The Author | Backstories #1

The Author | Part 2

Pulling her notebook out of her satchel, she flipped it open, gazing at the hundreds of jokes inside; some of which she had worked on for hours, even days. But the disappointment that had overcome her was too overwhelming. One by one, she angrily tore the pages out, throwing them right onto the sidewalk. The wind picked them up, blowing them away. She slumped down, covering her face with her hands.

After eventually making it home, it was late, and she was exhausted. Her bed seemed like the only joy in her life that would forever stay. She fell onto it and muttered under her breath, "curse all of you imbeciles." This phrase she spoke may sound somewhat non-threatening, like something a child would say when being overdramatic. But she had never meant anything more in her entire life thus far.

The next morning she awoke and got dressed, readying to meet Brock at their usual spot - in the library downtown. She opened the front door and picked up the morning newspaper, wanting to set it on the kitchen counter for her dad. But what she saw in the front page added new fuel to the rage that still lingered from the day prior. I don't need to tell you what it said; it's obvious what the article was about. It was a smaller city, and word seemed to travel at an unprecedented rate there. She was so furious that she could have choked a person to death in that very moment. Tearing the whole newspaper in half, she threw it in the trash. She was filled with so much anger and hatred. But what she didn't know, was she was beginning to be overcome by something else too, and not just because of the heavy emotion. She was starting her descent into darkness. A darkness so selfishly evil that it now seems incomprehensible to the average person.

She never met with Brock that day. In fact, she didn't even leave the house at all. Her entire life prior to that point was filled with ridicule and harassment from all of her peers; the only exception to that being Brock. But she had never fought back, not once, always convincing herself that they did it for some excusable reason. She had always turned the other cheek, ever since she could remember, and she was sick of always being the 'good girl' that was 'okay with everything.' And thus, a villain was born.

~~~~~

"Wait, wait, wait," Brock interrupted, "First of all, there is no way in hell that you thought of this just now. Second of all, you'd full-on go to the dark side just because someone didn't laugh at a joke? That's a whole new level of overreaction, especially to something like that. This honestly doesn't seem too realistic. Plus, this was justs supposed to be your power and your villain name, not the whole origin story. And one more thing; why are you mixing in real life events with this? Like the comedy club and not meeting me during the summer, that all really happened." Jessica glared at him. "Oh shush, I'm really into this, I've given it a bunch of thought. Besides, I'm just getting to the good part! And as for the name...she'd colloquially be called, 'The Author.' Now let me continue the story." Brock held his hands up, and nodded in agreement.

~~~~~

In nearly every story, the villain believes themselves to be the hero. Look at Hitler for example. He was a cruel, vicious human being, and if anyone could go back in time and kill him, I'm profoundly sure they would. But he was not criminally insane, nor did he do it out of pure enjoyment. He genuinely thought himself to be the hero of his story, though everyone else knows, he was not a hero whatsoever. This is how Jessica felt, as the darkness grew inside of her. She wanted to end all of those people; she had nothing but hatred for them. She wanted everyone to love her, to see her point of view.

It would seem the darkness planted the seed for a particular idea inside of her mind, convincing her to take a psychotic step towards achieving what she so badly wanted. She seemed to recall catching a few glances of a single, very unique shelf of books at the library that nobody ever seemed to go near. And this is exactly what that seed rooted in her mind told her she wanted. So she went back to the library, and made a beeline for that single shelf, picking up a large book off of it. One by one she began reading every single book she could find on the manipulation of the mind, and even the manipulation of physical objects. The more she read, the more she truly believed in her heart, and in her very soul, that it was possible to do this, and she knew she would learn how, and use it to achieve her dreams.

After weeks of studying, practicing, and praying, she came to a literate event horizon. There was no way to be able to have complete control of true psychic manipulation. Although, certain spiritual books she read claimed an individual could if they were born with a certain mark. The mark resembled the type of scratch you'd get if attacked by a tiger or other large feline. And unlucky enough for Jessica, she had never seen this mark anywhere on her body...that is, until later that day. That evening while changing into her baby blue tank-top, she caught a quick glance of the back of her shoulder in her bathroom mirror.

The mark...it was there. Clear as day. While she was filled with pure joy knowing that she would possibly be able to get what she wanted, there were a few pages of a particular book that talked about the mark that she forgot to read. You see, the mark isn't something you're born with, or given. It's something that's forced upon you by pure darkness. And the darkness inside Jessica had boiled up for so long that at this point in time, she had no chance of ever having full control over it.