been revealed and God’s judgments on the earth is in. The Clave is here to
deliver the news.
home for now.
model I learned Hollywood isn’t where dreams survive the harsh reality of
millions all sharing that same dream.
is who I am now.
took a liking to me. One not easily ignored when they give you a taste of the
give up hope and give in to LA’s bad reputation but I had rules.
one: read the rules before you break them.
all my morals, the filter came off my life to see the world I was one foot in
was invitation only…
ever really Jason.
a distant memory now.
name, companionship, happiness that wasn’t shaped like Xanax all because I was
expected to be the kind of elite that pulls the strings.
follow the rules.
didn’t ask for, a society of puppeteers.
marked not attending…
some delusion that we are doing God’s will by ridding the world of the bad
people when we should be included in that kind of purge.
right. There’s a bunker. That’s where they keep the sacrifices,” I was finally
tired of wondering around when I knew exactly where to go.
mistake one year when I was ten, back when inviting your whole family was more
common. They expected everyone to be present even if you weren’t weilding a
musket and shooting real people down.
to play hide and seek on the grounds just to keep ourselves entertained. I
always had the best hiding places, this was our vacation home when it wasn’t
being used for some ceremony the Clave hosted.
when I found people in cages in the bunker we were told to stay away from. They
were all dugged, out of it like they were dreaming with their eyes open. I
envied them. Dreaming with your eyes wide open seemed like the perfect antidote
to life, too bad that kind of safety only came before you died.
first attendance I realized these people weren’t lucky at all. They were bait,
aggression running wild, enemies of the Clave that we hunted for sport.
going to survive – the least we could do was let them dream with their eyes
grew up in Florida scribbling down stories from a very young age. These stories
were really just wavy lines filling the paper, but she knew each word, each
emotion, each character’s name, and there was no tricking her into forgetting
what each line signified. Just like her unconventional way of writing as a
toddler Elena is setting her own rules and just telling stories.Much like her debut novel, The Best Years, life certainly imitated art.
Transplanting from the South to the East Coast, Elena currently lives in
Connecticut with her soon to be husband, reformed bad boy.
Find her on her social media through Twitter at @elenamonroe, Instagram at
@elenamonroewrites, Facebook at @elenamonroewrites, and more!