Parable Ink Novels & Stories

“That’s like saying pink isn’t its own color.” “Well...” she trails, and the boy gasps. “Pink is its own independent color!” He defends. “How dare you imply otherwise!” “What?” she shrugs, insisting that she hadn’t done nothing wrong. “Pink is just a variant of red. A lighter version.” The boy gapes, feigning deep offense as he shakes his head, those dramatics of his coming to the surface. “Wow!” He complains. “You know what? I’m done with this conversation. Clearly you’re blind and have bad taste. I can’t be seen associating with someone like you.”

“Your outfit. It’s a bit plain, don’t you think?” “Oh,” he looked at his plain white hoodie in comparism to the glamorous outfits everyone around him seemed to have on. “I guess.” “Do you mind getting splattered?” he was replied to with a smile. “With paint. Your hoodie’s white so it’ll be gorgeous.” He looked up to see a couple holding different colours of paint buckets and a light brush. They smiled at him in obvious anticipation of his positive answer. “Yes,” Alex nodded, excitedly, surprising himself. “I’d love to.”

It's probably the effect of the weed, or maybe we such good friends that we make each other laugh so hard? Nah, it's definitely the weed. "I'm pink," Ashley says, continuing with this little game. "Because of my hair." She starts to play with the ends of her mostly pink hair. "I'm grey, the color that's between dark and white," Kristen says. "Because I'm the innocent one here but I'm also moving to the dark side." She starts to giggle. "You are definitely going to the dark side." Tatiana agrees with her. "I still can't believe you are a virgin though."

"my thoughts exactly, what you got in mind?" "Our hidden firework stash in the barn" "Yes," Acre says with a big grin, I can feel the excitement radiating off him, his wolf Forest is jumping around with excitement and Abyss my wolf he's just as excited, he's tipping at me. All of a sudden I feel Acres excitement deflate and Forest is on alert, Acre has frozen staring at the t.v. screen, in confusion I turn to see what he's looking at and there she is on the screen clinging to another girl, I looked closely at her long brown hair and big wide brown eyes, she was radiating fear

Jasmina said she understood that and asked her to say what she actually thought anyway. Sable said what she actually thought was that the color register Kira used for people with mismatched interiors, the amber-brown and the dark red and their variations, had a quality she'd been thinking of as a warning register, not a judgment, not a declaration, but a flagging, the way a body might run a temperature in response to something that needed attention. She said what struck her about the pale blue was that it had a completely different quality from that register, it had been soft and brief and had not come with the sustained intensity that characterized the amber-brown or especially the dark red

Chapter 23: Permission A peaceful night was spent in her room, she was painting, a bloody red paint was dripping down on her illustration board, it was a bloody red rose while the red paint was dripping in uneven length, it was light enough not to drop to the bottom, it was just enough to show that it was dripping like blood from each petal. She had her headphone so her attention was fixed on her painting. But something lighted up beside her and found her, she saw a notification. She cringe her forehead when it was a message.

I commanded, my voice calm, a sharp contrast to the humming machinery around us. The screen shifted. It showed a side-by-side comparison of two biological frequencies. One was a deep, thrumming gold—Girard Roux. The other was a bright, shimmering violet—Arielle. Where the two lines met, they wove together in a perfect, unbreakable braid. It was the Lien de Sang. The mate bond. To a poet, it was destiny. To me, it was a dual-channel data stream.

"You're the perfectionist." "Me?" I made an offended face. He squeezed my hand. "What color do you think Bella would like?" "Something very princess. Like… Royal Blush. Castle Vanilla. Wand Sparkle." Nick looked at me sideways. "You're making that up." "And you're underestimating the paint industry," I replied with fake seriousness. "If I look it up, it exists." Nick let out a laugh, pulling me closer, and I laughed with him, feeling my chest lighten like, for a second, life remembered how to be soft.

Hearing his motorbike, I quickly pretended to read my history textbook while secretly watching him. Behind Connor is his family's roofless army green jeep. Thann one of the triplets sat in the driver's seat; across from him was their beautiful cousin Kara, and at the back were the remaining triplet, Tanner, and Tant. I admired Kara's light golden hair blowing gracefully in the wind. She was like a model, tall and elegant.

He opened the black bag behind him, a leather-coated bag strong enough to stop the flow of oxygen in it. Countless grey papers crawled out of the bag, different imprints from different publishing presses on the headings. Though they mostly had the same news and sometimes copied themselves despite the copyright restrictions, it all felt different to my father. “Thanks, Mr. Hazel.” I collected the papers from him, giving him the spare change Dad had left on the dining table before heading for work.