Weekly Writing Contest

Immortal Contest

Dec 2-7, 2019

Results

  • 1.

    AR Duchene (3pts)

  • 2.

    Cody Lancaster (3pt)

  • 3.

    Ahila Wilson (1pt)

Read The Story
ENJOY THE PROGRESS

A muffled scream filled the silence, the kind of scream that indicated that someone was being eaten alive. As Nero sat on a wooden chair in the Remembering Room, he listened to the rebirthing process happening down the hall. The Rebirth was always the same, and so was the Remembering.

He looked down at the self-addressed letter containing the key to all his memories. The words were faded and the edges were crinkled which seemed out of place against the white walls and smells of sanitation.

Dear Nero,

If you’re reading this, then the Rebirth went successfully and you managed to devour your copy. The Remembering should come back in crisp clear detail. All of it.

The pain came with the first memory, the pain that comes with Rebirth, first emotional and then physical as if he had been the copy that had been eaten. He fell off the stool, crushing the letter in his hand. This wasn’t new to him, yet every time the pain was as raw as the first. The Rebirth was required once every century if you wanted to live forever, except for those that triggered it early. Nero swore to himself that he wouldn’t do it again, as he had for the last millennium, yet here he was again, his body writhing on the floor, his mouth agape.

As the pain rescinded, he pushed himself up off the white tile floor and pulled down the bleached cotton sheet he was put in after birth. Sitting back on the chair, he began to read again.

You need to find your pair, you cannot live more than three days without them. They go by the name, Pat, but I’m unsure what form they’ll take in this new cycle.

Memories of the last cycle came back to Nero in pieces, as if the power of the words wouldn’t let them rush back at once. Something was off. The figures in his recollection were blurry and misshapen. He fought to make them clear, rereading the lines of his partner, needing to recall anything that would help him find Pat. But nothing returned.

He held it up to the florescent light hanging above him and beneath the neat scrawl of the letter was something blurred as if it had been erased. Three words, it seemed, although he couldn’t be sure. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. The first word became clear, then the last, They something illegible Pat. Two long lines took the shape of the letter ‘l’ and that is when the memory rushed back of him writing his own letter. It had been changed! This line should have read: They killed Pat.

The screams in the other room had stopped at this point, but now the silence was now more deafening and unbearable than before. The air seemed to suffocate him more with every breath. The realization of Pat being dead stirred something deep inside Nero that he hadn’t felt for years: fear.

When one becomes immortal, certain feelings tend to fade. Love being one. The first time Nero had fallen in love had been during his first century after the Decision. He had found a beautiful slave girl in Rome and had bought her to help keep his villa tidy. Eventually, he found her valued her company more than her work and freed her from servitude to join him in his house. Pat had made fun of him and told him he was wasting his time, but Nero heard none of it.

It wasn’t until 10 years into their union that this woman started to notice that Nero hadn’t aged a day. That while her hair started gaining slivers of gray, his was as golden as the fields of wheat outside the city. It was then she made the unfortunate decision to know why.

One of the rules of the Decision was only your partner may know the truth. Should others ask though, they must be killed or must make the Decision themselves. “If one may know, the world may know” is what he was told his Decision Day. His love had told him she could never follow him. Unable to do it himself, Nero asked Pat to take care of her.

In the centuries that followed, Nero made the same mistake three more times before he finally learned that love was obsolete in this eternity.

Fear was another feeling that become numb to the immortal. Only those that had made the Decision, undergone Rebirth, and had Remembered knew the vulnerabilities of his kind. Few of them are living, none told. Not only had Pat been killed, but they had been murdered.

The Alien Grows

Sparkle crawls in her soul, not like a crawling baby with a most beautiful enthusiasm, but like a terminally ill with all hopes lost. Oh, that sad reality of many beings, how deceivingly perfect looking, how all put together, how fakingly peaceful, humans walk around at times. Walk with such chaos in their soul, with not so put together interior, every soul fighting their own unique aliens. So, did Sparkle crawled in her soul, all with the fittest body, beautiful family, successful life, indeed with a perfect exterior she walked tall, just outside.

Oh, now she stumbles even in her crawl, this is the feasting table of the alien. She gets a glimpse of his feast. She wants to know, what helps him grow? Oh, what a variety of dishes in that table, how horrible, how disgusting, how so graceless, to feed on someone’s vulnerabilities and grow to hurt them. But the alien sitting tall, unaffected, taking each dish and engulfing them without any second thought. He feeds on her sickness, her tiredness, her hardships, her loneliness, at a time when she is overworked, he feeds on anything that Sparkle can’t handle. He grows magnificently when sparkle faces legitimate difficulties, any little failure, and if she ever must try something new.

But, out of it all, the favorite dish of the alien is “control”. Sparkle wants to do it all, she can’t trust anyone to be responsible. Trusting someone is giving up control, it scares her to give up control. She can’t relax, the worst part of it all is that she complaints, “no one helps”. Control is a common enemy to human spices. A child tries to control parents, parents their children. Wives their husbands, husbands their wives. Mother in laws their daughters-in-law and daughters-in-law their mothers-in-law.

Part of being a human means subjectivity to overwhelming stresses. Stress due to natural causes, stress due to a free will of another, stress due to the choices we made, or dilemma we face. Where does it stop? when we look closer, it is very little we can control. Even in our own lives, there seem only our personal actions we can control, so what we say about our children’s life, our family, the people we dearly love, how much can we control it all. The anxiety alien gloriously feeds on control, and he gets a little more excited when we try specifically to control the uncontrollable. Sparkle speculated, knowing it all well in her mind, yet in her heart how much she longs to control the uncontrollable. She gains little perspectives about what the alien feeds on, but thus far clueless with her strategies to starve him.

She wants to win him, conquer him, complete this battle once and for all. But, how, how! she doesn’t know. As she watched him feed on all her misfortunes, she fell asleep on the couch that she was sitting ……………….

Pat’s death made Nero question his own immortality. Without her, Nero was as good as dead. It seemed unfair to base one’s life on their ability to find a pair, to complete a proper bond, but the Cangar Species of Planet Beta had lived this way since before Nero’s first generation of life, before offspring were banned to help control the population.

“Remembering Complete.” A cheery high-pitched voice sounded overhead interrupting his thoughts. The wall separating Nero from the hallway lowered into the floor. “You may go. Thank you and see you next time.”

Next time. If there would be a next time, Nero thought to himself as he took off the white cloth he had been issued and slipped into the plain brown clothing sitting on the other side of the wall. He needed to find Pat and figure out what happened and why his letter was marred and changed. There had to be a way to undo it. Without his pair, he’d be Unbonded and the Unbonded never survived.

A small tug pulled at Nero’s gut, a distant pulse. He breathed in and out, waiting for it to disappear, but with each step down the hallway Nero grew more certain. Pat. If the bond created by pairing was still present, then there was a chance.

Nero stepped into the outside world, the dark morning greeting him. The heat from the day was stifling and the planet hadn’t yet turned to face the sun. A groggy feeling swept through him, the combination of rebirth and excessive heat. Dragging himself across the gray slated ground to the temperature regulated transportation system, Nero entered the next pod to pass.

There was an older woman sitting across from him. A bitterness swept through him at this woman that was bonded and would likely be undergoing Rebirth again, starting over. A small tug on the bond and Nero’s hands unclenched as the pod sped towards the first place a person would search for their lost pair: The Pool of the Unbonded.

The ride was quick and Nero found himself exiting the pod doors, at a deserted platform. The older woman’s face crinkled and he felt her eyes on him long after the pod drifted out of the station. He crossed the cracked concrete floor and wondered when the last time someone other than the Unbonded, the death sentenced, ever bothered to wander the cursed stop. Nobody ever lived to get on it again.

A cold shiver took over Nero’s body as he imagined his future, followed by a sliver of hope as the faint bond tug was still present.

The heat set in as soon as he exited the climate controlled area. The day was in full swing, the sun high in the sky due, the issues of proximity so close to the sun. The land was sparse, nothing but arid ground and shriveled trees. The sound of screeches filled the air, the only indication of something living. Nero followed their call, until he was staring down into the pool of the Unbonded, and it wasn’t at all what he had expected.

Instagram only winner: AR Duchene

Overall vote winner: Cody Lancaster


There were bodies everywhere. Nero inhaled and held it waiting for the smell to hit him, but it never did. The bodies were strewn about. He walked closer. That was when he noticed the first one’s skin. It appeared warm and soft, unlike the dead he had imagined. He eyed the next one he neared and it too seemed to alive to be dead. He stood at the edge of the liquidless pool, a simple large concrete crevice, looking down at the bodies when a loud screech erupted.

Laughter. Somebody was laughing. The bodies started to moan and laugh as they righted themselves.

Nero jumped as a hand slapped him on the back before settling on his shoulder.

“Ahh, sorry man! We have to do that to all the noobs.”

Nero turned to see a large man staring back at him, his grinning face carrying the new life that all young Rebirthed individuals have. Then without a change of expression, the man pushed Nero backwards with a force that sent him toppling backwards into the pool.

Nero’s eyes shut, waiting to hit the hard concrete floor. His breath caught. Arms caught him, hard, but giving and he found himself being set to his feet as the same smiling man dropped down beside him.

“Sorry, man!” He repeated. “Had to get out of that sun! I’m Gilbrai” Nero looked up as a large shade pulled itself over the pool, enclosing the group.

“What in the heavens?” Nero asked, looking around at all of the people, laughing and giving high-fives while returning to whatever game they were playing before.

“New person’s prank. You’ll get used to it.”

Nero didn’t think he would ever get used to anything, not with only three days to live if he didn’t find Pat. The urgency coursed through him, mixed with confusion at Gilbrai’s statement.

“How long have you been here, when is your time up?” Nero asked him.

Gilbrai’s nose crinkled and he cocked his head to the side. Then, as if realization dawned, he chuckled patting Nero on the shoulder and adding, “Man, do I have some information for you!”

It was quiet on the descent. Lungs burning, fingertips cold, and chest pounding, Nero held onto the last bit of oxygen in his lungs. He thought about how he had lived countless days, yet here he was worrying about living for only three more. Countless lifetimes, countless Rebirths, countless Remembering, all to have it sink to the bottom of an abysmal body of water. He could feel every molecule of oxygen pop in his lung from use. If he hadn’t been submerged, tears would be falling across his cheek bones. But the water hid the emotions he finally no longer felt numb to. He felt his heart struggle to keep his body alive and his partner bond pulling, almost dragging, him to the bottom

Deeper and deeper he fell, when finally it happened: he took a breath. Water surged down his throat, but almost evaporated at the same time. He felt his chest fill with air, not liquid, and he exhaled. He hadn’t died. He was breathing.

He then noticed the water pressure changing around him. It was getting lighter, even though he continued to plunge. His ears drums popped. The water felt warmer to him (or the air? He wasn’t sure at this point).

And then he breached the top of the water. It shocked him since he had been falling down, but now it seemed he had been falling. Ground had emerged beneath him when there hadn’t been any before. Nero stood in water that wasn’t black, in a place that wasn’t shriveled landscape. But most importantly, in the clear water, surrounded by lush mountains, stood a woman with her back to Nero. She turned around and looked at him. She saw the confusion and hesitation in his eyes and smiled at him.

“It took you long enough,” the woman said.

Pat.

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Runner up story

The Alien Inside Me
By Ahila Wilson

On a spring day morning, Sparkle was sitting in her half-worked backyard. Backyard with just enough paved space to keep her swing, with red cushions and metal frames. She looked up to the blue sky with patches of impure white clouds. Trees next to the compound with the remnant of winter the leaves not yet visible. The breeze that is unique to the desserts, chilly but comfortable early morning. As the swing oscillated front and back, her heart was rising. She doesn’t know why, there is no specific reason. No reasonable explanation for the apprehension, it’s just part of her life. Fear and anxiety rule many days of sparkle’s life. Thoughts of future engulf every bit of peace from her near-perfect today’s life.

She believes she trusts, she knows well about God, His might, His Sovereign will. Yet this struggle seems so real, that she is anxious, all the time! She worries about her daughter getting enough sleep, worries about her daughter’s school and friends, worries if her little one will wake up without a cry, worries if her husband will drive safe, worries about lunch, dinner, the mild headache she has might turn out to be something serious, then worries more, if it is serious what will happen to her daughter? …………the list grows endless.

When anxiety enters, it’s like an alien invasion. The invasion you don’t have proper weapons to fight. You don’t fully understand the reason for the invasion. No clarity about the battle strategies. The attacks are never predictable it’s always sporadic. Anxiety alien has a very peculiar strategy, instead of attacking an organ, he will make you slowly murder yourself by just pointing on potential issues in your life. He will little by little rob you of your strength and peace, he will leave your body so beaten up with crippling stress, sadly without any real cause.

Sparkle has very close friends, a loving family, in her beautiful little nest, nothing was lacking. Yet she fights this battle every single day, with every single choice. She fights with this alien inside her, alien, so cruel, so cleaver, so very crafty, alien with armors from the devil. She tries to overpower him at times by resisting, other times by letting him run, either strategy fail miserably.

Sparkle is tired of the endless arrows of the alien inside her mind. She needs to intentionally work even to have a thoughtless, peaceful mind for a minute. Doing dishes, getting her daughter ready, driving to work, even while she is talking, the alien’s fiery arrows of thoughts constantly run in her head. She needs to prepare, rehearse, and intentionally work just to have a peaceful lunch with her kindergartener at school. Any moment she is relaxed is always followed by endless moments of worry.

Fear, like the great Janeway in Voyager, exclaims, “fear only exists for one purpose. To be conquered.”- Janeway. Sparkle raises and tries to conquer, to fulfill the only purpose of all the fear, especially her irrational fears. Her endless fear with a particular aim of the Alien, Will Sparkle conquer her fear? That is a big question, but do you want to peak into Sparkle’s life and a glimpse at the endless battle she fights with the alien insider her. Alien with no intentions of peace with her…

“Where did it all start!” wondered Sparkle. How non-malign, how subtle, how usual, how unintentional the anxiety alien entered her life. Coordination of brain, nerve, lungs, and muscles, what a complex task it is to take a single breath, especially with a lung that never breathed before. Birth of a human is a strenuous endeavor, as glorious and miraculous as it is, it is definitely stress filled. In that well anticipated yet a chaos-filled moment of her first-ever breath into this depraved world, the alien could have entered her life.

Maybe a few times when she was rushed with her feedings, cleaning, as her mother needed to use a potty herself. The first pain experienced with the blood tests, first failure to meet a milestone, first time hospitalized, first in a doctor’s office, first day in kindergarten. Even a routine and pleasant childhood still possess tremendous stress on a child. It could have been any one of those ports that he sneaked into her peace filled childhood.

Sparkle continued to wonder, maybe there are shoulders made to bear, and those shoulders always have something to bear. The term is “codependency” or however you like to label it. There are hearts and minds that constantly require needs and responsibilities. I have seen people wither and lose themselves when their need is loosed. Empty nest, retired life, there is a reason why these terms hold a negative connotation. Sparkle is a doer when she sees the need, she does, and eventually, people relay on sparkle to do. They know she can do it, and she will stand with them during it. It is all good, it’s a beautiful thing to have someone to trust and to be a person others trust.

But the tragedy is, with an alien living inside, every little expectation looks like a tie rope around her neck. The alien who ties her mouth too tight when she tries words like, “no, that’s not possible” “I am sorry, I can’t” “Oh, we have plans.” The Alien erases those phrases from her mind’s memory bank. At times when these phrases surfaces, he threatens her to never utter them. She believed for a long time; it is what she does that makes who she is. She didn’t have any further identity. She wanted to please, please endless people, with their endless expectations. She dreaded to reveal her vulnerability to anyone, including the closest ones. Sparkle decided maybe it’s through her endless stress-filled schedule that the alien entered her life.

Finally, she realized, well before any of these portals ever exists, the little larva of this alien is instilled in her. “inclination,” she thought, “inclination is the word.” She is born with an inclination to fear and anxiety. Oh, sighed Sparkle, “We are all conceived in sin, and carry a dreadful alien larva in us, inclination to____________, many sins.” Sparkle’s is this, continues, controlling, constant, completely draining anxiety, that lives in her. It is true, she asserted. Around her everywhere, people poorer, in pain more, stressed more, but everyone doesn’t battel this specific alien, like her. Things are exaggerated with the anxiety alien in her, he blows things to look bigger, worse, harder, and so very hopeless. Now, she knew he was there as a larva, always was there, but every little mishap, every intruding expectation, every innocent hurrying all made him grow and become a monster that he is today. The monster sparkle needs to single handily conquer………. But how!

Sparkle crawls in her soul, not like a crawling baby with a most beautiful enthusiasm, but like a terminally ill with all hopes lost. Oh, that sad reality of many beings, how deceivingly perfect looking, how all put together, how fakingly peaceful, humans walk around at times. Walk with such chaos in their soul, with not so put together interior, every soul fighting their own unique aliens. So, did Sparkle crawled in her soul, all with the fittest body, beautiful family, successful life, indeed with a perfect exterior she walked tall, just outside.
Oh, now she stumbles even in her crawl, this is the feasting table of the alien. She gets a glimpse of his feast. She wants to know, what helps him grow? Oh, what a variety of dishes in that table, how horrible, how disgusting, how so graceless, to feed on someone’s vulnerabilities and grow to hurt them. But the alien sitting tall, unaffected, taking each dish and engulfing them without any second thought. He feeds on her sickness, her tiredness, her hardships, her loneliness, at a time when she is overworked, he feeds on anything that Sparkle can’t handle. He grows magnificently when sparkle faces legitimate difficulties, any little failure, and if she ever must try something new.
But, out of it all, the favorite dish of the alien is “control”. Sparkle wants to do it all, she can’t trust anyone to be responsible. Trusting someone is giving up control, it scares her to give up control. She can’t relax, the worst part of it all is that she complaints, “no one helps”. Control is a common enemy to human spices. A child tries to control parents, parents their children. Wives their husbands, husbands their wives. Mother in laws their daughters-in-law and daughters-in-law their mothers-in-law.
Part of being a human means subjectivity to overwhelming stresses. Stress due to natural causes, stress due to a free will of another, stress due to the choices we made, or dilemma we face. Where does it stop? when we look closer, it is very little we can control. Even in our own lives, there seem only our personal actions we can control, so what we say about our children’s life, our family, the people we dearly love, how much can we control it all. The anxiety alien gloriously feeds on control, and he gets a little more excited when we try specifically to control the uncontrollable. Sparkle speculated, knowing it all well in her mind, yet in her heart how much she longs to control the uncontrollable. She gains little perspectives about what the alien feeds on, but thus far clueless with her strategies to starve him.
She wants to win him, conquer him, complete this battle once and for all. But, how, how! she doesn’t know. As she watched him feed on all her misfortunes, she fell asleep on the couch that she was sitting ……………….

The Alien owns a wardrobe inside Sparkle’s mind, he wears amazingly deceiving outfits to revel himself to everybody around. One of his famous revels is anger. Sparkle is confused and she confuses everyone around her. Especially the one, who signed up to live with her “until death.” Her husband, most peace-filled, easy-going, a person with no acquaintance with Sparkle’s alien. Many times, he wonders, “I only asked a simple question!” But, only Sparkle knows, how a simple question from an innocent bystander has the potential to awake the monster in her. A little warning about a burning pancake, a query about dinner plan, discussion about finances, the very thought of buying something expensive, day to day conversations will awake the alien in her with wide eyes, and treacherous burst.

For a long time, Sparkle was angry, every intrusion, every little bitty change in schedule, if she ever lacks self-time, there will be an angry outburst. Outburst involving alien snorting wickedly, Sparkle screaming helplessly, everyone around her cringes cluelessly. How sadly everyone around her quickly decides, she tries to control everyone with her anger. How everyone, even the one, is oblivious to the alien hiding under her anger, controlling her. How easier, but so very misleading for her to be known as an angry person, not an anxious person.

Another, torn, ruthless, painfilled outfit the alien always loves to wear, depression! Alien makes Sparkle eat more, too much more, or make her starve. Make her sleep all day long, or role and role all night long. He makes her lose interest in everything around her. He tempts her to question her worth, value, identity, the very purpose she lives for. It’s scary, sad, and so very lonely for sparkle when the alien reveals himself, as depression.

The Alien changes his outfits all the time, based on different situations, “days” of a month, a person in front. He puts on unloving, arrogance, anger, upset, withdrawn, you name it he has an outfit for any season. He doesn’t look the same on any two occasions as sparkle tears each outfit with intense work, the alien conjures up few others. Sparkle’s life is like a leaking faucet, that sparkle couldn’t shut tight. As sparkle lived long with the alien in, she started noticing one interesting twist, the alien growls. Yes, growls in pain, and shrink a little, only once in a while. Sparkle with a  victory smile would like venture from the other side of the battleground, she seems ready to torment the alien now……………………………………

Sparkle, in her soul, stooped up a little, sitting with her hands supported only by bare dry ground. Is it real! Does she hear the alien growls in pain? A little smile, a very little smile, cracked in her face. She looked straight into his eyes; at that moment he was stripped of all his disguise. She realized, recognized the alien, he is fully naked, this is anxiety. Truth always holds power, truth even if it is tiny, even if it’s so very little, in its pure and complete form truth is so very powerful than any disguise. Why this deprived humanness must always hold tight to lies, why can’t we ever say it, as it is?
Sparkle wondered, “ Why do I struggle to say, “I am scared”, why can I never utter, “I am overwhelmed”, why I should be the one always with an answer, and the right answer?” Entrenched in deep thoughts, Sparkle looked yet again straight in the alien’s eye and declared,                       “ you are anxiety, you are a disorder.”  Every syllabus uttered from Sparkle’s mouth poured a lump of burning coal on the alien’s head.
Growling to screaming, he was running, he was restless. He shrills and starts to shrink. The glorious liberation a soul experiences, when it puts its fingers on its depravity. Sparkle, one glorious day in her middle age season, of her little lived long life, came to terms with her real struggle. On that victorious day, she called him with his real name, and like never before made the alien scream with pain.
This has happened before, moments of peace. When the house is quiet, things are arranged, her obsessions completed, Sparkle gets a brief glimpse of peace, the peace she is supposed to enjoy every minute. But in those brief minutes, she lives. Lives in the midst of green velvety lawns, smelling the new breeze of dawn, hearing the chirping of birds, just resting in her Saviors love, she lives brief moments like that. But never before, she has ever heard, the alien growls so loud. She always pondered; how beautiful it would be to live like those scattered moments of peace all the time. Yes, every peace-filled moment like that, the alien inside her growls with pain, her peace kills him a little. But until now, she never realized, the alien feeds on her peace only as much as she allows him to feed. The wide-open mouth of the alien is well situated in her tired and weary hands.
Right food, regular exercise, at times a real help, why not! medication and counseling, any step she takes, his growls continues. It is true after she called him with his name, she lives a little more than before. Now she is not as trapped, she is somewhat in control. She knows her enemy’s name and little strategies to fight him. But why, oh, why! she still doesn’t believe, she is the conqueror. She thinks so deeply, what will make him go away? All right, if he is here to stay, what should she do with him? Umm, there is one truth she believes, yes, every fear does exist to be conquered, but every pain has a purpose. Only if she could find the purpose, she could have conquered him for real. Oh, oh! not simply conquered, but made him her slave, now how wonderful that sounds?

In a continued effort to torment the Alien, Sparkle listens to multiple recordings, words of wise men and women. Not wise worldly, but spiritually, she hears endless sermons. One day as she was listening to a centuries-old sermon by Spurgeon, beautifully portraying Christ’s temptation in the wilderness for forty days. She heard, “But Jesus was more than a match for him. In the wrestling, He gave him a deadly fall and came out more than a conqueror. Lamb of God! I will remember Your desert strivings when next I combat with Satan. When next I have a conflict with roaring Diabolus, I will look to Him who conquered once and for all and broke the dragon’s head with His mighty blows!” Rev. C.H. Spurgeon. Sparkle remembered that cosmic battle that was finalized millennials ago. She wondered, just as the angels watched that battle, maybe they watch every battle. Every battle that a believer wage with that old, old Diabolus. Diabolus with different names, as different aliens, depression, addiction, anxiety, illness, death, scared, poverty, power……… Sparkle’s mind ran through endless battles of this age, and the saints who fight it constantly.
Sparkle made her resolve, she is not a conqueror but more than that, she is “more than a conqueror” in every battle that she might ever wage. Conquerors win and that’s where they stop, but when you are more than that, you make your enemy slave for his entire life. Sparkle clearly knew she wages this war from victory post, it is finished, it is finished, literally, everything is finished. Every temptation, every sin, every failure, every shame, every guilt, every pain and endless sufferings, every condemnation, it is all finished, so as her Alien. He is finished as well, not in this little war that Sparkle wage, but how gloriously thousands of years before in that most loving war that was ever waged, “single-handed combat when the champion lion of the Pit and the mighty Lion of the tribe of Judah fought together.” C.H. Spurgeon.
Now, with a triumph she rose, she not only conquered her alien, but she also enslaved him to work for her, as long as he is here. He shrunk, shrunk so small, with a petty feeble growl, he is scared of what she might do! He knows in his heart, many aliens in his likeness, she will destroy them all with a secret weapon at her disposal. She took her pen and start to write, all his strategies, his wardrobe, his delicacies, above all else the truth that he is indeed “finished”. She roared in her words, “The Alien is dead, he holds no power or strength that is innate, he borrows it all from his host.” Sparkle hit submit and publish. Oh, it is then she realized the world is filled with fume that starts from her pen, fumes poisonous to aliens everywhere. Fumes that reaches every nook and corner, every little place where the aliens might hide.
The Alien inside sparkle is her slave, slave who helplessly helps Sparkles to kill many more aliens out. She is not so naïve, she knew, it is not the entire world, but some very special world, someone else’s world, maybe a woman who is reading this prologue, and just ready to pass it on to one more. The Alien is done, he is done, years before he was done, but how splendid now, Sparkle found the purpose, purpose of her pain, with her pen she is to kill many aliens by enslaving her own inside her.

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