Mustafá

Mustafá

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Feb 13, 2017
Entre todas sus memorias perdidas , se encontraba una de las más peligrosas, su obsesión hacia la muerte. Uno de los doctores graduados con excelencia académica en psiquiatría, aprendió a entender los tipos de locuras, todo en su vida marchaba como él lo había planeado, su carrera, su casa, sus pacientes. Al entrar al instituto de readaptación social, se dio cuenta de que cualquier persona se podría perder en el vacío de "enfermedades mentales" platicaba con los pacientes como parte de su terapia, le era imposible razonar con ellos, hasta que llegó alguien que era peligroso, manipulador y enfermizamente sonriente. Llegando a casa su único consuelo era leer junto a su esposa en el gran estudio que tenían, con el tiempo, él fue experimentando y tomando nuevas formas de pensar, sus ojeras eran cada vez más notorias, su carácter empezó a volverse un desastre. Como todo médico, él creía que se solucionaba con tratamiento, pero era algo más allá de su salud, algo que empezaba a poner su vida y su matrimonio en riesgo.
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Strands of your mind cling together like web to a slippery leaf bathed in the morning dew. You have seen both heaven and hell, witnessed the atrocities of war firsthand, and imagined a better life in the deepest, most intimate corners of your dreaming spirit. The wishes for peace and certainty you have once so desperately longed for, now lay trampled underneath the might of your mind's vivid horrors. What was once so bright and lively, now cowers in fear, clinging to gone memories like a shipwreck survivor to some lowly piece of driftwood. From the depths of hell, you arrived victorious, grasping the laurel wreath high above your head. Unrecognizable, with your empty eyes telling a story of innocence brutally taken away from the child curling in shame in the depths of your empty soul. Almost green you are, curly head, having grown up with a rifle by your bedside table, never knowing peace and quiet. Out of the pan that was the Kazdel Civil War and into the scorching flames of Lungmen, where life flows by on its own accord, here, you must learn to live once more. So put on your best facade, Let the reuniting trumpets ring a wild, And allow the city to swallow you whole. Here we are, a continuation of my previous work "Goodbye Curly Head", which sprawled into quite the epistle (but it wasn't really a letter, it's just long :P). Summarized in the most basic way possible, it's a story about a twenty-year-old Kazdel Civil War veteran who goes to Lungmen and has some troubles acclimating to the steady life presented before him. Sprinkle in a too-good-to-be-true offer and a freshly established logistics company, and you get Andy trying to make it big for as long as his deteriorating mental state lets him. I'd say it works as a standalone story for anyone who doesn't want to bother reading the first part. For now, at least. As always, please, pwwease leave a comment, positive, negative, I LOOOVE reading and replying to comments!!

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