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Lore, history and other content by the citizens of Underlight preserved for posterity.
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The Chosen
Posts: 22
Joined: Fri Dec 21, 2018 1:37 am
Character Name(s): Sadara


Post by Sadara » Wed May 22, 2019 7:36 pm

A tear stained page that seems to have been torn from a book is loosed from the back of the plum diary that sits on the ground

... why did I stop at the door for that moment? It might've been the memories... the memories of that broken down wooden shack. Though as dark as they may be, my twin brother and I had to rely on each other during those 5 years. And at that moment, I realized that I couldn't even remember his name. Through all the murders, abuse, and black magic... I couldn't even remember his name. Within those few seconds I had a choice to make, stay and protect him or leave and escape the hell that I've had to endure. I realized in that moment that sometimes, you can't make people do something that they don't want to do... I can only do so much begging and pleading to get him to budge. Nothing worked...
So I ran as fast as I could... not even looking back. The woman screamed something out the door, something so ear piercing that it made my ears bleed yet I continued running. While running through the dark and damp woods I cried thinking about the torture. The ways that she would slap me across my face, leaving welts of her long nails across my cheek. The induced vomiting on regular basis whenever she would force us to drink one of her potions. The blood libels she forced us to watch and partake in after kidnapping another one of the Man's bastard children. The faces of those children... I will never forget their screams...
The smell of the dank swamp refreshed me. It was much better than the smells of boiling blood, bile--

Through the ever passing derelict woods, I kept envisioning the face of a demon that always seemed to be in my nightmares. It was this... ape-like demon... sitting on my chest, just staring at me with these big eyes the size of lemons and the color of a pitch black soul piercing gaze. I remember telling my brother who was avid in reading, he had told me before that demon was an Incubus. He then just never spoke of it again, even after I had asked him many times what that Demon was supposed to be... he never told me. I do know years later... and I finally found out what that woman's purpose was, a Witch who wanted to create more witches... and how she wanted to do that was cast a spell on me... my nightmares were not coincidental they... were actually happening.

After randomly running through the woods for what seemed like days, I had reached an opening in the woods, a small village. The sun pierced through the rest of the little bit of woods as I walked closer toward the village. I had never seen the sun like that in such a bright and hot ray. As I got to close to village this woman that I could barely make out as I was blinded and my eyes were squinted almost to a close. That wonderful woman, my adoptive mother, ran up to me wrapping a blanket, a hand woven wool blanket around me. Behind her I saw in the window the silhouette of a tall boy. That boy was Sendea. My new adoptive mother, looked at me with the most worried expression I've ever seen on a person, she kept asking me was I alright, was I hurt... my attire was worrisome. My hair was matted with blood, dirt, and loose leaves. I wore a burlap sack that was stained with splattered dried blood, streaks of ashes, and torn holes from wear. On my feet were the same socks... brown with caked on mud, excrement and dead leaves. My face I don't know... I must've looked... scary...
My adoptive mother took me into her house as she cleaned me with soap that smelled like honeysuckle, clothed me with a soft cotton dress, and fed me a vegetable soup that was the best I'd ever had.
As I sat there at her feet as she combed through my hair, I thought back to what that Witch screamed at me...
Something that I never gave any attention to...
Something that frightened me even thinking of what it could mean...
Something that makes me scared of myself...
Time. Some use it to heal, some to help, and others waste it. - {Sadara}
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