its not easy dealing with the dead

its not easy dealing with the dead

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The sun shined down on the group of six pellets,of water dripped down on her clothes immediately leaving imprints to be remembered by even if were for just a few seconds,the sunshower seemed out of place for the small town such a dark atmosphere did not correlate with the blissful combination of the sun and the rain. the town as you can imagine was run down beyond belief,there were druggies on every corner you rounded, the children ran through the streets there clothes ragged and torn there cheeks stained with oil in that rugged group of children one boy stood out.
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In the quiet desert village of Dey, living among the sand dunes and mirages, existed an anomaly - me. I was different, born without the ability to read, write or keep long memories. My scientist father hailed my uniqueness as a miracle, but my life was far from ordinary. To the village, I was just an oddity, a walking puzzle with missing pieces. My only solace was my best friend, always standing by me, his unspoken love for me etched in his affectionate gaze. We lived under a cruel regime with a population no more than a hundred. Every year, one of us would be chosen on the Counting Day, a ceremonious banishing ritual, to become yet another outcast to the floating prison island far off in the ocean - our village's dreaded version of population control. Our past criminals, defiant to government, and more terrifyingly, our loved ones gone missing, were thought to inhabit that island, their fate, a terrifying enigma. This year, as the Counting Day approached unrelentingly, and my loved one's life rested on borrowed time, I made a decision. I volunteered to be casted out. It was my turn to face the unknown with a hidden purpose - to locate my lost father who was sent there years ago.

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