we were once t I ght
H A D to talk every morning and night
messages longer than the books we H O P E D to write
lyrics T O O D E E P it would cause a fight
we were once t I ght
H A D to talk every morning and night
messages longer than the books we H O P E D to write
lyrics T O O D E E P it would cause a fight
You are like a single word, standing on your own with meaning and purpose. But a single word needs other words, in order to truly comprehend its worth. When on that word, I get comfortable, sometimes a little too comfortable. I never want to leave you, afraid I will forget you. But that is just it, you were made to be forgotten and what I remember, I may not be able to choose. I will try to make those memories stick, like putting ink in skin. I will take comfort in knowing that there will be more words ahead, to take me on new adventures, to bring me joy, and to even bring me those sorrowful times. For each moment and each memory will play a part in shaping me into the person I will be, for better or for worse. I will now go and explore the unknown, no longer afraid of leaving thee, for I know when in need you will be.
You are like a paper being pushed by the wind, always changing course, always slipping through the fingers trying so hard to grasp you. I will not try to fathom your divergent moves because even though they may go unexplained to me, they will eventually lead to your destination. I have an idea of where I wish for you to end up, but each move I make threaten your path and sway you violently from side to side. Your turns are abrupt, with no warning you turn to the right or to the left. I pray the way you turn will not bring about pain, I hope the way you turn is the right way. I have a dream for you, one that I pray you choose; however, my dream may not be your dream and my prayer may be answered in ways I could have never foreseen. You are in hands I can not see but I am learning to trust those hands with my destiny. Do not ever be tricked into thinking I will not affect your course, my every move will affect you, I just am unable to control you the way I wish to do.
You are an unfinished book. Your pages will never hold the final story, for there will always be more until there is no more. Ever one of your pages hold the ups and downs that I call my life and they will all come together in a way I may never be able to explain. On these pages are words, they may seem small or frivolous by themselves but when they run into others like them, together, and only together will they will see their worth.
To my past, you have made impacts, whether they be good or bad, on the rest of my life forever. And to my future, you are unseen but exciting. I will learn to trust the hands that hold you but still do my part in effecting you.
I had never seen such chaos like this before, my whole world had in almost every sense, been flipped upside down. The cards had been changed, I was no longer preparing to die but, in fact, preparing for a new life.
That instant tossed everything I ever knew and had known up into the air, never to be seen again. The turmoil and excitement, however, did not just affect me. The moment after Marcus’s knife had gashed the Emperor’s throat, the Colosseum became still, and the faces in the crowd showed nothing but pure disbelief and wonder. They gawked at the man responsible for a death that would influence, perhaps, the rest of their lives.
The Emperor was a cruel and brutal leader, deserving of a cowards death. The mass yearning for his death, however, were not created not by his blunt use of words and force, but the moment he chose to create a new type of entertainment for his empire. This entertainment would draw out his citizens, hooking them in with excitement and adrenaline, but at the cost of tearing apart families and individuals piece by piece….
I remember the night it all started, it was the first time I had ever felt true hate.
I could make out even the farthest of stars in the sky, but I would not be admiring the stars tonight. The town was filled with the wailing of mothers, as their children were being ripped from their arms by the ruthless soldiers in red and silver. These mothers knew not whether their child would last the night or if they would ever see their precious faces again. This was the emperor’s way of recruiting noble gladiators, by grabbing their children right from their arms and instilling terror and fear within their souls. I remembered my mother’s voice when the red and silver came to our door, she screamed and collapsed to her knees begging for them to leave me be, but they dragged me off, just like all the others.
The Emperor’s Noble Gladiators brought more entertainment to the Colosseum than ever before and many forgot all about that dreadful night; however, many did not forget, and would never forgive the acts of abduction and cruelty done by their Emperor.
My body lay still and under white sheets as I saw the door being cracked open, deep in thoughts of my past and not wanting to be disturbed my eyelids fell, pretending to be asleep. I could hear someone walking slowly in, footsteps growing louder as they came closer and closer. The footsteps suddenly stopped, they had reached the edge of my bed. A rough hand was placed gently aginst my damp forehead, the man belonging to the footsteps exhaled strongly and started to weep. Realization hit and I opened my eyes, I had to let him know I was alright. I tried to say his name, but it came out as only a faint whisper and brought about agonizing pain; the gash on my throat had not yet healed from the trauma it had been through. I looked up to see his eyes glimmering with tears as he saw the pain I was in. “I… I am sorry,” he said. His knees started to fail him as he slowly slid down until his elbows had reached the edge of the bed, he then placed his head into his hands, no longer able to look at the pain he had caused. I knew he would blame himself, he always does, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But he had made the right choice, he could not have left that excuse of a leader live any longer torturing and killing hundreds of innocent men, women, and children daily for entertainment. Marcus had always felt responsible for me, it began when we were both young, I had been ripped from my home and forced into the games and he had been thrown in by his abhorrent father, the emperor. As fate would have it, we became a team conquering each match together and he slowly became the brother I never had and I the sister he never had. My mind dragged those memories up once more, to the moment it all happened…
It appeared that no matter how hard I tried I would always end up in the same place, in the dirt, I had gotten myself up again and again but the only thing that had changed was the number of times I had fallen. The heavy steel still felt unfamiliar to my touch, as I had never held such a weapon before, ironic that my life would now depend solely on one. I got up once more and looked at my opponent, the emperor’s son, only to be knocked down once more. What came next was just as surprising, his feet carried him over to my frail helpless body, lying in the dirt, and leaned down to help me up. We became inseparable after that, training day and night and as time went on we slowly became the greatest noble gladiator’s there were.
To this day, I still wonder what had compelled the young emperor’s son to lean down to help me up. Maybe he had felt sorry for me or maybe he didn’t want a young girl’s death on his conscious…….I may never know, but I do know this, I will forever be indebted to him.
My hands grabbed the side of my head as another wave of pain came, my brain was reliving each and every moment that took part in the event that placed me here. Marcus still knelt at the edge of my bed, grabbing my hand he asked me what was happening.
I shook my head from side to side, tears sliding down my cheeks as I still could not speak.
“Octavia, what’s wrong?!” he said.
All I could force out was “Too……much….blood.” My eyelids then closed tight, trying to force the images away.
“We did what we had to,” he said, voice shaking.
I grasped his hand tighter as the memories I had been trying so hard to forget came crashing down. The moment that placed me here, wounding me both physically and mentally were upon me….
I saw Marcus out of the corner of my eye climbing up the Colosseum walls that were keeping us from the crowd, a mass of roman soldiers on his heels. I knew exactly what he was doing, we couldn’t keep this up much longer but getting to the emperor would have a greater influence than dying down here. Marcus was over the wall now making his way to the balcony, the crowd still thinking this was a game, made way for him and tried to prevent the soldiers from getting through. He had reached his father now, he was still and looking straight into his eyes. They stared at each other with so much hate and disappointment that if looks could kill, they would both be dead. Before I could throw my dagger, Marcus grabbed ahold of his father placing his blade at his father’s throat, tempting the beginning of chaos. His voice cracked as he screamed at his father asking him why and how he could ever do this to him. He kept pushing the knife further into his father’s throat, blood spurting out as his father began struggling. I was on the balcony now, watching as the man who killed my parents was gasping for his last breath when I felt a sword on my neck. Marcus stopped but did not lower his knife. We knew this was the end, we had stood up and defied the emperor and his games, and we were ready to finish this. I nodded towards Marcus, there was only a moment’s hesitation before he sliced his father’s throat.
That was the last thing I saw…before the world went dark.
We had done what we planned to do, but we could have never foreseen what would have happened next or even thought we would be alive to see it. I had almost died that day, they said with the amount of blood I had lost I should not have survived, but I did and here I am today.
After the sudden death of the Emperor, the senate was in an uproar and filled with fear of another rising to power moved quickly to make the next of kin, Marcus, emperor. The people needed a strong leader, one they admired and would follow, Marcus was already that man. He had freed their children, gotten rid of the cruel and murderous emperor and was in all respects, next in line being the emperor’s only living son.
After the painful flood of memories had passed I drifted off to sleep.
Marcus got off of his knees and started walking towards the balcony. His feet slowed as he neared the end of the balcony, lips curving into a smile as he felt the breeze brush across his face. In all this chaos it was hard to remember that he was free. He looked up to see the dark and pillow-like clouds inviting rain, it was time for his city to be washed clean. As Marcus turned to go something caught his eye, that fiery blaze would not be the last of the night. Just like any rule, there will always be ones that oppose, and those men were getting stronger and stronger, threatening their new ruler and now his empire.
Marcus looked back at Octavia, she had been through hell and back and she didn’t deserve what he was about to ask her. It would be like asking her to sacrifice more of herself than she already had, but he needed her now more than anything.
1 week later
Marcus walked into my room, his royal clothes now less startling as the days went on, I lifted myself up so my back was straight.
“How are feeling?” he said.
“Stronger every day,” I said, giving him a small but painful smile.
“Good, I am going to need you soon,” he mumbled out.
“What do you mean by that?” I said eyebrows raised.
“There have been uprisings,” he said ” and I need someone I can trust to put these rebels at bay. I know I’m asking a lot, believe me when I tell you I never wanted to throw you back into battle.” He shifted from side to side, not being able to look her in the eyes, his eyes were the window to his soul, a clash of emotions and distress he couldn’t afford to let out. He couldn’t let her see the pain that haunted him. Deep down he knew she could do it, she had been doing the impossible her whole life. Every blow she took was received like it was a challenge, a challenge to be better, a challenge to grow, and a challenge to overcome against all odds.
I looked down at my skinny figure wondering how I would even leave my bed, let alone fight. Lord knows I wasn’t ready to be thrown back into a battle or have the constant guilt of the ones I’ve murdered haunt me day and night. I blocked the thoughts and did the unspeakable…. I moved my legs to the side of my bed, feet touching the ground, rose and brought a knee to the ground. My head spun and my legs felt like they were going to collapse at any moment, but I stayed in place. I brought my fist up to lay on my chest an all too familiar stance I’d hoped to never do again, but I reminded myself that this was different as I spoke saying,”I will protect my home and its armies or die trying, Emperor.” The world spun fast around me and then went dark, as I passed out onto the floor.
5 weeks later
Red, red as far I could see. My hands, my men, and my enemies were all covered in this crimson liquid.
Early that day, a small group of my men and I went out to silence a rebel uprising at the edge of the city. We expected it to be just like all the rest, small groups of men, angry and burning things; we were greeted with nothing like we expected. I had hopped off my black mare as soon as I saw what was up ahead, I tried walking over them but there were too many. The rebels had slaughtered a group of kids in the village like the savages they were, ones lacking a soul. No longer able to look, I looked up to see that one of my men had spotted a trail heading into the woods, I signaled the others off their horses and we took off into the woods….
I swung my sword towards another soulless one, blood spitting out of its flesh as I pulled back only to raise it once more, separating its head from the rest of its miserable body. Gore covered my body from head to toe as I looked at the bloodbath of my victims, tears springing from my eyes and mixing with blood flooded down my face as I killed one soulless child killer after the other.
The sunset ran as red as our victims that night, reminding us of all the lives we took that day.
Your hands are far from clean after you’ve washed them when you carry the title of general or emperor; being a leader to your people requires a certain strength and sometimes the only way to do that is to keep your emotions hidden from the crowd. But those emotions can only stay hidden so long…
I went home that night, needing to clear my thoughts and my heart. As soon as I entered I stood as still as the statues, in shock of my surroundings, it was the same yet so different. The rows, which were always stacked with brutal, loud citizens holding our lives in their hands, were now desolate with only broken dishes and crushed roses. The scene in the center of the amphitheater sent fear running through my body faster than lighting. Trying not to make a sound, I descended as quickly and as quietly as I could. I was an arm’s length away now, his back facing towards me, he was on his knees looking blankly at the ground while holding the edge of his sword to his abdomen threatening too many things. I have seen too much death, the lives that were taken by my hand haunt me night and day but I would not be able to recover from this death.
“Don’t!” I said, my voice cracking. “Look at me, Marcus! Don’t do it…please don’t.”
My eyes looked at his hands, still, they were.
“I don’t wanna fight. I don’t wanna fight anymore,” he said, voice faint.
“I will not accept your life to end like this, these people need you! I still need you. Marcus, you’re the only family I have left, please…don’t…..don’t do this to me.” I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, as I watched his hands grasp the sword tighter.
“You need to let me go, Octavia…let me go.” He said looking up at me, tears in his eyes.
My head swayed side to side violently as tears streamed down my face.
He looked me in the eyes one last time before he pushed the blade in as blood flooded out and he toppled over face down into the dirt.
I rushed to his side, pressing my hands down on his wounds aimlessly trying to stop the blood from leaving his body. “No…no…no…..no…Marcus…NO!! You can’t die, you can’t die!” I took my hands off his dead body and beat my fists on the ground repeatedly, yelling at the world.
My devils still haunt me in the night, waking me up with a tear stained face and throat sore from my screams.
One, two, three, breathe. One, two, three, breathe.
His mind wandered back… his fourth-grade teacher had slowed down and let the rest of the class run ahead as she saw him struggling, his breathing had become heavier and he began to keel over. ” I…can’t… breathe,” I had said still panting. “You are not doing what I have suggested you do, are you?” she asked looking down at me. ” I’m trying” is all I squeaked out. “Well let us try once more, shall we? ” she said while taking my hand. “One, two, three, breathe….” She repeated as we started down the track once more. Ever since that moment, Elliot’s running had gotten better and eventually he began to enjoy the process since he was no longer struggling over each and ever step. And with the career he would choose later on in his life, it would be required of him to be at his physical best at all times, who knew that one little lesson would have an impact farther down in his life.
This was his first run, since his move to Washington, and he was taking in the view (what could be seen in the morning light at least.) Like how the light from the tall lampposts broke through the morning mist, casting a glow on the cement sidewalks, and how the rows of evergreens swayed gracefully in the morning breeze.
As he neared his home, a tall and rectangular brick building, he ended his morning run and on his way to the front steps stopped down to pick up the morning paper lying in the wet grass. He emerged with his blonde hair combed to the side and in a slick black suit forty-five minutes later, carrying a set of keys for his 1968 Ford Mustang in his hands.
Entering the large white building that literally held his country in its hands, he straightened the tiny flag pin above his chest and headed to his first meeting of the day. The smell of coffee hit him as he entered the room and in seeing the head of security walking up to the front, he headed quickly towards his seat. After their briefing, they each went to their assigned stations and he, of course, went straight towards the East Wing.
Elliot was asked some time ago if he would accompany Governor Kasich in his transition to the white house, to serve in his secret services, Elliot was taken back. This was a not only a chance of a lifetime but he would gladly serve under Kasich, a man who had proven to speak his mind in times of difficulties and had been a strong and loyal leader. He had always looked up to him, so he agreed to take the job, however, as always the transition was harder than he had expected.
His life was simple yet direct and rewarding, he had joined the military straight out of high school, serving for four years and then went on to join the FBI for six years. Elliot believed strongly in using one’s life to the fullest and having a life full of meaning, he chose to use his life in service to his country; however, even though Elliot chose a life most would deem uncomfortable and hard the most difficult for him was the transition. He had always dreaded the word “new,” that meant he would have to leave his comfort zone, ironic since he signed up for the military but nevertheless, after the initial confrontation, the journey, to him, was rewarding.
The bulge of yellow in the sky was nearing its end as the busy footsteps grew heavier around him and the last words of the day were being spoken to the press.
Whatever the day brought, Elliot always ended it back in his garage with sweat, rust, and a whole lot of metal. I smile crept across his face as he thought back to the first car he had worked on, it had been with his father…. if only his father could see him now, years later still messing with metal.
Moses the Mole
Ryan the Rhino
Spencer the Spider
Penny the Penguin
Tragedy: Main characters poor decisions or actions bring about his downfall.
Rebirth: The imprisoned state to liberation.
My name is Moses, professor of all things unnatural, and these are my eager applicants: Ryan, Spencer, and Penny. Penny was a control freak of a girl, she saw things either her way or no way. Spencer felt too much, always worried about everyone else and their problems but she never dealt with her own. Ryan was a tough linebacker, he would get brutally beaten up before he let anyone he cared about get hurt.
Professor Moses meant to give these three students the chance of a lifetime, to let go of all control, let emotions flow, and to let others take the blow from time to time. He believed that giving them a chance to see things from the other side would release them from whatever was keeping them captive.
We woke up drowsy, heads feeling like it had gotten smacked by a brick, and oh god what was wrong with our arms, they felt like they were on fire. We attempted to stand only to be pulled back down to the chair in pain, looking down we saw that our wrists had been strapped down and so were our ankles. How did we get here? We couldn’t remember anything, a matter of fact, we couldn’t even remember our own names! We whipped our heads side to side seeing that there were two others also strapped down, all slowly waking up, our panic now was in full stride.
He had wanted to warn them what was about to happen, he couldn’t have them waking up in a strange place, in a different body, feeling things that they were not accustomed to.
He walked in on the three slowly waking up and well, frankly, freaking out.
He had told us we would be in a different place, a bright and colorful place, and that we would feel at lost with the things around us; however, we would be forced to use the things we hid deep down in ourselves in order to break free.
We woke up feeling like we had been squished, stomped and shoved around. Penny looked around at her surroundings, the entire time feeling as though she wasn’t just looking quite at something but through, what she saw were tall primary color trees and a large gray dull fence surrounding her. When she looked down she saw huge slabs of concrete and a large old wicker chair in the distance, come to think of it everything seemed abnormally large to her.
Spencer and Ryan woke up with very similar feelings as Penny, sore and in wonder about their surroundings; however, Spencer felt harder almost like her body had a shell on it and Ryan felt short and pointy.
What had happened was beyond their comprehension, they had been turned into animal versions of themselves and had been thrown into a nonexistent reality, to better themselves in the end. Moses had chosen to go under with them also, in order to monitor their every move and help the process of a life changing experiment along.
Here we are, Moses said looking at the Penny now a penguin, Spencer now a spider, and Ryan now a small rhino. “Now how bad do you folks wanna get out of here?” he asked. “Bad!” They all said in unison, wanting to be rid of their animal bodies faster than light. “So here is what we have to do,” said Moses.
Penny the penguin had to watch from her jar not being able to control a thing, Spencer the spider had to stop and think about herself and how she was going to get off the table, and Ryan the rhino had to learn to sit back and let others figure it out instead of always getting hurt. Even though their task was small, the effect would be great.
They each awoke feeling free, and like they had broken major barriers in their lives; however, Moses on the other hand, awoke in handcuffs, he had held three kids captive and strapped to chairs.
Professor Moses may have had good intentions, truly, but the actions he took to provoke those intentions were done wrongly. He spent the remainder of his life in a prison cell, but Moses was content because he saw his life’s work come alive, and he knew that he had forever changed those three very special individuals.
It was cold and dark as the clouds threatened thunder and lightning and the rain raged on. The curved top stones glistened in the rain, as the bright green grass danced in the wind. The tree’s branches were swaying, complementing the grass as their trunks stood tall.
His pudgy stomach bulged in his form-fitting tuxedo, and covering those bright green eyes, moist with tears, were his shaggy locks. The scene was sad really, watching him as he stumbled out of the black SUV while hanging onto his mother’s hand. They began walking towards all the people, hovered around a big hole in the ground, his hand tightened around his mothers.
He looked up, seeing all the irritating people around him, in their tall dark outfits, crying and wanting to hold on to someone. Everett was not your average toddler, he did not laugh when someone picked him up to throw him in the air, and he did not smile when someone kneeled down to play with him. He simply disliked people.
One by one people walked up, each stooping down to pick up a handful of dirt and then standing back up again, just to release the dirt on top of the grave, that was being hidden in the large hole in the ground.
He fumbled backward as the crowd around him, all dressed in black and wearing the same expression of sorrow, started moving towards the front. Losing sight of his mother he began to panic, cemeteries were freighting to him and he did not wish to be lost in one with people he did not know. He began roaming around the crowd, that had now gathered in a circle around the grave, making it impossible for a small boy to see through; however, he thought if he couldn’t find his mom maybe he could find his daddy.
He was scared, yes, but he wanted to find his daddy. Daddy had always told him to be brave, so he shoved his clammy hands into his pockets and told himself to be brave, as he walked away from the crowd and deeper into the cemetery.
He had been walking for some time when he heard a rustling sound, stopping in his tracks he looked around frantically trying to find the source of the sound. Suddenly a squirrel ran past his feet, he squealed while he fell to the ground in fright. He told himself to get back up and that daddy was close, he could feel it.
“There, I found you, daddy,” he said while staring at the stone.”Oh, why did you have to leave us? Why did the bad cemetery take you away and never give you back?” He sank to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and curled up next to the stone bearing his father’s name. He whimpered, as he slowly rocked himself back and forth.
Sitting in the trees was the squirrel, watching as the young boy slowly cried himself to sleep, the rain mixing with his tears.
He hates the graves, for the graves have taken someone he loves. He fears the cemetery, for the cemetery hides all the graves holding those daddies and mommy’s from the children like him.
Sirens sounded in the distance, red lights flashing blinding my eyes.
It was a mistake they said, she was just stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time.
No matter how many times I have stood here, waiting for a life that is at the edge of death, it has always been the same. It is a life and will be treated as the most important life in this moment.
They said I shouldn’t be here, she has the same blood as me, I ran towards the lights anyways. She is here, her pitch black hair, pale skin, and crimson blood.
Standing, not understanding. What had happened, what is happening, is still taking its time to register. One second I was in a good place, next I am stuck in chaos… I should have seen it coming; No, I should not have seen it coming, one does not understand the process of comfort to full on fear, it just happens.
Slowly, very slowly you become engrossed. It is a rapid, pulling and pulling at you to come out its way. You have come this far, why not a little bit farther. Why not just give in and let go.
This couldn’t be her, all the bruises and wounds. I moved into action, all I could think about is her blood that is slowly fading, my blood slowly fading.
I couldn’t stand it any longer, my hopeless body was pinned up against the wall, piercing my chest… piercing my soul. I heard a cry, my eyes slowly lifted, not knowing whether or not my ears were playing tricks on me. I saw a light pushing away the crumbled disaster that had been holding on to me, keeping me in place.
I wrapped my arms around my body shaking, my body slowly sliding down, it was done. It was a miracle, she should have never been able to hang on this long with all the internal and external injuries, but she did.
My heart has been removed, and another has taken its place.
Her heart has been removed, and my heart has been spared of loss.
Our life is short.
A day goes by, a week, and then a month. It appears that time is flying past us with no intention of stopping, we ask for it to stop and wait for us to catch up but it does not listen.
Time feels like molasses.
Oh, yes. Time feels slow and sticky, we can’t get out of it without getting uncomfortable and moving around. When one is stuck in their comfort zone everything seems fine and that is the problem. Life is fine and it just goes by, one day at a time. The same old same old, not challenging or uncomfortable just a big old “fine” or “blah.”
Challenge: Live life adventurously and passionately.
Break the habit.
Stop wishing you did it and just do it! Stop complaining about your health, school, work, etc… and start making major changes towards bettering yourself.
We the people are afraid of change and like our comfort zones, but do not be afraid. The dreams you have for your life are your hopes and passions, giving you a glimpse of what your life could look like if you followed them. To quote every Disney princess out there “Follow Your Heart.” I believe God gives each and every individual a passion, a thing they are good at, do not lock up those passions and settle for less. Be the force you want to see in the world; and as my brother, Johnny would say “possibilities are endless” so go out and take them!
Make good habits and throw out the bad ones, one step at a time. Life will not change overnight, but in time you will start seeing the works of your labor. Wait and watch as your life becomes a beautiful journey better than you had ever imagined.
They say it takes twenty-one days to make or break a habit. Twenty-one days, that is nine days short of a month. A little under a month and your life could be changed forever, whether or not you choose a good habit or a bad one, it will hold an impact in the rest of your life.
Choose wisely. Do not waste your time.
I am not a robot.
I am not a drone following orders from a computer; however, I am a very intricate mortal being following the orders of the crowd. The crowd says I follow. Barely do I ever resist?
I am not identical to my comrades, but I wear the same clothing and sound the same when I am with them. The thought of being something different scars me.
I have feelings and emotions, I am not cold; however, I support Plan Parent Hood. I support the killing of fetuses because it makes my life easier and erases MY wrong doings.
I do not conflict pain because I am ordered to, I mock with my camera at hand, doing so much more harm than good. Exposing every flaw in this delicate world, I am.
Oh, are we all not robots. Is this world cold and metal already?
Be something different, do not just follow the crowd aimlessly.
Wear the clothing that best describes you, and does not feel the need to talk or think the same way others do.
Tap into those emotions you hide so deep because we all truly know right from wrong. If you continue thinking the way you do, then right and wrong will become a blurry image you may never make out again.
Be selfless and kind to others, exposing others flaws and insecurities only deepens the pain. Lend a helping hand, stand up for what is right and never forget you were created and are loved by the Most High King.
Do not be a ROBOT be a REBEL, be DIFFERENT.
Our world is in great need of rebels these days and if being a rebel now means fighting for things that are good and true then sign me up.
Last book, last page, last words.
When one finishes a series we tend to ask “what’s next?” We are not ready for this to be the end, we have been thrust on this journey with characters we have fallen in love with over a period of time only to have them ripped away! For example, I have a great obsession for YA series, and I tend to buy the newest YA book on the shelf even if I’ve never read it before! I had an impulse buy quite some time ago, made me buy the first book of a series titled The Maze Runner. This series became one of my all time favorites and will go down as my top 10 reads. This series had a very unique ending, you were crushed by the characters who died in the last chapters, the ones you had become so attached to, and you were happy for the ones that made it out alive; however, it did not resolve the ever-growing question, will they ever find a cure for this disease? This disease had cost each and every one of these characters pain in some terrible way, but the author ended the book with no solution to his characters pain. This ending made me want more when I heard the author was coming out with a prequel to this series, I bought the book as soon as it came out and was hoping it would give me some closure on the ending.
I recently just finished that book, The Fever Code, one of five books in the Maze Runner series, this book was published after the series came out but was still very influential part of it. The Fever code is seen through the eyes of the main character Thomas, giving the back story on his journey to WICKED and the story of how he ended in THE MAZE. I am not one to read the prequels of books unless it is something I deeply enjoy and just can’t get enough of. Even though the book was quite good I still wish they would continue on with the series and answer all those unanswered questions boiling up in all the maze runner fans out there.
I got one tip for all you authors out there, once you start a series don’t stop.