From the time you are born to the time you die if you are a girl, you are owned by your father. Only you can't call him that you must call him Master, Sir, or what I call my father, Mr. Caeph. Once you are five, you must learn how to clean, cook, and obey. At ten you are put to work. At age thirteen you are taught a talent like to sing, dance, draw something that makes you different. At sixteen you are put on stage to show your talent to a group of bidders and your Master sells you to the highest one. The bidder will have a son that helped him pick you and you will be forced to spend time with him. Then once you are twenty, the son owns you and nine times out of ten he will marry you.
Hi, guys, I hope you like my book, I am hoping when I finish it that I can get it published and make a hard copy of it, like an actual book.
Ranked #226 in Adventure
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Love. It was infuriating yet strangely addicting.
It swirls in unknown waters, testing its limits before striking. The sensation of its claws digging into your flesh was all it took for it to become entranced.
And then everything collapsed.
Everything began to untangle. Everything slowly crumbled to ground.
Everything began to fall apart.
And you found yourself in the centre of it all, your hands cradling your heart as tears trickled down your cheeks, the salty liquid creating a dark patch on your jeans as it hit the soft fabric.
You're vulnerable. You're scared. You're hurt.
You're broken.
But when you finally have the courage, to wipe away an trace of a broken heart. When you finally lift yourself from the dark pit you had created. When you finally patch together the remnants of your shattered soul. When you finally close your eyes. When you forget. When you become invincible.
When you finally heal.
It all comes back.
Everything.
Like an arrow that had been shot in your back, your eyes widening from the unforeseen attack.
That's what happens.
Because love is dirty.
Love was the ugly, ever changing shadow that would snarl at you, jeering at your pitiful state.
But then it was also the beautiful stroke of the paintbrush, as the brush winded across the canvas, the colours flourishing into life.
Love was a demon, yet also an angel in disguise.
That was love.
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[ WARNING ⚠ : I wrote this as an inexperienced pre-pubescent so prepare for a cringefest. So before you call me out, think about the kid you're swearing at :) ]
COVER BY SAMUELSTORMBRINGER
[ COMPLETED ]
HIGHEST RANKS:
#31 in romance 09.11.17
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#1 in marriage 30.03.19