Hi. everyone. I won't be able to post anything on the blog today because I've tested positive for COVID-19 and can't concentrate to write. I hope to put Part II of 'A Legend Entrapped' next week.
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. ...
I never felt like I belonged, no matter where I was. I had kind friends, and parents that saw to my every need, so I couldn’t fathom why I felt that way. The feeling never went away, even when I got older. While we were still children, my best friend Leela often said I was strange for feeling the way I did, and that she wouldn’t have even cared if her parents passed away if it meant she could be adopted by my parents. I found her thoughts to be stranger than mine. Once I became an adult, however, I started to notice things. I could see and hear things that others could not. I feared my mental health was deteriorating, but I soon learned that it was not the case. I quickly found out that my abilities extended beyond heightened senses—I could manipulate the world around me. Wanting to figure out the extent of my powers, I decided to infuse it into my work. I had joined a software company after completing my degree and was a month into developing a new social media app. As a side project,...
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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