Realities
  • Reads 706
  • Votes 111
  • Parts 10
  • Time 1h 36m
  • Reads 706
  • Votes 111
  • Parts 10
  • Time 1h 36m
Complete, First published Jun 30, 2016
What is real? I know what I saw and experienced, but THEY say it isn't real, that it never happened. THEY say that I'm here for my own good. Who are THEY? Why do they get to decide? I'm so tired I just want to go home...how can I go home?
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Static by hattielynn
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{COMPLETED} "now that you've had your fun electrocuting me, would you care to hop in the backseat?" ---------------------------------------------------------- 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. ___________________________________________ Started: 10.06.15 Finished: 3.17.16
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46 parts Complete Mature
New town. New identity. Same crazy. I love it!!! (insert enthusiastic voice ) (cough, cough) Not!! I hate it. I hate having to to hide who I am. But to protect the civilians and my new home from being destroyed like my last ones, I have obey the leader's rule. No matter if I do disapprove. But all of that changes when I meet, more like bump into someone who's special. ... DOOR OPENS. "Naomi Satchel!" my mother yells as she comes blaring through the doors. "Yes?" I say as I still lie under the covers. My mother pulls my cover from my body and tosses it on the floor. I quickly sit up in my bed and glare at her. "Get your ass up now you have half an hour left before your first-period starts and you better not be late," she demands. "Mom, this isn't my school. This isn't my home. I don't want to go." I whine and beg my mother at the same time to let me stay home. What was I thinking? My mom has an image to uphold being this perfect mother who loves and cares about her little baby girl. We both know the truth. Until a few years ago, I never even knew she existed. She and my father both agreed to send me here because they couldn't stand the fact that I fell in love with a black boy. Although neither of them would ever admit, that's the only reason why I know of her. I don't want to attend a school where I'm going to have to forsake who I truly am just to fit into their liking. How can I explain that to my mom when she sees everything to be black and white.
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Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

33 parts Complete

The average human being spends every second of his day fighting against the force of nature to see another day. But I'm different. I'm not afraid of outside forces to take my life away - only myself. Approximately 10 years ago, something happened to me. Something really bad. But I'm not allowed to talk about it. As a way to release my frustration, I give hell to my body and everyone I come in contact with - especially my parents. No one knows about what happened except the ones who did it...and Him. But he didn't stay. Now, he's back and he's not talking either. I want to stop hurting, I need to stop. Make me stop.