How I Got My Superpowers

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I have a bit of explaining to do. Not just to my nonexistent readers, but probably to Daniel and Kaya and some of my friends as well.

As some of you have probably noted from some of my posts, I have become sort of immortal and sort of prone to setting things on fire. In my Delirium of course. It would be awesome to do that stuff in Reality, but unfortunately, that can’t happen. Dang.

Now I know the Daily Prompt Challenge is meant to be about how I became a writer. And I’ll do that. Tomorrow. I promise. But I got inspired by the superhero origin story stuff, and I really wanted to write a post about my own weird…hand…thingymaginky. Plus the immortality. But I prefer the flamethrowing stuff.

I think it probably started when I was discovering Kaya’s nasty habit of taking over whenever I went into Delirium. We were at the beach, and I fell into Delirium.

I remember vaguely what happened. Mainly, I remember Kaya screaming. I couldn’t see her, I don’t think anyone would be able to see her again. But she was screaming. The monsters had her surrounded. She was in pain.

Yeah…I’m not entirely sure why I did what I did. I have debates whether or not I regret it. But I had charged at them. I gave Kaya enough time to get back to Reality.

Then they cornered me.

I wonder if they had killed me, would I still be in Delirium? I’m uncertain. Before, I had always been afraid of dying. Originally, when my Delirium had been starting out, I didn’t have visions from my own point of view. I saw it from Kaya, Nereida, lots of people. Most of them died, with me feeling and seeing everything.

Then, somehow, I ended up there. With my own body. And now part of me is stuck there.

The prison they locked me in is one of the most terrifying places on Earth. I wasn’t sure who to fear more; the guards with swollen heads who liked to watch as their prisoners scream, or the captives, who would stare at me with a detached creepy expression on their face as they laughed at nothing and would scream out randomly.

I found out a couple of things. They wouldn’t kill me. I think at the time I was relieved to hear that. But they weren’t going to let me go. Let me explain to you what kind of ones these monsters are. In order to know what they know, they have suffered massive deformities in their bodies. Their eyes seem to bulge out of their giant heads, and a few of them are missing their senses in order to enhance others.

These people, with their impossible intelligence, they want to develop, they want to create new things. It had started with themselves, but then they found a better solution. Prisoners. Anyone guilty of a major crime would be ‘donated’ and they would come here. After that, what happened to them would be a secret to all except their torturers.

That was how things were before Kaya. Kaya and her refusal to stay dead. Kaya and her stubborn determination. Kaya and her bright purple eyes and shock of white hair…

When Kaya did what she did, she showed people what really happened. And now they’re thinking. Thinking is dangerous, you see. Before, people thought this was a good idea. But they didn’t really know. And now they do.

Either way, the monsters never cared about what others thought. They went about as they always did, doing as they wished. And I would be their next victim.

Apparently Kaya was trying to get me out. Negotiate a deal. I didn’t know who at the time, but I’m guessing now it was the fat man, aka. Thommand. Either way, she didn’t go through with it. Why, she won’t tell me.

Later on, I think I described what I had done as a deal with the devil. It probably was, when you consider it. But it was the only thing I could do. I wanted to get out before I was reduced to the screaming wrecks which inhabited the prison.

So I made an agreement. With the monsters. I would be allowed out of that place, and in could live with Daniel and be free in my own Delirium.

In exchange, I would have to return occasionally. Every while and then for a check up.

And they would stick a needle in my arm that would make my blood burn.

I couldn’t speak to Daniel after. They let me out, and he found me wandering the outside world. I went back to Reality not long after in a similar predicament. I spent an hour searching, until I found Papa Willis and pretty much sprinted into him. I was so happy I was alive, but at the same time, I felt as guilty as hell.

I would still consider it a prison. Delirium itself is a prison. I can’t escape it, and I can’t avoid it. But I’m glad that I’m not staying in that hellhole of a cell forever.

Sometimes the monsters have other ideas. They go back on their agreement and chain me up when I try to leave. I never let Daniel come with me to these…checkups, because they would chain him too. Instead, he comes to break me out whenever I need help.

Not that I always need that help.

I think the first time I had found out about my hands would’ve been that time I had named The Rage of a Cat. When I consider it, I think that that was probably the aim of their injections. The immortality was just sort of a side effect. And when they found out about said immortality, they took it more as a challenge. They tried to kill me in as many ways possible.

The very first time I had died, I was stabbed.

I think the second time was when my guts were torn out. But there might have been another before that. Most of it’s a blur.

Later, they tried to kill me by hitting me over the head. That time was different. I managed to get revenge, or at least some animalistic satisfaction from murdering the man they same way he murdered me.

That’s another thing I’ve noticed. I’ve become…stronger. I can fight back for once. I feel like I am intimidating enough to have control of myself now.

But…I also feel worse about myself. That time I got revenge wasn’t the only death I have caused. The bad thing is that I’ve forgotten how many I’ve killed. And who. I never knew who I had killed. And reading back my words, I sound like an utter monster.

I suppose I’m frightened of what I’m becoming. Being in Delirium is slowly taking away my humanity, bit by bit. And because of that, I’m scared of myself in Reality as well. Because I know I’m capable of doing the same thing there.

But when you think about it, I’m not entirely a monster. If I were, Daniel would’ve abandoned me by now. But he hasn’t. He still cares about me even if I’m a murderer and psycho. So there has to be some bit of good in me somewhere.

I’m not a superhero. I’m too fucked up for that. But I’m not the bad guy either. I’m just a freak. And that’s fine with me.

Watch Me Write!

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Hello non existent readers! Guess who’s iPad has regained access to the Internet?

MWAHAHAHA, nothing can stop me now! >:)

So I had made a promise to post the prologue of my story thingymajinky, so I’m going to that today. I’ve been making a lot of notes, because I’m making my own world, and I’m designing everything.

As if I didn’t already have enough worlds….

At the moment, I’ve just been sketching the places and people, and hopefully I’ll be able to post them on here soon. I’ve also had a lot of fun designing the clothes that they would wear, and since I’m doing Materials Design next year, I might be even able to make them.

Yeah right! :p But it would be a fun challenge.

Anyway, here’s the prologue, I’ll see you at the end.

How many stories had she heard as a girl, warning her of the dangers of the forest at night? How many tales of children being eaten and maidens getting murdered had she listened to? Far too many, she had to admit. She enjoyed frightening stories, because they were the ones that made the other girls scream.
As a branch scratched her arm with a sharp finger, she wondered if the inventors of those stories had been in the same woods as she. It was identical to the pictures painted in books; ink black night only illuminated by the moon, monstrous trees which would eat you if you fell asleep under them, and the menacing silence which threatened to drive you to madness.
It would appear that the silence had come too late then.
She stumbled, and the forest ground tore her knee again. Cuts and bruises are the least of my worries, she thought. I’ll endure a million. A billion, before I die by that hand.
The now familiar pains flooded her head again, and she couldn’t move another step. She crumpled to the forest ground, tears streaming down her face. End this, she pleaded the creatures that weren’t there. Please!
As the outlines of the trees became blurred, she felt a sense of dread wash over her as she realised her hunger was returning. A hunger for the drink of life. A hunger for scarlet.

She laced it tighter, trying to squeeze all the air out of herself, so the pain would leave.
Cloth of violet blue, embroidered with pearls which gleamed in the light. But as beautiful as the gown was, she could take no joy in it. That monster’s eyes were violet, the one that nearly killed her. And it was still out there. Waiting.
She tread toward the window, slowly, in case a nightmare jumped out in front of her. None came, but as she looked out onto the village, there they were. Monsters, everywhere.
Another would die today. That was what she had been told before rest the night before. Once, she had learnt about all the lives of the monsters, so some part of them remained in this world once they left it. She’d spent too many hours dwelling over the lives of a young mother, a knight of her own guard, even a lady of the court had turned.
It didn’t matter now though, who these people were, how they lived their short, miserable lives. Their faces all blended together, they were all twisted and mutated and monstrous. It didn’t matter who they were, because when they were lead out to die, the only face she was capable of seeing was his.
The roar of pain from the father…the hysterical sobbing from the sister… The death had brought chaos and destruction to the land. But the fire would burn it all away.
With that, she tore off the evil gown, with the horrible violet eyes, and threw it upon the roaring fire. It caught alight quickly, and blue became black, and the bright flames feasted on the dress before her eyes.
What did he think, she thought, when the stake was driven into his chest? Did he live long enough to feel the flames burning at him? That was her greatest torment. She swore, she would watch a million monsters die to know what was running through his mind.

A bottle of wyne lay beside him, rolling across the cabin floor. It tasted more of piss than wyne, if he were honest, but he’d take it.
His head knocked against the wall again. Excellent, he thought. He could use a couple of hours in a drunken slumber. Thinking was bad. Thinking lead to horrible things, he’d seen that much.
He’d lost everything. He’d lost his children, his wife, and his pride had deserted him the minute he ended up on this boat to the middle of nowhere.
His head blurred, and he felt the warm, comfortable sense of unconsciousness drown him.
A minute after sleep found him, he was shaken awake. “Fuck off,” he growled.
“The lords want t’see yer,” a voice stinking of ash told him. “Good news, they said.”
Fuck… He stumbled up, and staggered out the door. What had happened the last time he heard the words ‘good news”? He chuckled to himself without humour. He’d see what they wanted now. The quicker it was over with, the faster he could get back to his drunken stupor.
“Morning to you too,” they remarked when they saw him. Their matching blue eyes weren’t angry or mocking, though they should be. They were pitying. For some reason, that was felt even worse.
One of them grabbed his legs, and lifted them over his shoulders. He swore loudly, and hit at the other, as they lifted up the other half of his body. “It is time,” the lord said, ignoring his shouts and curses, “for you to either sink or swim.”
With one swing, he was thrown into the air, and he fell down towards the water.

He should’ve been used to corpses by now, but, like the idiot he was, he still felt a chill go down his spine when he saw them.
Why did he put his life in the hands of this stranger, who, quite frankly, was far more worrying than the prison. It wasn’t just the fact that the majority of the guards were dead, most likely by this one’s hand. He was quite certain that this…this…
“Excuse me, but are you a man or a woman?” he asked the stranger.
A low chuckle came from them. He couldn’t hear any note that distinguished them as either sex. Maybe they didn’t have one, perhaps he should refer to them as it.
It would be suicide to leave through the front gates of the prison, so the stranger lead the way to the sewers. Upon reaching the drainage, they raised a gloved hand, indicating for him to go down first. Warily, he obliged, and slid down the pipe.
He was surprised to see a torch in these sewers. Who could’ve left that here? There was still a little flame coming from it, giving him enough light to see around him. There was even more blood in the sewers than in the actual prison, he noted. The filthy water he was standing in reached his knees, there was a red tinge to it. He hated to think how many other corpses were there.
With another splash, he heard the stranger join him. He turned around. Had no one left that torch, he would be blind, but now he could see it’s true form.
“Should’ve guessed,” he said aloud.
The stranger grinned in the dark, and raised a finger to their lips. “Shhhh.”
Was it threat or warning? He didn’t know. He was an idiot, and idiots knew nothing. Except to follow. He had enough sense to know that he could either die here, in bloody waters, or follow this stranger, who had killed those guarding him, and may well kill him too,
Sheep to shepherd, he followed the shadow into the darkness.

Please let me know how this is in the comments, I’m trying to write more creatively, and if it’s good, I’ll probably post more of it. But in this stage it’s a work in progress.

Mad Cat xox