wayfaringauthorofficial

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

And so you drowned in the power of your own conviction, trying and failing to convince your disbanded tribe that I was the villain in our short, twisted story. Don’t you worry, darling.

We all knew it was you from the start.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Sometimes, I think about what Meredith Grey’s mother said. ‘You’re nothing more than ordinary.” Ordinary. Not ‘You’re doing a good job. Congratulations on getting your residency in a good hospital’. Just ordinary. A brush off, never good enough to actually be recognized by anyone. Just doing what she had to do to make it to the next day. And maybe that’s how I feel most of the time, but I would never let anyone know that. I would never mutter those words in anything above a whisper, unless it’s unvoluntary. Unless it’s forced out of me like that episode of a show I saw once, where the doctor gave girls unnecessary procedures without their knowledge because he liked the thrill of it. Or maybe it was in a dream… I don’t remember clearly. The pills make things fuzzy.

And other days, the ‘ordinary’ feeling gets to be too much. It lands on top of me, a thick blanket that sucks all of the air out of my lungs and leaves me trapped there on the floor, a suffocated heap just trying to make it to the next moment, the next day, in one piece. But my life, my body, could never cooperate. No one truly understands that sort of cycle, the pain of wanting to break out of it, even if you explain it a thousand times. This town does its best making a mess of things, of the people who dare to make their homes here for too long. Daughters become shells, weighed down by the commentary of Negative Nancys and their husbands, flouncing around judging someone when they don’t even know their last name, or the trials they’ve had to overcome to make it to today, or tomorrow.

Maybe ordinary is a good thing. Maybe it makes the world less painful, less taxing. Because isn’t all this payment for who I chose to become, the path that I decided I wanted for myself? I’m not doing what my parents dreamt for me. I’m not a big shot lawyer or a corporate junkie. I’m not even done with college yet, after eleven damn years of trial and error, pain and outbursts. But maybe it was the wrong place at the wrong time, or whatever that one saying is. Maybe I was rushing to head down a path that was supposed to be right for me, only to be pushed onto another one. And that’s okay for most people. I still can’t help but feel like a failure every time I walk through that door, every time I look into my mother’s eyes. Because I should be better by now. I should have done more. I should be better.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Here are the many many songs I listen to when I'm writing!

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

I passed my nutrition test, y’all 🙏📚🎉

Probably won't be posting a lot during the next week or so because I have essays and exams for the first part of the semester. But I'm still writing. I'll be back.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Probably won't be posting a lot during the next week or so because I have essays and exams for the first part of the semester. But I'm still writing. I'll be back.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Sometimes, hearing that one song is all you need to get the ideas flowing again.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Free sneak peek of The Regal Warfare is available now!!

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

The Maze's Deceit (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1548866366-the-maze%27s-deceit?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Alvsonx One boy, yanked from the outside world, is thrown into a dangerous game of survival. The only way to make it home alive is to win. But what if he's already out of time?

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Baby girl, what have you done?

Vultures scream and flock to the skies to see

the devil’s new pet.

But he looked so much like a prince,

was so beautiful when he told you about his childhood

and all the games he played growing up.

He won every round

because that’s what happens when everything is handed to you.

You were the girl who buried herself in books and movies,

doing your best to forget the pain

that followed at your heels like a ghost

just looking for another soul to haunt,

to own and possess.

It was alright at first, before the weight got too heavy.

It was manageable, or so you thought before the tidal waves

threatened to keep you on the ground coming

one after another until you thought

you might just be smashed into dust,

another mess washed away by the storm.

And he did what he could to erase it,

because he made a promise.

But what if all of that joy was a lie,

and your nightmare was just beginning?

That trapdoor slammed shut just as you made your way

over the threshold.

Rules were written that you had never agreed to.

Set in stone, and his presence a constant reminder

that your life was not your own.

It never would be if you stayed in his cage.

Because boys like him only want animals they can control,

not a free-spirited girl who knows exactly what she wants.

You can’t control a woman with the spirit of a rainbow.

Walking kaleidoscopes will never be tamed.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

You're going to like this one when I'm done.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

New story excerpt

**I just started writing this today, so I'm not too far yet. Hope you like it!!

He walked through that house like he was chained to it. Hell, maybe he was. Because he wanted to leave, to leave the wood to splinter and eventually crumble to the ground. Hell, this place deserved far worse. But he couldn’t make it to the threshold without feeling like he was forgetting something. What could he possibly leave behind in a hell like this? It had already taken everyone he loved, ever possession he had held dear. Yet, his soul remained rooted, yanking him back into that hallway that he had combed every inch of time and time again. Why wasn’t the house satisfied? It always wanted more.

               The man swallowed hard. There was that hoarseness in his throat again. Had it taken his voice? He couldn’t be sure, too focused on running. Taking off down that grand staircase again, he lunged for the door, practically jumping three feet in the air. But before he could hit the ground, he jolted back to that chilly attic room. The door slammed shut, echoing in his ribs and rendering him sore. His scream, whether it was from frustration or pain (or something else entirely), tore from his lungs. Would this hell never let him go?

               She was waiting on him- the girl from the bar. They hadn’t locked eyes in many years, since he walked into this place, but she wrote to him. Every day, for the past two years. He had every letter folded neatly on his desk until last night, when he packed only the essentials and vowed to break free of this wretched curse, however mad this demon might be. His cage’s soul shuddered at the thought, making him flinch. She always found him, no matter how much he changed or how many miles he got from that cliché one-horse town. She knew. She always knew how to find him. How rude he must seem for not going back to her. But she would see. She would figure it out in the end.

               What if he just ran for it, broke the wood? What if he fought back? A harsh laughter broke through the air, tearing him from sleep. Try it. Try it. Try it, it taunted, the whisper growing louder and louder as he sat up in bed. I DARE YOU. TRY IT. RUN. SEE HOW FAR YOU CAN GET. She screamed, her voice loud and clear, but also not really there. Because she wasn’t real. She couldn’t be real. But he could feel her fingers around his throat, holding him down.

               He trembled. He squirmed and gasped. He begged. But nothing would get her to back down. She was too angry this time. Now, he would have to endure, to give what she wanted to take until she was satisfied. He screamed until his throat was raw, tears pouring form onyx eyes until his stomach betrayed him. It was no use; no one would hear him. No one would come. No one would think of him, for she had erased him from existence. He was hers and hers alone forever.

               Maybe he didn’t know what his jailer looked like, but he could still smell her perfume when he walked into certain rooms. Still see coffee brewing in the morning when she deemed it alright to let him wander out of his room. She was everywhere and she was nowhere, breathing down his neck but giving him space all at once. One day, he would catch her. He would say his piece and get it over with, face the consequences for thinking such horrid things about her. But he couldn’t do that like this, not if he didn’t see her face. And he would, when the time was right. He just needed to figure out what cards she had hidden up her sleeve. As of now, that was proving to be harder than he anticipated.

               Because his nemesis, whoever or whatever she was, knew everything. His name. His whereabouts. His next move. But he could never know hers, not if he tracked her for weeks. She always had another trick, some sort of surprise, up her sleeve. “What do I have to do for you to let me walk out that door,” he whispered, tears pricking in his eyes as the paranormal storm rocked through the house and shook through him, mind, body, and soul.

               There was no answer, only silence aside from the thunder and lightning strikes. Her fingertips tap danced across his back with every crack, reminding him that she was watching. She was always watching… listening. Plotting. And as he sunk to the floor, wondering what he had done to earn this torture, he could have sworn he heard her laugh somewhere deep in the wood.

               He still felt the scar twinge sometimes, a constant reminder of his mistakes. Wasn’t that enough, a flesh wound for his intrusion? His family warned him about this place, about what had happened. But it was all he could afford, and all he could get at short notice. So he took the house, how it was. He didn’t care about the family that fled before dawn, spinning tales about the woman in white. He ignored it, because it couldn’t have been true. Now in her palace, he realized he was wrong. He should have run after the tour, said good riddance and gotten on that plane to Maryland like his family had begged him. He should have followed them, should have promised to stay close. His mother would have been better off. He wouldn’t be here.  

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

As I walk through the graveyard of all the girls

I used to be,

the ones that used to smile and laugh

without having to fake it.

For a while, I was curious wondering

why someone would want her gone.

But maybe I wasn’t the problem.

Maybe it was you, your friends,

and all the ones like you

that try to rip everything good out of a girl

they realize they’ll never be good with.

So why did you let me fall for you?

Why couldn’t you leave me to rot

in that little house in the woods

that you dragged me out of,

cheshire cat smile on your face

as stars danced in your eyes?

-Maybe Cassadee was right.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

I never understood why you thought I deserved what you did to me, but maybe that doesn’t matter now. You’re a different person than you led me to believe. I destroyed the version of myself that you said you adored the moment I learned the truth. So judge the girl I used to be. You have no idea who I can become or what I’m capable of. You weren’t there when they tried to take me. You didn’t see me disappear when the lights went down. This is not a version of me that you will ever get to hold, to treasure. You had your chance. And you threw it away like the butt of a cigarette.

-Just a could-have-been.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

When writing toxic family dynamics

Toxic family stuff isn’t always screaming matches or broken plates. Sometimes it’s quiet control. The expectation to shrink, the pressure to be perfect, the guilt that rides shotgun. It’s complicated. And it’s deeply, deeply personal.

✧ Make the love real, but conditional.  One of the most damaging things about toxic family is the illusion of love. It’s not “I love you no matter what.” It’s “I love you when you obey.” Let your character notice that.

✧ Control shows up in micro ways... Who’s allowed to speak. Who’s allowed to feel. Who apologizes first, even when they’re not wrong. Control doesn’t need to be loud. Sometimes it’s a raised eyebrow or a guilt trip.

✧  Let them question reality. Toxic families are great at gaslighting. Your character might constantly wonder, Was it really that bad? Am I being dramatic? Let them doubt their own memories. That internal confusion is real.

✧ The guilt will be crushing. Leaving a toxic family doesn’t feel empowering at first. It feels selfish. It feels wrong. It feels like betrayal, even when it's survival. Show your character grieving the fantasy of the family they wish they had.

✧ Let them try to earn love. Your character might work their ass off trying to “be good,” hoping maybe this time they’ll be enough. Toxic families move the goalposts. Let that break them a little.

✧ Show emotional whiplash... One moment everything is warm and nostalgic. The next, it’s tense and full of landmines. That unpredictability is the dynamic. Use it.

✧ Don’t make the villain cartoonish. Even the abuser might think they’re doing what’s best. They might bake cookies and say “I’m just worried about you.” That’s what makes it so damaging. Write them like people, flawed, manipulative, real.

✧ Let your character unlearn in layers. Even after they leave, they still flinch. Still fold under pressure. Still crave approval. Recovery isn’t clean. But it’s worth it. And when they finally say no, even just once, let it be electric.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

‘Last call’ rings through the air.

One shot, two shots, three shots, four.

High heels falling from the stools to the floor.

My stomach hurts.

I don’t know where to go.

Why did you do it?

I thought you loved me.

But you were just the devil in disguise

trying to lure another helpless girl

with a pretty smile

into that open cage.