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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación jue, sep 21, 2023
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Ficción
Ciencia Ficción
My whole life I've been told to believe that everyone and everything in life has a purpose, that every decision whether good or bad, plays some role in the grand scheme of things. Some people call it destiny and then there's some that think we are all just tiny predetermined pieces on God's universal chess board. My mom is one of those people. When I was young she would take me out at night and show me the stars and tell me how unbelievably vast the universe is. She would tell me that there's millions upon millions of galaxies out there and billions upon billions of stars in those galaxies but yet not one thing in the universe is out of place, that everything had a reason to belong, a purpose, even me. And I believed her.
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#652
firstperson
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I actually did this story about over a month ago, I had just accidentally deleted it, so......yeah. Don't judge please! But, needless to day I am doing the story again so please read, if you like cool, if not, cool. I just love writing. So this story is based off of the villain's perspective. Here we go. No-one has ever loved me. Not one, except my mother, but she is dead now. Because of one word. Humans. They think they know everything, always trying to better the world when they are actually destroying it. Yet they blame me for everything, everything. Not one of them is different. They're all the same. I should know, since they are always out to get me almost every single day. But why do they blame me? I don't know, it's just in a mortal's nature to point the finger at someone else. It's stupid though. They know nothing of my story. Nothing of the Other Side.

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