- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Multiple posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Sci-fi, modern, horror, a bit of dark romance stories.
I've had an odd life.
How I was raised and how I came to be who I am is always an anachronism. I don't know much about my real parents, but I know my mother was a farmer's daughter, while my father was involved in the army. His role was important, he wasn't just a simple soldier, I believe he commanded some of his own men, but his rank I never figured out. My real birthplace is also a mystery, I know it was old. Around medieval times, it had magic and creatures, with wizards and massive empires, but the name has been long forgotten, even by my father. Well, 'father,' in quotations.
I was adopted. I was barely six months old when my parents died, a great forest fire burned across the region my parents lived in, and they were victims of it, but that's the story my adopted father always told me. I think the truth is more he murdered them. His boss is a massive collector, she has a fondness for observing and analyzing things, from people to cultures, religion to history, art to engineering, whatever the world offers she wants to see it. She's a believer in preservation of these things, as everything is important in her eyes. Nothing should be forgotten by time. So much is too unique to let time decay it to nothing. Sometimes it means she has to collect these things herself, and usually she has her soldiers do it for her.
I don't want to say she kidnaps people to store them away for her own goals, but I'm not oblivious enough to ignore that part of her. I was gonna be just that though, stored away for a computer to take down my information, like sex, race, blood type, then never see a real person again until maybe hundreds of years have past. But, my adopted dad found me in my crib when my parents died, and instead of taking me away to her boss, he wanted to keep me for himself. He asked his boss, and she let him raise me. Now, I realize how this all sounds, a man who might have murdered my parents raising their child, abuse was surely thrown my way, right?
Not really. Those early years of being a toddler and child with it, they're my fondest memories to date. My dad was good to me, if not the best father anyone could ask for. He was helpful in teaching me life skills I would need when I was older, such as how to take care of myself and how to work hard, but he also taught me skills I would never have learned from my actual father. When I was six, my dad started teaching me hand to hand combat. Stuff like mixed martial-arts, karate, taekwondo, even Muay Thai. He taught me how to use weapons, from swords to guns, as well psychology and strategy. I can remember there would be weeks where we would play nothing but chess until I beat him in a game, which I found to be unfair because he was a machine programmed to outsmart normal organisms, while I was a child that barely understood the rules of the different pieces.
Those sessions usually ended with me throwing pieces at his head. But even with that, my dad never really raised his voice. He'd always have a smile on his face no matter what, and he'd always take time to talk with me about anything I had in mind. He had a patience, and yes, he was a machine as previously stated, but he wasn't a robot. He was more than that for me. He was just...... Safe to be around. Even that's ironic if you knew who he was during his job. After around three years, he adopted another child. Since work was becoming more busy for him, he wanted me to have someone around to have interactions with so I wasn't by myself, while cameras watched me in case I choked on a lego piece. My brother was called Divian, and he certainly was different from me.
For one, he was a Ghoul. Not one of those zombies from that post-apocalyptic world, I mean the flesh eating cannibal kind that can make large limbs come out their bodies, usually very bug like in shape, but black or dark purple in color. He certainly wasn't as enthusiastic about living there like I was, and I can remember at the time thinking why he seemed so miserable. I never did figure out where Divian came from, I know his original place of birth was Romania of all places, but his parents I was never told about. I don't think Divian was ever told that either. I think their fate was the same as my real parents. But, when Divian and I first met, it was strange since we both weren't exactly around other fleshly people. The only interactions we had were our dad, uncles, aunt, and grandmother, but with him gone, we only had each other. I can remember days where I would play with my toys, while Divian sat in the corning, mumbling to himself and sulking in his own pity. He didn't like being here, he didn't like me, and he didn't like our dad.
He was a prick, but I knew dad would want us to talk. I offered him some toys to play with one day, and at first he didn't accept, like he was paranoid I was giving him poisoned toys that would kill him if he touched them, but eventually he took up the offer, and we started playing together. We were good together, nothing special, but we weren't getting into fights or trying to hurt each other, even if he was a creature who could only eat human flesh. My dad gave him medication that would subvert those cravings, and I think he was trying to figure out a way for Divian to eat normal food, but whether he couldn't or didn't care, I remember lot's of times where Divian was 'off.'
The medication made him feel very wozey and light-headed, but they took an edge off his angrier side. As we got older together, we'd start exploring the station our dad put us on, seeing how far into the base we could go before the cameras would try to stop us. We got farther than I thought we could, we were making a map of everything we could explore together. Course there were times I'd tease him, we'd fight each other, most of the time Divian nearly tried stabbing me with his bug parts, but thankfully Divian was smart enough to realize killing me would end badly for him. But whenever I had the chance, I called 'mut-ant' for fun, because he got bugged every time I'd say he was part ant instead of spider. It was harmless stuff, nothing worse than what our dad did to him.
Whenever we were sent off for training, I'd work primarily with my dad, following him on his missions to see what he did. He believed in first-hand experience, though where his boss allowed it, I have no idea. But when I would come back, Divian would be their an hour after I arrived. He would usually look pale and horrified, like he witnessed a murder. I found out years later that our dad ran different kinds of training on him. Testing the limits of his body and abilities with vigorous experiments, as well painful sessions of full on torture to break Divian mentally, even if he was a child.
That was the official statement given to his boss. Reality was, our dad was curious about something else. He was teaching Divian differently from me. While I got most of the attention and love, Divian would receive the harshest punishments. Dad wanted us to have a sibling rivalry, one with either me or him trying to kill each other. I played into his hands during that time, since I was the one who got Divian in the most trouble. If we did something on the station we weren't supposed to, I pointed the finger at Divian to avoid any fault, and while Divian tried to defend himself verbally, our dad wouldn't hear it. I doubt he was naive enough to see me as innocent in all of them, if any of them. The biggest one Divian ever got in trouble for was when we stole one of the teleporters he used to travel between universes.
Our dad had the newest prototype version. It was like Curta Calculator, it had around nine digits for numbers, and all you needed to do was spin the top around for a portal to open. I managed to take it from him when he wasn't watching me, and when I returned to Divian, we took it for a ride. We visited around three universes, and each one was more dangerous than the other. We visited a normal world, something akin to a modern day earth, then a fantasy world, then finally a cyber-punk one. To go into detail of everything that happened would take some time, but the most noteworthy thing was Divian murdering a cop who was chasing after us, after I had stolen some stuff from a grocery store. It was some food I'd never tried before, but we didn't have money, so I snuck it under my jacket. Was caught the moment I stepped out the door, but Divian came in, unleashed his powers, and before you knew it, he was eating two corpses in the main entrance.
When we got back, Divian was drenched in blood, and our dad was waiting. Divian was going to be punished for this. But yet, he finally found some sense of confidence and anger in himself to do the one thing neither me or my dad thought he'd do. Actually fight our dad. He'd always been scared of him, but from those killings he did, somehow he decided 'fuck it, I'm killing this guy.' Almost won in fact, if not for the fact that guards got involved and tried to kill him. He stole the prototype and ran off, and I was left confused as to what would happen next. My dad's boss was sure to find out soon what happened, and I couldn't stay any longer. At age 8, he had to let me go.
It was the saddest day of my life. Probably the first time I ever openly weeped. I was to be put in a orphanage for adoption on a normal earth, with no means of contacting my father, and everything I had witnessed in my childhood I was to forget ever happened. A simple fantasy of a boy without his parents anymore. It was hard to accept. I felt like Divian when I first arrived.
But, I was given some hope from my dad. During our time together, my dad always told me one thing: "Power is a key to happiness." The things he taught me weren't just because he wanted to, but because he knew I was special for something. My purpose in life was a mystery, as I never really knew what I wanted to do when I got older, as I had always been around my father. But the one thing I always found joy in was control. Admiration brought on by people's affection for me. As I grew older, I found a better appreciation for this feeling I had for it.
It wasn't so much I craved to be the center of attention. It was more playing the role of some sort of God I liked. The admiration from people who believed me to be their savior, who believed that without me, their world would crumble, grew as the years went passed. Playing God gave me too much fun.
End Part 1.
How I was raised and how I came to be who I am is always an anachronism. I don't know much about my real parents, but I know my mother was a farmer's daughter, while my father was involved in the army. His role was important, he wasn't just a simple soldier, I believe he commanded some of his own men, but his rank I never figured out. My real birthplace is also a mystery, I know it was old. Around medieval times, it had magic and creatures, with wizards and massive empires, but the name has been long forgotten, even by my father. Well, 'father,' in quotations.
I was adopted. I was barely six months old when my parents died, a great forest fire burned across the region my parents lived in, and they were victims of it, but that's the story my adopted father always told me. I think the truth is more he murdered them. His boss is a massive collector, she has a fondness for observing and analyzing things, from people to cultures, religion to history, art to engineering, whatever the world offers she wants to see it. She's a believer in preservation of these things, as everything is important in her eyes. Nothing should be forgotten by time. So much is too unique to let time decay it to nothing. Sometimes it means she has to collect these things herself, and usually she has her soldiers do it for her.
I don't want to say she kidnaps people to store them away for her own goals, but I'm not oblivious enough to ignore that part of her. I was gonna be just that though, stored away for a computer to take down my information, like sex, race, blood type, then never see a real person again until maybe hundreds of years have past. But, my adopted dad found me in my crib when my parents died, and instead of taking me away to her boss, he wanted to keep me for himself. He asked his boss, and she let him raise me. Now, I realize how this all sounds, a man who might have murdered my parents raising their child, abuse was surely thrown my way, right?
Not really. Those early years of being a toddler and child with it, they're my fondest memories to date. My dad was good to me, if not the best father anyone could ask for. He was helpful in teaching me life skills I would need when I was older, such as how to take care of myself and how to work hard, but he also taught me skills I would never have learned from my actual father. When I was six, my dad started teaching me hand to hand combat. Stuff like mixed martial-arts, karate, taekwondo, even Muay Thai. He taught me how to use weapons, from swords to guns, as well psychology and strategy. I can remember there would be weeks where we would play nothing but chess until I beat him in a game, which I found to be unfair because he was a machine programmed to outsmart normal organisms, while I was a child that barely understood the rules of the different pieces.
Those sessions usually ended with me throwing pieces at his head. But even with that, my dad never really raised his voice. He'd always have a smile on his face no matter what, and he'd always take time to talk with me about anything I had in mind. He had a patience, and yes, he was a machine as previously stated, but he wasn't a robot. He was more than that for me. He was just...... Safe to be around. Even that's ironic if you knew who he was during his job. After around three years, he adopted another child. Since work was becoming more busy for him, he wanted me to have someone around to have interactions with so I wasn't by myself, while cameras watched me in case I choked on a lego piece. My brother was called Divian, and he certainly was different from me.
For one, he was a Ghoul. Not one of those zombies from that post-apocalyptic world, I mean the flesh eating cannibal kind that can make large limbs come out their bodies, usually very bug like in shape, but black or dark purple in color. He certainly wasn't as enthusiastic about living there like I was, and I can remember at the time thinking why he seemed so miserable. I never did figure out where Divian came from, I know his original place of birth was Romania of all places, but his parents I was never told about. I don't think Divian was ever told that either. I think their fate was the same as my real parents. But, when Divian and I first met, it was strange since we both weren't exactly around other fleshly people. The only interactions we had were our dad, uncles, aunt, and grandmother, but with him gone, we only had each other. I can remember days where I would play with my toys, while Divian sat in the corning, mumbling to himself and sulking in his own pity. He didn't like being here, he didn't like me, and he didn't like our dad.
He was a prick, but I knew dad would want us to talk. I offered him some toys to play with one day, and at first he didn't accept, like he was paranoid I was giving him poisoned toys that would kill him if he touched them, but eventually he took up the offer, and we started playing together. We were good together, nothing special, but we weren't getting into fights or trying to hurt each other, even if he was a creature who could only eat human flesh. My dad gave him medication that would subvert those cravings, and I think he was trying to figure out a way for Divian to eat normal food, but whether he couldn't or didn't care, I remember lot's of times where Divian was 'off.'
The medication made him feel very wozey and light-headed, but they took an edge off his angrier side. As we got older together, we'd start exploring the station our dad put us on, seeing how far into the base we could go before the cameras would try to stop us. We got farther than I thought we could, we were making a map of everything we could explore together. Course there were times I'd tease him, we'd fight each other, most of the time Divian nearly tried stabbing me with his bug parts, but thankfully Divian was smart enough to realize killing me would end badly for him. But whenever I had the chance, I called 'mut-ant' for fun, because he got bugged every time I'd say he was part ant instead of spider. It was harmless stuff, nothing worse than what our dad did to him.
Whenever we were sent off for training, I'd work primarily with my dad, following him on his missions to see what he did. He believed in first-hand experience, though where his boss allowed it, I have no idea. But when I would come back, Divian would be their an hour after I arrived. He would usually look pale and horrified, like he witnessed a murder. I found out years later that our dad ran different kinds of training on him. Testing the limits of his body and abilities with vigorous experiments, as well painful sessions of full on torture to break Divian mentally, even if he was a child.
That was the official statement given to his boss. Reality was, our dad was curious about something else. He was teaching Divian differently from me. While I got most of the attention and love, Divian would receive the harshest punishments. Dad wanted us to have a sibling rivalry, one with either me or him trying to kill each other. I played into his hands during that time, since I was the one who got Divian in the most trouble. If we did something on the station we weren't supposed to, I pointed the finger at Divian to avoid any fault, and while Divian tried to defend himself verbally, our dad wouldn't hear it. I doubt he was naive enough to see me as innocent in all of them, if any of them. The biggest one Divian ever got in trouble for was when we stole one of the teleporters he used to travel between universes.
Our dad had the newest prototype version. It was like Curta Calculator, it had around nine digits for numbers, and all you needed to do was spin the top around for a portal to open. I managed to take it from him when he wasn't watching me, and when I returned to Divian, we took it for a ride. We visited around three universes, and each one was more dangerous than the other. We visited a normal world, something akin to a modern day earth, then a fantasy world, then finally a cyber-punk one. To go into detail of everything that happened would take some time, but the most noteworthy thing was Divian murdering a cop who was chasing after us, after I had stolen some stuff from a grocery store. It was some food I'd never tried before, but we didn't have money, so I snuck it under my jacket. Was caught the moment I stepped out the door, but Divian came in, unleashed his powers, and before you knew it, he was eating two corpses in the main entrance.
When we got back, Divian was drenched in blood, and our dad was waiting. Divian was going to be punished for this. But yet, he finally found some sense of confidence and anger in himself to do the one thing neither me or my dad thought he'd do. Actually fight our dad. He'd always been scared of him, but from those killings he did, somehow he decided 'fuck it, I'm killing this guy.' Almost won in fact, if not for the fact that guards got involved and tried to kill him. He stole the prototype and ran off, and I was left confused as to what would happen next. My dad's boss was sure to find out soon what happened, and I couldn't stay any longer. At age 8, he had to let me go.
It was the saddest day of my life. Probably the first time I ever openly weeped. I was to be put in a orphanage for adoption on a normal earth, with no means of contacting my father, and everything I had witnessed in my childhood I was to forget ever happened. A simple fantasy of a boy without his parents anymore. It was hard to accept. I felt like Divian when I first arrived.
But, I was given some hope from my dad. During our time together, my dad always told me one thing: "Power is a key to happiness." The things he taught me weren't just because he wanted to, but because he knew I was special for something. My purpose in life was a mystery, as I never really knew what I wanted to do when I got older, as I had always been around my father. But the one thing I always found joy in was control. Admiration brought on by people's affection for me. As I grew older, I found a better appreciation for this feeling I had for it.
It wasn't so much I craved to be the center of attention. It was more playing the role of some sort of God I liked. The admiration from people who believed me to be their savior, who believed that without me, their world would crumble, grew as the years went passed. Playing God gave me too much fun.
End Part 1.