As I’ve posted before I said I wanted to link some of my stories here. They won’t all be finished right away but they are all pieces I will be trying out on you, my readers. I would appreciate some feedback as well. Write it all in the comments below!
A lot of my stories come from prompts or assignments I give myself, so many don’t have a direct link to y life or anything that has to do with what I’ve been through. But they all are researched and linked to my imagination so I try to sound as real as possible in my fictional writing. All rights reserved, so don’t go copying my work. Here you go, a small excerpt from my short story Lost Soul:
Missing persons reports feel so surreal when you’re seeing them scroll past on TV. You ever wonder who those people are or were? Isn’t it so strange to think that that human just one day disappeared from the existence of their loved ones lives? As if it’s magic. Have you ever tried to put yourself into the loved ones shoes? The realization that your potential son or daughter or roommate or brother or sister just isn’t anywhere to be found. How scary that must be? The late nights searching. The frantic phone calls. The begging to the police and strangers for help finding that person. It must be a horrific disaster. So many tears and bitten down fingernails building into yelling at the police to do their job for once, and then finally accepting that they may never come home again. That is so terrifying, for anyone…
But what if you saw one day you were the person plastered all over Missing Persons News paper articles? The ones usually seen stapled to every telephone pole all around the neighborhood with a baby picture. You know, the baby photos that you never saw because your parents told you they all burned up in the house fire that happened when you were 3-years-old. Those photos you could never really recognize, but the living image of the “years later” generated face next to it is the same face you see in the mirror. And this all hitting you smack in the face before breakfast one morning. Yeah, well basically it feels like pins-and-needles in all of your extremities with a pinch of panic induced terror stirred in. Trust me.
Granted…. I shouldn’t have been snooping in my parents room but sometimes who hasn’t done it once or twice in there life right? Now I see that might have been my psyche trying to lead me to the truth, but I can only make assumptions. Looking back now as I sit waiting to meet my real parents in the police station still smeared in my fake parents blood, that doesn’t seem very important.
Until next time,