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Lost Tales

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I spent most of my childhood dreaming and daydreaming about different worlds, imagining so many stories unfolding in my mind every single day. Mom always told me I had a vivid imagination and encouraged me to write whatever I dreamt about. She said she was just like me when she was young, and that writing all those stories down from a young age was a major factor that contributed to her becoming an author. I took her advice and started writing when I was just six, and over the years, I had so many stories of my own that I was proud of. However, my preferring fiction over everything else pushed me into a corner in social situations; a lot of my classmates thought me a freak and often bullied me. I struggled to make friends for many years, and once I reached my teens, I finally gave up on it. My stories were enough, I didn’t need any friends. My characters were my second family. After I finished school and started working, however, my writing slowly faded into the background of my life. ...
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Avenged

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Trigger Warning: Gore / Violence Against Children As a homicide detective, I thought I had seen it all until, one day, I came across a sight I never thought I’d see. The bodies of multiple children were thrown into a pile on the outskirts of the town. I felt knots form from my stomach to my throat as my partner and I investigated the bodies; the children were tortured before they were shot in the back of their heads. They were all minorities, so we started cracking down on supremacists and other gangs in the area, but every route we took led us to an impasse. As we ran around in circles, the bodies kept piling up every other week. By the time the second month rolled around, we were staring at a three-digit body count. I saw their faces every time my head hit the pillow, and I stared at the ceiling for hours, hoping and wishing to get my hands on those responsible. I could barely even eat anymore. My partner’s hopes of catching the murderers slowly eroded as this dragged on, but I doubl...
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Insight

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Since I was a child, I could easily read any living thing’s feelings and know their entire history just with a single touch. Humans, dogs, birds, and even trees—I felt everything they’ve ever experienced. It was both a blessing and a curse, for while there was so much joy, there was also an equal, if not more, amount of pain. When I first proved to my classmates that I had these abilities, most of them were amazed, however, a few classmates, and even a number of teachers, began to fear me and call me names. My mom forced me to stop talking about my abilities with others from that point on, but eventually, I came to be labelled a freak by most children at school, as well as by many people in our neighbourhood. Mom and I moved to a new town not long after, and there, I kept my secret to myself even after I graduated and joined the police force. My abilities allowed me to quickly rise through the ranks and become a detective. In the field, even though my abilities were a secret, people be...
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