Enter, stage right, we have Dr. Allegra Sue, psychiatrist of the stars and superheroes, who thinks her life is perfect but somewhere in the stretch of 24 hours, she dies. Literally flatlines. I mean that not in a poetic sense, no, not as in how you said you "literally died" when your boss found your online dating profile. Allegra dies as in she gets blown up, drowned, choked, attacked by zombies, dissected, decapitated, mutilated, and so on. And she wakes up the next day as though nothing happened. She is oblivious. Then, again, she gets poisoned, bitten by a snake, attacked by a monster baby, crushed by a stampeding mob, etc., ad infinitum.
Okay, fine, if you must really know, she's an alcoholic. (Alcohol slackens the communication of the nerves in your hippocampus. Best avoid it at all costs, kids.) Still and all, she is one of the most renowned psychiatrists-if not THE most renowned-in the galaxy. Soon enough, some extraterrestrial research company detects the phenomenon happening to her. And everybody comes to her rescue. Happy days.
Allegra's acceptance of this ridiculous truth, i.e., her dying and resurrecting every day, would lead her into revelations of more ridiculous truths about her life and of life itself.
{COMPLETED} "now that you've had your fun electrocuting me, would you care to hop in the backseat?"
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Freak DNA. That's what I like to call it.
The fault to my genetic code. More often than not, it's a curse.
The static running through my blood gave me a name. A cruel, daunting label of a measly bug. A roach. That's what I am to them, to the government. Roach; the nameless monster with electricity for a sense and lightening as a second nature. It ruined my life, the sparking currents playing tag in my mind, running around and bumping into everything, shaking me loose.
The government, actually. They ruined my life. My curse just gave them a reason.
You see, the normal population with ordinary DNA, they don't know about the people like me. The roaches of the world. We don't get that kind of recognition at the camps. There, we are only one thing in the military's eyes. We are weapons and we will act like it.
Everyone else out there, bathing in the goodness they don't know they've got, they don't know about the roaches their stepping on. As long as their getting closer to the sky, they don't care what they stand on to reach it.
They don't know about the sparkling dreamer that's killed 7 people before her 17th birthday.
They don't about the ghost of a girl peaking around corners for her entire life because even home wasn't safe.
They don't know about the fighter of steel and iron sucking on his bloody lip courtesy of the wars he battles in as nothing but a shadow.
They don't know about the masked villain who would do anything to see the army they lead claim the throne
They don't know about us. But they will, because we will rise. And when we arrive, we will arrive violently.
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Started: 10.06.15
Finished: 3.17.16