Ever since you closed my covers I have been thinking about what I said and I am very sorry. I wish I could make it up to you in some way…. What!? You want another story!? Fine… I said I would do it… But I get to choose a good one.
In a dark castle above the Black Sea was an evil king just waiting for the arrival of some poor beggar. A mere peasant at the least, so he could hang them. Make them suffer and thrash their dirty bodies around as they were tormented. He wanted to kill them all, one by one. They took up the streets like filthy rats and they smelled like the rodents, too. But they were joyful, no matter who was skinned alive on one day, then another was beheaded the next. They felt sorrow all the same, but continued to lighten the burden of one another. The king was furious when he had heard from one of his spies that some of the town’s folk were setting up a rebellion. The king sent out troops to raid the houses of suspected rebellions. They found nothing that showed that they were taking against their master. So like dumb slaves, they told their master that every single one of the suspects were in it together. The troops also liked the sound of pain as the crowd watched their loved ones die. They were sick, sick minded men indeed. They watched as the population of town people declined tremendously, but the people were leaving. There were more people gone then in the pit were they stored the decaying bodies- What is it now? Too evil? Please, it is the story I want and not some cheesy story about prancing unicorns and rainbows, okay? You…. I tried to make up for what I did and you rejected me! Like a doll you used to love, and then years later you threw it away. My world is not always happy people! You on the other hand…. You have it easier than my pitiful world. My painful world, my numbing world. So don’t you judge my stories because of how much different they are from your mind! I am tough; I dwell on the blood of others. I like man-eating scenes, but you would get scared of a bunny munching on a carrot. Look at the world, kid. How much different is it from my stories? And from your frilly picture books. It is a whole another deal here. Big huggable teddy bears or mauling by black bears. Which is more realistic? A girl who killed 20 boys in one night given some slack because she is just so darn cute, or would she get electrocution? Which follows your law enforcements better? So don’t pretend you know more than my 1, ooo year old mind. You don’t. You are only a small mind. You don’t know the secrets of the earth, but I do. I know how old you were when you first saw your dad and mother. You don’t remember me, but I remember you. I saw when you were born. You were nothing like you look like now. I know all your secrets, including when you die. I will not tell you, or else you can screw up the ghost of death. Is it preventable? Yes, I suppose so. If only you die before that time. Many people have many different ways of dying in this world, and yours is not preventable. Not an over dose, not a murder. I will tell you how you die, but not when you die. You will die because of age, no shark or gang attacks. Just of wrinkled skin and a weak heart. Doesn’t that sound peachy? But, I can’t tell you what happens after you die. Maybe I will. Fine I will, but you should get some sleep, it has been a long day. Don’t forget about the stories. Or the tales of the dead and the lost. Or when you die you’ll be just like me, a haunting spirit, just because you read me. But that’s enough for tonight. Go to sleep. Sweet dreams.