Beginning to my story (takes place in the 1700’s)

To the person reading this, I hope I keep you interested until the end. My life is quite
different from the average persons.

I have no recollection of my childhood but a few memories that I would recallmember

later in life. I was rippedborn from the corpse of my lynched mother hanging from the
branch of a underneath a hanging tree where I was left to die alone in a mire of blood and
placentaafterbirth. A few of the citizens found me and took me to the local orphanage. I
found purpose in helping mom do the chores and playing with the other children. When I
turned six, I was sold to the capital, an absolute monarchy and a ruthless place where the
emperor’s word is law. I did hard labor tasks for three years until I was adopted by a caring
family.

Then came the day I lost everything. On my birthday, I walked home in the dark, humming
to myself. It was my birthday and I finally had a family to celebrate it with. Drowning in my
happy thoughts, I dashed home, ecstatic to see what surprise my family planned for me. I
came home, only to see the door already opened. That was unusual, I thought to myself. I
quietly stepped in the house, half expecting confetti to pop out of nowhere and the bright
faces of my siblings. I turned around, only to see my parents being held at gunpoint. I
dropped my bag and collapsed on the ground for a few minutes, trying to process what
was happening. The buffer of the two men walked over after noticing me in the doorway.
Holding me at gunpoint, he said that every minute that passeds without me finding the
stash, one of my family members would get shot. I ran for my life, tearing apart the house
trying to find something that remotely resembled a bag. After what felt like 30 seconds, I
heard a BANG coming from upstairs. I sprinted up. There, my sister was lying in a pool of
blood oozing from a gigantic hole in her forehead. I screamed and blacked out.

I woke up in a dark room. Where was I? Memories of last night flooded back into my mind.
I doubled over, trying not to throw up. Moments later, I got up. I had all the time in the
world to mourn later. I needed to figure out my whereabouts and escape route. I opened
the door which was not locked and stepped outside, feeling the hazy sunlight on my skin,
my gaze settled on the stoic man reading the newspaper on the couch.

“I see you’ve awoken,” he said.

“Where am I and where are my parents” I replied with a hint of panic in my voice.
“They’re dead,” the man replied stoically.

____
If wishes could be granted. If desires could be fulfilled, then I wouldn’t wish for anything at
all. The things you are handed on a silver platter are never genuine, never everlasting. And
that is why I’ll always keep searching.