My career on stage was short but it was certainly memorable. Bright yellow lights focused on me like a deer to headlights, the crowd mesmerized at the "Angel", me, Rose. I had gotten the stage name Angel from a news reporter a few years ago for "the most angelic voice in the world" After the night of the accident though I could not walk or talk, they say accident, I say sabotage. One of the ropes had been cut from the beams above falling on top of me during the world tour festival and it tore my wings away.
Here I am now writing to myself for no one to see or hear. Not that anyone could hear anything but deafening silence from me anymore anyway. Ever since I was young I had wanted to sing and dance but we have to make new memories now. Meet new people, have fun again.
Back when I was in the top 3 artists of the year I had all the fame, maybe some of it got to my head. Was it karma? was it truly an accident or was it an attempt on my life? The police had turned it cold at the end of it all. Everyone had their views about me, some more upsetting than others but that is how the world is I guess. I'm grateful to still be alive today. It could have been much worse. The thought of it makes me feel sick at humanity. There could have been a fire, a bombing, a kidnapping, anything.
My "friends" had left after my fame took a deep dive after I stopped and vanished from the media, which is apparently the only way to stay relevant anymore. Now I only have a nurse who checks up on me every few days of the week which is very nice of her but it is their job. Maybe I should get her something, a token of gratitude. Maybe I should learn their name. My family is not around anymore so it really is just me. I have no distant family members and if I did, why would they want to look after a grown adult with medical bills that cost as much as a lifetime?
My home is calm and collected, minimal in objects but it is all for function not for any materialistic value, it's still a big home nevertheless. It has 2 stories, 3 bedrooms out of use with bathrooms attached, and marble kitchens with a grassy backyard. I only have the house because it was given to me, fully paid and the land is sacred, so it can never be taken away.
That is it. That is my life and that is how I got here.
YOU ARE READING
The Worlds Obsession
Short StoryFrom genetically created dinosaurs, space, asylums, war and poems here is a book of random stories I have written. Romance, horror, sadness and happiness. I hope you enjoy reading these short stories.
