Cold. All I can feel is cold.
Dark, icy shards cloud my memory and I can't stop thinking about them. I try to forget, try to move forward, but I can't. How can I? How could anyone?
They can't. I can't.
I can only feel.
Cold. Sad. Alone. Wishful. Scared. Worried. Lonely. Longing. Hurt. Chilled. Desperate.
And hungry. Ever so hungry. I haven't eaten a real meal in years.
I'm scrawny. Thin skin hangs off my bones. There's not much fat that can be found anywhere on my body. I wish I could eat. I long for a day when there's real food on the table. A day where I don't hear words screamed across the room. A day when I can smell something other than alcohol.
What a wonderful day that would be.
I wish that such a day even existed. It probably does for others. But not for me. Never for me.
Authors note: this is the first thing I've written (other than in school). I'm sorry the chapters are so short, there will be a lot of them though! This is structured like a regular novel, so it may take a decent amount of chapters before it gets really good. Please give me any feedback or ideas that you have, I have a basic plan for this novel, but I am open to suggestions! Thanks!
YOU ARE READING
The Secrets of Superbium
FantasyThe human world does not exist. The only world that does exist is a world in which only a small handful of people have special abilities. These people are special, and they are valued above all else. From birth, those who have no special abilities a...
