Empathy with the dead

Empathy with the dead

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación sáb, abr 10, 2021
Someone from my grandma's times said that, "Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself." I was never great with this understanding or emphasizing stuff. From the moment I learned to walk, I have done everything on my terms. I studied what I wanted, dated who I wanted, drive at the speed of the wind, broke rules I didn't like and enjoyed life to its fullest. And I don't have an apology for any of it. Giving a damm about what others think was never my style. I am a free bird and my talons are always ready to protect my freedom. I didn't really care about other's feelings. Not that I am rude or outright blunt, I just don't care. My tomboyish look and attitude aren't the most attractive thing to the opposite gender. Thank God for that, I don't have to deal with those sweet chocolate promises of eternal love (that die in 2 months in reality) that plagues today's teenagers. That left dating just a new hobby to try. Empathy is not my cup of tea. But the nature spirits of my family may have other ideas. It blessed (or cursed) me with this strange power to feel the emotions of those who were buried. Those emotions are not haunting me, they rather seem sad. And it is in my power to switch them off. But what would it feel like to hold a regret of eternity? That it. I shouldn't have felt the last sentence. But somehow I did. Especially when my grandma joined the buried and left the burden of her legacy on me. Now I have to make a choice. Whether to ignore this strange feeling and continue to just enjoy my life. Or open my heat to the emotions radiating from graves. I cannot empathize with living. Am I even qualified to empathize with the dead?
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I am just about to turn around and head down the alley toward the street when I see two shadows step away from the wall a little farther down from where I am standing. I can't see any features, but I can guess from their statures that they are both men. I don't know what species they are though, but given that they just witnessed me kill a vampire I decide it's time to get the hell out of here. At least they aren't blocking my path to the street. Just as that thought crosses my mind, I hear the back door to the club open and close. I don't want to take my eyes off the men in front of me, but I have to see who just walked out. To assess the new danger. Before turning to look though, I pull out my remaining weapon also hidden in my boot. A silver dagger. It's only really good for killing werewolves, but it can do some damage to other supernaturals too. I give the figures in front of me one last look, they haven't moved at all, and then glance behind me. My breath stops for a moment, and it feels like my heart stops along with it. *** Willow is a witch who hunts down and kills other supernaturals. After the Great Massacre of the Wiccan Community, their population had been decimated. So while they try to rebuild their population and plan their revenge, they take out as many supernaturals as they can. But everything changes for Willow when she meets Keaton, Everett, Aizen, and Devlin. *** *This is a fantasy reverse-harem romance novel. It will have mature themes, including but not limited to, violence, sexual themes, sexual scenes (including light BDSM), abuse, and mentions of rape. Please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with any of these things or if you feel they will be harmful to your mental health.

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