I stare at the screen with my mouth hanging wide open in shock and horror. The caption reads: SIXTEEN taon OLD BOY BRUTALLY MURDERED IN LOS ANGELES
The anchorwoman says, "Late last night in Los Angeles, California, sixteen taon old Wyatt Starmount was killed. The identity of his murderer is unclear, but authorities say he's hispanic, six feet tall, and was last seen wearing a gray hoodie.
Now here's a video of Wyatt's death. Due to the graphic nature of this video, viewer discretion is advised." the lady informs me.
The video starts. The boy I realize is Wyatt is walking down the street. Sure enough, a tall foreign man in a panglamig follows Wyatt. He suddenly turns around and is terrified. The man is holding a sword or spear, I'm unsure. Wyatt asks the man for mercy. The man refuses, curses, stands behind Wyatt, and plunges the weapon through the back of his throat. Right away he looks dead; there's no struggle or even a noise.
The video shuts off. "LAPD is working feverishly on this case. The Starmount family is holding a private wake and funeral for their son. And now, let's go to Joey Walter for a sports update." she concludes. I am horrified and immediately turn off the television. Even though the screen is pitch-black, I keep seeing the contact between Wyatt's delicate skin and that metal sword, then the pool of blood.
As I watch the nightmare over and over, something sticks in my head: Why would someone want to kill him? What's their reasoning and motive? What did Wyatt do?
The anchorwoman says, "Late last night in Los Angeles, California, sixteen taon old Wyatt Starmount was killed. The identity of his murderer is unclear, but authorities say he's hispanic, six feet tall, and was last seen wearing a gray hoodie.
Now here's a video of Wyatt's death. Due to the graphic nature of this video, viewer discretion is advised." the lady informs me.
The video starts. The boy I realize is Wyatt is walking down the street. Sure enough, a tall foreign man in a panglamig follows Wyatt. He suddenly turns around and is terrified. The man is holding a sword or spear, I'm unsure. Wyatt asks the man for mercy. The man refuses, curses, stands behind Wyatt, and plunges the weapon through the back of his throat. Right away he looks dead; there's no struggle or even a noise.
The video shuts off. "LAPD is working feverishly on this case. The Starmount family is holding a private wake and funeral for their son. And now, let's go to Joey Walter for a sports update." she concludes. I am horrified and immediately turn off the television. Even though the screen is pitch-black, I keep seeing the contact between Wyatt's delicate skin and that metal sword, then the pool of blood.
As I watch the nightmare over and over, something sticks in my head: Why would someone want to kill him? What's their reasoning and motive? What did Wyatt do?
Courtesy of the cartoonist, Clangnuts
All authors want to be original. If someone even mentions that a writer's work reminds them of someone else's, the writer tenses up. "No, no, no, I'm nothing like him," he says swiftly. "I've never even read him."
"Yeah, but it's kinda like him," the reader persists, believing she is giving a compliment rather than an insult. "He's incredible, you should read him!"
The thing is-- it should be a compliment when a reader compares your work to...
This is a story; my story. I am Damien Cole Demidov. My grandparents are full-blooded Russian. I am twenty-one years old, and I’ve been locked up in an asylum for four years.
I have black hair about four inches from my shoulders. I am vampire pale. I have crystal blue eyes. I’m 5’9’’.
I have met many a person in my time. Maybe you’ll meet some of the throughout the story.
Anywho, I live in the U.S. now, shipped over with my mom when I was twelve. I live in New York City at the moment. My mom is back in Russia with my father, and grandparents.
Now, let’s see what’s in store for us.
I have black hair about four inches from my shoulders. I am vampire pale. I have crystal blue eyes. I’m 5’9’’.
I have met many a person in my time. Maybe you’ll meet some of the throughout the story.
Anywho, I live in the U.S. now, shipped over with my mom when I was twelve. I live in New York City at the moment. My mom is back in Russia with my father, and grandparents.
Now, let’s see what’s in store for us.
Here I spread the mga kulay of my life
They sound like a tune of fife
They always closed me in a dark room
I put on my headphones, enjoyed & played the boom
It's so boring to just see the sky
Today I decided I'll go and fly
Eveyones mind is full of depressions
But mine is full of imaginations
I changed the dark night into shining sequins
And the heap into beautiful fragrance
I don't want you to make my hair a mess
Cause I'm wearing the tiara to be a princess
My passion, my obsession, my desire
Don't interfere in between or I'll blow you up with flames of fire
They sound like a tune of fife
They always closed me in a dark room
I put on my headphones, enjoyed & played the boom
It's so boring to just see the sky
Today I decided I'll go and fly
Eveyones mind is full of depressions
But mine is full of imaginations
I changed the dark night into shining sequins
And the heap into beautiful fragrance
I don't want you to make my hair a mess
Cause I'm wearing the tiara to be a princess
My passion, my obsession, my desire
Don't interfere in between or I'll blow you up with flames of fire
