny spot a few minutes away from Jerry’s. The ice should be thick enough for me to lie down and stare at the sky.

It doesn’t take long, it’s been around only twenty minutes, I’m not sure as I’m not wearing a watch and I left my phone at home, all that matters is that I’m here. The ice is inviting and there’s silence all around, no dad who has to work almost every day but still has the time to rebuff my life choices. No Nana who can’t just mind her own business, no Jerry who doesn’t love me enough to stay with me and help me figure out what’s wrong with me.

I lie on the ice and close my eyes; I let my mind drift. Call it a moment of weakness but I’m tired of always been strong, of always being on guard, I want to relax and for once there is no one around. No dad, no Nana, no Jerry or gossiping maids just me.

“My name is Stacey and I don’t know what I am.” I whisper to myself. I open my eyes as a snowflake lands on my cheek, I know I look pathetic lying in the cold with not enough clothing to prevent me from being sick but it doesn’t matter right now.

There is no confusion, no self-loathing, and no reflection in the mirrors or in the silverware. The thing in my chest is calm.

“My name is Stacey and I wish I could stay like this forever.”

Short Story: Sleep Paralysis

Wrote this story Thanks to a prompt on the YA LGBT Goodreads group. We were given a picture and told to write a story. This was mine:

I hate sleeping, I really do. I hate it even more because I know what is wrong with me, but Wikipedia and other online sites never get it right, they never really get that at six years old the last thing anyone wants is to be in bed, not sure if you are awake or if it’s all a dream. I could feel a weight on me pinning me to my bed and I was unable to breathe, my lungs burned and I couldn’t move even though I was trying my hardest to, then panic set in and my heart’s racing too fast for me understand what is going on. I try to scream, but I can’t hear anything, I don’t even know if I’m screaming, if my mouth is even opened or if the whole screaming thing is in my head. 

I could make out a dark shadow next to me moving closer and closer and yet I didn’t even get the comfort of being able to close my eyes. Before everything went black, I wondered if anyone would believe me if I said there was a monster in my room trying to kill me. 

Wikipedia says it’s sleep paralysis, others sites says its Demons and Nephilim’s looking for vulnerable humans to possess.

Fast forward to a decade later with similar occurrence happening at least a couple times a month and if I’m lucky nothing happens for a month or two. Maybe that’s why I’m woefully unprepared on the eve of my sixteenth birthday, well past midnight but still wide awake as I’m too excited to sleep and I know my friends have something planned.

“Come home, we’re waiting for you.”

I whip my head to the sound of the strange voice, In my bed next to me is a black shadowy thing shaped like a person, I immediately panic and try to run out of my bed, I can already feel myself running out of the bed, I can see my hand inches away from the light switch, yet for some reason I find myself back in my bed with that thing next to me. I’m confused and afraid because I know I left the bed, I know I ran away yet here I am, with a heavy weight on me, completely paralyzed, my lungs burning in my chest when I register the fact that I’m not breathing. The weight goes away after a while and I don’t even get the chance to feel relieved as I hear sounds around me, but they seem kinda far away. I get the distinct feeling of drowning and my fears increase, I’ve always being unable to swim as I’m afraid of water. 

I wonder if I’m going to die, but then I remember all the plans Alison, Jeff and the rest put into my birthday surprise and there is no way in hell I’m gonna die before I get a kiss from either Alison or Jeff. I fight against the heavy mass surrounding me, screaming ‘No, No, No’ and listing things I still want to do before I die. Everything ends as quickly as it came and I’m alone in my room, covered in sweat. I can’t help the laugh at spills from my lips, no one really would believe me if I told them that there’s something in my room trying to kill me will they?

I wait for similar events the next day and a day turn to weeks then months and it’s been a really long time since I had Sleep Paralysis. My relief lasts till the eve of my seventeenth birthday and I’m undeniably scared so I run to Jeff’s place for an impromptu sleepover, to my relief he doesn’t mind nor questions it, besides his bed is big enough for both of us. We play video games all night and I can’t remember when I fall asleep.

Then it happens, there a weight on me and this time it’s different because this time it’s some sort of animal if the fur and the four bony legs crouching on top of me are anything to go by, this time I have the pleasure of having my eyes already closed, and I try to regulate my non-existing breathing, giving up on that immediately. My head supplies me with the word ‘Dog’ and I try really hard not to panic as I’m deathly scared of dogs, in an effort to regain my sanity I begin wiggling my toes, Online sites and studies said that would help… they lied.

I keep my eyes closed and pray the torment ends, perhaps my prayers were answered as the weight is suddenly gone, and I can breathe again, I slowly open one eye, then the other. I look around as for some reason I’m no longer in Jeff’s room but back in my bedroom, the door is opened slightly and there’s a bright light on the other side, walking slowly towards the door is a black goat I feel like it’s gesturing for me to come along with it, and I can feel my body leaving the bed. My brain finally decides to work and I stop right in front of the door, and try to fight whatever has a hold of me then everything goes black and I wake up in a bright room lit by an electrical bulb with Jeff’s face close to mine marred by fear and concern, I really can’t help but laugh, I try to sit up but I’m shaking too much for my limbs to work, I turn to him and cling to whatever part of his body I can reach ignoring his “Dude, are you alright?” I doubt he would believe me if I told him something is trying to kill me.

On the eve of my eighteenth birthday I’m prepared, there’s a cold cup next to me that previously contained black coffee with no sugar, and I can still feel the bitterness on my tongue. I’ve made up my mind to confront whatever it is that has been out for my blood, I want some answers and I’m tired of everything; the stress from my parents’ divorce didn’t help, and neither does rejection from all the colleges I applied to, despite my more than impressive grades.

This time it’s different, I’m not in my room and it’s not dark, I’m outside in a field with some sort of fence behind me, the sky is orangish-grayish and I can make out some round thing in it, maybe it’s the sun or maybe it’s the moon. There’s a creepy looking mansion ahead of me, with its window panes opening and closing one after the other, all the trees around are dried up and look like twigs, the grasses are brown and dying, yet they all seem to be moving even though I can’t feel any breeze.

I know I should be scared, but I guess years of torment takes away my ability to be afraid of anywhere other than my bedroom, or maybe it’s the fact that for once there is no weight against me, no suffocation or the feeling of drowning, my chest doesn’t hurt so maybe I’m breathing fine… For some reason I can’t tell, I wonder if this is how vampires feel like… I blame the last thought on Twilight.

Perhaps I spoke too soon because now my body is moving on its own yet there is no pressure around me, I feel like I’m walking on the air but then I look down and I see the brown sand and dead grasses beneath me, with my legs walking on them, the house is getting closer and the fact that there are no cobweb or anything distinctly scary about the place creeps me out and I scream, well at least I try to, I know my mouth is opened but all I can hear is murmurs around me and laughers that chill me to the bone, and from the empty space around me forms shadowy figures without shape, the fact that I’m not breathing hits me again and I’m in full panic mode, I can hear the pounding in my chest, I can feel my limbs trembling beneath me, I can taste my desperation when it suddenly feels chilly. I can feel the tears running down my face when all of a sudden there is something warm against me, someone’s breathing near my ear and the last thing I hear before everything goes black is someone whispering 

“Welcome Home”

POETRY: Love

I was given the word ‘wild’ to write a song/poem and for some ridiculous reason, it morphed into this.

 

Hit me then I’ll hit you back

The bruises on my face is yours

The scratches on your neck are mine

The knife on the floor is yours

But the red on it is mine.

 

I’ve got you all over my body

Your scars they mark me as yours

And they’re a proof of our love.

 

You’ve got me all over your body

My hits they mark you as mine

And they’re a proof of our love.

 

Love me like a broken love song

Break me up but keep me close

You look so much better covered in red

I love you when you’re in tears

You love me when I’m in pain.

 

I’ve got you all over my body

Your scars they mark me as yours

And they’re a proof of our love.

 

You’ve got me all over your body

My hits they mark you as mine

And they’re a proof of our love.

POETRY: Death

Okay, so today i read a poem online about death and depression and decided to try my hand at it. Sadly I’m not sure its structured like a poem. Anyway here’s my attempt

 

Her lips are on my neck, sharp teeth against my vein.

Lipstick stains cover my chest but none on my lips… There never is

She backs away with a smile looking impressed with her work

She looks amazing in black but even better in red.

I let her bathe in it. She can have as much as she wants

 

My blood clings to her like a skin tight lingerie

Beautiful and magnificent, nothing could compare to her

She’s not what people imagine her to be she has no horn or tail

There’s no cruel laughter just a smile that leaves me breathless

She knocks the air out of my lungs and leaves me gasping

 

It’s lust, and greed and something really close to defeat

It’s not love, but it’s good enough; she’s there for me after every screw-up

I don’t need alcohol when the rope is good enough

I keep knocking on her door and she keeps letting me in

We both know I won’t stay long but we pretend anyway

 

She’s not a drug, but she’s addictive

The cuts and purple bruises can attest to that

The choker on my neck hiding our affair is proof

The tear stains on my pillow witnessed everything

There’s no regret, just things I wished I could change

 

I’m not sure where I am but I think I’m floating

Ah yes, I’m in my bathtub and the red reminds me of her

It’s not home but it’s familiar, I’ve been here too many times

It doesn’t hurt, it never has. I can smell her cologne

I can feel the ghost of her lips on my ears

 

My vision is blurry but I can see the flicker of a smile on her lips

And that’s enough for me. I’m ready this time

She makes my heart beat so slow I wonder if it’s still functioning

But I guess today is not the day we’ll be together

My door slams open and someone barges in on us.

 

She’s backing away from me, frustration clear on her face

Someone is trying to take my attention from her

And I think it’s working because all I can focus on is the noise around me

I reach out for her; I think I do, I’m not sure, but I hope I do

But she’s gone, and everything goes dark

 

Nevea Book Cover

After three failed attempts at creating a book cover for my Lesbian Mermaid Novella, I finally, finally! designed a book cover that looks appealing at zero cost.

I suppose its my fault for spending $10 dollars on fiverr to design a book cover when I could have done it myself. Here is the evolution of Nevea.