A/N: Enjoy! This is a start of one of my first stories. Theres only 2 chapters so far and it’s not written too well. Review!

Devil Sketch

Chapter 1

A writer can make brilliant things; they can create worlds and describe stories that teach us all lessons. The one thing a writer cannot do, is make that description a reality. This is what an artist can do. They can draw a window into any world, into any story. But what od one who is a writer and an artist? Can they create life? Can they become a god of sorts?

Allan Chase is this sort of person, he aspires to become an artist, as well as an author. Allan stretched his arms out into the air, his long, dark brown hair sliding down his desk chair; a rubber band tying it back into a pony tail. He pulled of his glasses and stared at his work, his first book; illustrated by himself.

He had shown it to a publicist a month or so ago. They agreed to publish it as soon as he finished. And weeks later, here he is in front of his book, the beginning of his life ahead of him. Twenty-seven years old, engaged and in love. His fiancé: Samantha Rodes was the love of his life; her matching dark blue eyes to his, and her equally long light brown hair.

After years of dating and of being separated, they finally moved into a house of their own, a small house with little room for kids, but a house none-the-less. Their wedding was in two weeks. Both he and Sam didn’t want anything fancy; especially Allan. He had a lay about personality, not at all competitive and never aggressive; though he may be intelligent, he wasn’t very forward with his intelligence. Mostly being a smart ass in his youth.

And Sam liked that about him, it was his love for her that helped him become competitive and do reckless things to get to where they are now. Sam wasn’t the kind of person to argue or share her thoughts with others. Allan changed that, he made sure he had her thoughts on everything. And with Sam’s energetic personality and intelligent way of thinking, they were the perfect match.

Allan chuckled softly as he thought of how far they’ve come. Sam was close behind him in publishing her book; both being authors and fellow booklovers made their lives great. It was three in the morning, and Allan wasn’t at all tired. He was used to late nights, the permanent bags under his eyes always deepened after these late nights. Sam had gone to bed at twelve, she wasn’t the kind of person to stay up late, but she had nightmares without Allan beside her. So he made sure their separation was held at a minimum.

Allan wanted to go to bed, but there was this feeling he had, a feeling of anxiousness and restlessness. He was excited; tomorrow he would go and turn in his first book. For the past week he had had little sleep. He had to finish his book for the deadline was nearing. And he finished just in time. This made even happier.

Allan got up and left his desk, he knew his book would be there in the morning, and after thirty minutes of thinking, he felt it time for bed. He walked into his and Sam’s bedroom. Through the darkness, he could hear Sam turn about in their bed; enduring one of her nightmares. He slipped of his long sleeved shirt, a dark blue, and then his dark blue jeans. He slipped into bed with little hesitation. Sam stopped thrashing about as he wrapped his arms around her. For as long as he could remember, she had loved his arms around her. He fell asleep after a minute and felt all peace within himself.