In the beginning

Epilogue

Villains always had a back story. They did not spawn into existence. A villain with a conviction in what they do, solid reasoning and a justified cause is always harder to defeat than those who go on mindless barrages , whether in imitation, boredom or the simplicity of the fact that they can.Their story just reminds us all that had the tables been reversed ,we would all be just like them, with the same amount of hurt driving us to avenge ourselves,where the universe had failed. They are the product of a negligent up bringing, wanting of health and security and love. With an unmatched desire , acute sense of  justice and an extreme misguided execution , they are born. They come.

Justice is flawed. It is subject to change because of the involvement of the human mind. It is not objective. It is not fair. When criminals become law makers, presidents become child abusers. Everyone is doomed. Psychopaths become generals. A villain is born. As I mentioned those who can , shall never stand in the way of those who will. For how can a dissident be, without a failed system to fight. How can they survive with sheer will power , when their genesis was greed?

A flawed justice deserved.

As I stopped seeing the world as black and white, I knew and I began to understand deeply what it felt like to be enraged at injustice ,at undue mockery and impartiality. I knew if I was given the keys, I'd make the multiverse right. My way.

I don't hate heroes, for they are the same as villains. They want good. They want justice. They want equal representation in politics, religion and society. They want economic stability.They approach life with the kind of naïveté that often made me feel so terrible about the level of cynicism that I have towards mankind and almost made me want to put my entire existence, in the hands of a Jeffry Damah lookalike. That was if I was even a male.

Peace is non- everlasting . Pain is infinite

...

It was an ordinary Sunday when the world ended. Whole families dressed in their finest strolled down cobblestone pavements , conversing intimately whilst bathing in the radiant morning sun on their way to Easter mass. A bold middle aged man in a black tuxedo matched with a black hat and white shirt actively engaged nearly every one that passed by his front yard, giving them blue coloured pamphlets. Birds singed away blissfully . With the clear blue sky and suburban neighbourhood, the atmosphere was too serene. There was even this senior lady walking her uncoorperative dog.

All of a sudden it was sunset. Thick red clouds began to rise from the eastern horizon blocking out the sun . A high pitched ringing whistle threatened to burst my eardrums as a strong large shock wave shook everything. I looked outside our dining room window to see some black fog that had a uniformity too symmetrical to be natural with its tendrils advancing more like long fingers than pretty curles and swirls. It's colour wasn't natural either and it was undulating ,moving like a block being pushed.The black fog too seemed to originate from the east as well.

Gradually the awful noise died down and an eerie silence registered. The streets where as black as soot and devoid of life . A few houses across had their lights on but the rest where in darkness .

I remember when it all changed.One day it was roses and rainbows and the next it was no colors and wilted flowers. I remember how they all watched as my life was brutally torn apart for no reason  , how they snickered and allied themselves with the perpetrators . Overtly flaunting their allegiance , mocking me for being the victim. Enjoying the spoils of my vanquished family.

Neighbors and comrades alike , stared ahead as if they did not see. When I called for help, they did not hear . It was as if they could not see me, even when I stood in front of them. My woes where , apparently, invisible to the world. To them I was imagining things. To them , it was as if my family never existed.

I at first,had hoped it was only the justice system. But as I analyzed, the cause began to emanate from everywhere ; the government  , my neighbors. The whole country needed a cleansing. How many more where like me? How many more were being made to be just like me?

Those who I thought were my allies, those who I assumed to be friends and well wishers, disappointed me . Deeply . I felt cornered and abandoned . I felt hopeless and helpless .I can't say I feel any better now , no one can be the same after such  terrible events happening to them. Nor can I say sincerely I have moved. I've just become less prone to evil .

I did what I thought was right. I did the best I could. But in the end , the price for the happiness of the greater masses, was my freedom . I had to become the darkness, in order for the world to have light. And in the end, my glory was stolen, my hard work undermined and my name soiled. I became the monster while the real evil doers feigned victim hood.

Grief was then followed by anger. Things I thought myself incapable of accomplishing, I executed with ease and without hindsight. I did it all in the name of my family and my name. I did all for me. I was the deciding factor . I determined who lived and who died, who gave birth, who feel I'll. I was like a deity. I was supreme and powerful and I thought my creator would be very pleased in creating a being like me , so willing to do perfect deeds and take on great responsibility of ruling the world. I was omega and I felt I'd been alive for centuries, even though I was only ten years old. I was the final prodigy of all time.

And still that too was taken from me. And I was left with only myself.

All I have ever wanted. All I have ever wished for. I created and took , through the misinterpreted  guidance of the wise words of Madame Graxiala. I followed everything I thought was right. I carried the exact steps to ascertain my dominance on this planet. My vanquished foes never rose from their ashes. I buried them flesh and soul, and they never resurrected. New worlds where birthed and modeled to perfection by these hands that now document my tale. These hands that gave life. That took life. But all of those things were taken from me.

But now, the past is in the past and there is nothing I can do to change what I have done . There is nothing I can do to change has been done to me .