16 Ways Reality Isn't Fiction

16 Ways Reality Isn't Fiction

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Feb 3, 2014
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Fiction
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"Books. Movies. They provide us humans a way to lose ourselves. They give us a perch near the stars, somewhere that is too distant for us to ever reach on our own. But then once they are out of our grasp, we are plunged back into reality. Back to what is known to us. Stress. Non-perfection. There's no flawless skin, no love at first sight. There's no magically getting an A on your bio test you never studied for (unfortunately), and there's no easy paths and no shortcuts to dodging the misery and the anger. In order to accomplish anything, I believe that you have to differenciate the two things, fiction and reality. You have to realize that there are no dreams that come true. You have to realize that there are no happy endings." -The Blog of Reality Sky Harrison is living in hell. Fictional characters aren't. It's as simple as that. They don't have to hide their blog, their drug use, or their unusual addiction. They don't have to deal with humiliation that never lessens or no solutions to their problems. They have a defined ending. You can turn to the last page or skip to the last minute and see what happens to them. Sometimes they're even lucky enough to have an epilogue that tells them what's waiting on their timeline. Sky isn't that that lucky, though. She has to deal with real life.
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  • Unchained

They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.

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