love, read, write

Of course, I have no idea whether I'll continue this story or not, or whether I even like this story. But a thought came into my head, and I have decided to write the beginning of a story.
Just the beginning, for now. Maybe that's all it will be, a beginning, nothing more, nothing less, a forgotten beginning with no end.

It's too late for (your story here), but I'm going to write anyway, because there's no rule that keeps you from writing.

So here goes.


 PROLOGUE:
My mind is empty. No. My mind is full of anger, pure anger, sought for revevnge, avengement, something that is beyond words, expressions, feelings. I feel a radiant buzz and myself glowing, but I don't restrain myself, as I clench my already white fists, walking down the dissolving hallway.
It turns into a boardwalk, that familiar boardwalk-bridge that I'd always seen and walked through every day after school, that joyful boardwalk. But there's a different feeling to it. Everything is hazy, and faint, with slight vibrations shaking the air and atmosphere.
I clench my fists.
Everything I see, I hate. I hate that chair, I hate that floor, I hate that river, hate that fence, hate that water, hate myself.
I walk down the boardwalk, but it doesn't seem to end. It goes on, on, and on.
And suddenly, I am afraid. I run.
There is no end. And I look back. There is no beginning.
And slowly, the thought dawns on me: there was no beginning.
Far away, in front of me, I see a little figure, running in circles.
At sight of a human, I am so glad and grateful, for a moment, I forget my anger and grief and guilt.
I run, but as I get closer, I restrain myself from running and hugging it. Who is that person?
Why are they running in circles?
And as I move closer, I hear the person, who is laughing.
Why are they happy?
I move closer, feeling attracted by this laughter.
This familiar laughter.
Suddenly, the light changes, a sun appears out from behind the shadowed clouds, the haziness, the humid tense feeling disappears, and is replaced by joyfulness, and sounds fill the air almost immediately. But right before that almost immediately, when you can hear muffled sounds from other people, as if you're covering your ears, as the world turns bright and colorful, there is that moment. That moment when you hear just that laughing, clear, ringing through this space, this place I am at, as other noises are muffled and barely heard. And just like that, the moment passes.
There are people all around me, as I look around, the people seem to ignore me. But that girl, that girl spinning in circles--she has not disappeared along with that feeling.
She is still there. And now, she's running to me.
I look at her, with this weird familiar feeling, thinking, 'I've seen her somewhere. Seen her somewhere, Seen her somewhere...' repeating to myself, when she comes running into my arms.
"Annie! I missed you!"
Then it hits me.
I stagger back, astounded. Dumbfounded.
"No, you didn't." I say firmly.
She looks at me in this weird way, so I repeat it. "NO, you DIDN'T!" I scream now.
"YOU DIDN'T!"
Tears form in her eyes, the little sparkling marbles of sorrow rolling down her face, as she runs to her new mother, who is standing a few feet away.
I feel all eyes on me, now. Even the people who had ignored me before.
I'm on a roll.
"THIS IS A DREAM."
She hugged her mother's legs, sobbing.
"YOU'RE DEAD."
My throat is dry.
"AND I'M GOING TO KILL YOUR MURDERER."
Everyone seems to take a step back.
A woman comes to me, and hugs me.
"Anna, Please." She is pleading to me.
Why is she pleading to me?
"Please, Anna."
Now she changes the order. Does that mean something else?
"NO! STOP!" I scream. I don't understand.
These people are traitors.
These people aren't people... the thought comes to my mind.
And then I realize the truth. They're... monsters.
"YOU MONSTER!"
"Honey, please!" Her voice is rising.
"YOU FILTHY MONSTER, TRAITOR! I TRUSTED YOU. YOU ARE NOT A HUMAN!"
"Honey!"
A man steps beside her, and he whispers to her.
Something about killing me, probably. They're probably communicating through telepathy, but they are trying to decieve me into thinking they are human.
"I AM NOT A FOOL!"
The man looks at me with sorrow in his eyes, as he says, "Hon, it's time for you to stop playing fantasy. Come to reality."
And as he spits that name, Reality, I shudder. Loathe, hate, despise.
"NO!" I scream. "NO!"


---


Monday, June 27. Ten days before the Incident

I am a girl. I am ten and a half years old. My parents are dead. They died in a car accident. They loved me. I need someone to love me.
It was the sentences I had repeated to those two strangers who were sitting across from me, at the table.
"Hi, Annabeth. I'm Lily. This is Tom. We are going to adopt you."
I think of dogs. Dogs on TV. TV is the box that shows things that are outside of the room. Sometimes, they are not real. Sometimes, they want to make you think a certain way. Sometimes, they are real, and you learn information from it.
Information is something that is true, and it is very useful.
Each sentence rolls through my head, remembering it being repeated to me, by that nice lady in the white coat, who always let me play with blocks, arrange letters, or draw pictures, with the little colorful sticks called crayons.
Crayons are what you draw with, she had said.
Crayons have different colors.
Colors are one of the attributes to what you see.
This is red.
This is blue.
I remember every word she said.
And I repeat it to myself.
I miss that nice lady. Mindy, she said.
I miss Mindy.
Mindy is her name.
A name is an attribute to a person. It makes the person unique, so that you can identify them easily.
I repeat that to myself.
My name is Annabeth Truce.
Mindy did not tell me what Truce means.
Annabeth is the combination of Anna and Beth, which is short for Elisabeth. Anna means grace or mercy. Elisabeth means 'God is my Oath'. They are both Hebrew names.
I like my name. It is triangular, and it makes me feel very happy. It reminds me of candy, peppermint candy.
Candy is something you eat that is sweet. But it is not good for you if you eat it too much.
Vegetables are good for you. She hands me the bowl, that has something called salad.
And they are tasty.
No, they are not. Candy tastes better. I spelled out each word through my tongue, saying it slowly.
She looked at me.
I am proud of you, she said slowly. You have learned many words.
What is proud? I ask.
She does not answer. Instead, she hugs me, and says it again. I am proud.
I don't know what proud is, but I like proud.

Now, Mindy is gone, like my parents.

The man looks at me with sorrow in his eyes, as he says, "Hon, it's time for you to stop playing fantasy. Come to reality."
And as he spits that name, Reality, I shudder. Loathe, hate, despise.
"NO!" I scream. "NO!"
Suddenly, I see the woman has tears in her eyes. They glisten like the plastic crystals that Mindy let me play with.
Let's play treasure chest, she always said when I played with them.
But these crystals, they shimmer, then fall.
The woman hugs me, and she holds me tight. I loosen a little.
"Nononononononononononono..." I whisper, my voice hoarse from screaming.
"I'm proud of you." She hugs me tighter.
Suddenly, I cry. Tears streak down my face, leaving little trails of sorrow and grief.
"I love you, Mindy. I love you, Mindy. I love you, Mindy."
I know Mindy is gone. I know I will never see Mindy. I know she is not Mindy.
The woman strokes my hair.
"I love you, Annabeth." She strokes my hair.