Chronique de Fatima : Ma mère

Chronique de Fatima : Ma mère

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Salut ! jmappelle Fatima j'ai 16 ans,jsuis au lycée ( c dla merde) bref arrêtons de parler de moi et parlons plutôt de ma famille............ Euh...non enfaite que de ma mère parce que appart elle j'ai personne .Quand j'était petite mon père nous a quitter avec mon grand frére. Mais avec ma mère on a oublier cette histoire et nous avons commencé une nouvelle vie. J'suis heureuse mais............
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My name was once Mia Elizabeth Vauthier. I was the princess of a great land where wolves, grander than any other creature shifted freely between animal and man. Where nature and its inhabitants lived together in an uninterrupted harmony. Where the supernatural was not abhorred by those arrogant beings that called themselves humans. Here the supernatural was just as part of nature as the trees and the grass, just as the Goddess had wished it to be. Since the day of my birth, I had been the envy of all the land. I would be powerful I would be great I would be blessed by the Goddess... Or so they had thought. When I was meant to shed my fragile human skin and flow smoothly in the Goddess' blessed creature of the night, I did not. It did not happen when I was sixteen, or seventeen, or eighteen. The shock had been like steaming water, trickling down the naked skin, tearing skin as it went leaving ugly marks that could never be removed. I became stained. The Princess who was an omega and not just an omega, a wolfless omega. An empty shell, a box with no contents, a heart with no blood. Just an empty vessel. I wished so desperately to fill the empty space with something worth more than the haunting echoes of what should have been but that was not my fate. Instead the once beloved princess I was cast aside, thrust into a tower with no promise of a prince to rescue me. The only dragon that guarded me was my own mind, a sharp weapon which would slowly poison me. I thought nothing could save me... Perhaps it is still too late.

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