Moira Lang Novels & Stories

Angelo chuckled. “Oh, yeah; thanks for the gadgets. That will probably keep me busy and get me a bit more productive; not that I agree with your opinion of Skinner’s stories though.” Moira smiled as she reached for the note that came with the gadgets, “And I got your little letter too, by the way.” Angelo shrugged and promptly changed the subject, “Did you say productive?” “I’m studying to be a social worker. So I have to catch up on my studies; that’s what I’m referring to.” Moira taped on the laptop that lay beside her.

came the silky voice again, echoing everywhere but with no physical embodiment There was a shift in the air and a female figured materialized bathed in heavenly light, her senses went off again and she was assaulted with nothing but abject fear and uncertainty, Moira tried desperately to get a good look, but her physical features seemed to shift, ever changing and always obscuring her identity, the only thing that seemed constant were her eyes They shine a bright Gold, and when they looked at her them seemed to peer deep within her soul, judging and weighing it's sins

She swallowed, and stood her ground. “You think because some measly news studio wants to interview you, you suddenly have some kind of power, don’t you?” Moira taunted, her voice soft and dangerous. “That’s the mistake you rookies all make. I can make that little reporter down there disappear,” she snapped her fingers in front of Luna’s face, Luna flinched, “like that. She, and her news studio, are no match for me. And believe me, I am ready to wage war on her to get to you. So, listen up, you are going to cancel that little interview that you have scheduled with her, or,” she brought out a paper from the big purse hanging from her arm, “I am going to release this to the whole world.”

Each day she grows more powerful, although they rarely use their powers. Moira was born with light magic. She can create and manipulate visible light. She can draw strength from the sun and channel its energy into a burst of light. She also has the power to heal, which she got from our mother. Mom was one of the most powerful witches to come from the De Meathe line in over one hundred years. She was truly magnificent and her healing powers were unparalleled.

The next morning the sun made its appearance again. Smiling down at the earth with its warm beams, leaving kisses behind on everyone’s skin. Amore woke up to screams between a man and woman outside in a foreign language. She looked next to her at Caity. Caity had long black hair and dark tanned skin. She can't help being tough on Caity. She wanted them both to get out of here alive. She shook Caity on the shoulders to wake her up. Caity slowly opened her eyes and then yawned while she stretched her arms above her head.

I'd spent the entire class half hard behind the podium, forcing myself to focus on the projector while she crossed and uncrossed her smooth legs every few minutes. And here she was, Layla Turner, an A+ student turned self-sabotaging brat, dripping on my table because she couldn't wait any longer. Such an impatient little slut. I'd been eager to play this game with her all session. Who knew she would snap so soon? Christ, she was perfect. Her pussy was slick with arousal, already swollen from nothing other than anticipation of being fucked. I leaned back in my chair, watching as she slid her fingers down, tracing her slit for a few seconds before dipping two fingers in.

"Yessica." "American." Moira tilted her head. "New York or California?" "New York." "Fancy." She said it without judgment. "So which category are you?" "I'm sorry?" "We've got three main types here. Dead partner, arsehole partner, or oops-accidentally-pregnant-by-a-stranger." Moira counted them on her fingers. "I'm category two. Left my boyfriend after he put his fist through a wall. Six inches from my face." She said it the same way she might mention weather. "You?"

Moira was tall with long silver hair, four black eyes, she had two red scars on her face, she wore a red dares with white lace cuffs, a blue diamond necklace and no shoes. “You are very beautiful, but what of the scars?” asked Kariya putting his hand on Moira’s face. “Before I met Jaque I was beaten and raped and I keep the scars as a reminder to not trust men.” Said Moira releasing some Furiyu. “I see.” “What is this all about?” “Didn’t my advisor tell you, you were chosen to be the first queen of the Night nation.” Said Kariya sitting on his throne. “What happens once I become queen?” asked Moira.

Her character contrasted heavily with my own dark brown hair and even darker eyes. Still caged in my mind, I read the words that I had just written back to myself in my head: 'The girl’s sandy hair flew across her face. She wielded her precious sword encrusted with diamonds and rhinestones in the shape of ancient symbols. Fiercely, she looked back at her opponent. Blood dripped from his mouth and some teeth were lying on the floor, evidently his. His hands were held up, clearly in a surrendering motion, as he begged for his life. The sweat on his face plastered his hair to his forehead. Moira’s eyes shone with malice and callousness. She lifted the sword, ready to strike this helpless man. H

Elder Moira sits at the center, her silver hair braided with moon-blessed beads that click softly when she moves her head, and her face could have been carved from the same stone as the walls around us—all sharp angles and cold judgment. My hands shake as I clutch the parchment I've rewritten seventeen times, the paper damp with sweat and crinkled at the edges. I've practiced saying these words in my tiny room above the healing ward, speaking them to my reflection until I could get through the whole thing without my voice breaking. I wasn't ready. But I'm here anyway, because staying silent would mean he'd hurt someone else, and I can't live with that even if speaking up means my own destruc