Chapter 1 - A Dying WorldThey should have heeded the warnings. The old rulers of the world even called them out on it. But all they cared about was money, not even worrying about all the millions and millions who would die. The millions who would die just so they could live comfortably in their big, luxurious sanctuaries. The rich will pay.
My name is Samael Saller. I am twenty-five rotations old, and I am one of The Forgotten. We live in the under streets of the cities. I was born and raised here, beneath The Sanctuary, the largest remaining city on Earth. The rich and powerful live above us in their protected dome, safe from the toxic air and burning heat. But they are not protected, they will soon suffer as the rest of the world does. I run through the shadows, staying hidden from sight. My filter mask barely helps with the muddy brown air. I stop, doubling over coughing. I don't know how any life could possibly survive outside in these conditions. I could barely run ten feet without the pollution burning my lungs. It all started fifty years ago. The old rulers of the world, known as the U.N. delivered a warning in the year 2019. They warned the world was getting too warm thanks to pollution. The warning even stated it was the rich who polluted the most. Those of us who had the smallest effect did all we could to stop it, but it was useless, we were only a small part of the problem. And the world died. Forests burned, adding to the carbon in the atmosphere. The world became superheated, melting every piece of ice, even in the coldest places. The oceans expanded, encompassing much of the land. People fled to cities high in the mountains, trying to escape. And so the sanctuaries were created. I am out for revenge. I want to show the rich and powerful just how unsafe they are in their little sanctuaries. I want revenge for the Earth, and for The Forgotten. We are The Forgotten, the people who live in the shadow of the rich and powerful. We suffer daily from the dying Earth, her very air turned against us. I duck into an ally, left behind from the original city infrastructure. I think the city was in a nation called the United States before the governments collapsed. But that didn't matter. Now there is only The Sanctuary, and the under streets. As far as I am concerned, this is it. This is what is left of the world. Sure there are rumors of other sanctuaries, places where even The Forgotten can have pure air. But those are just myths and legends. I search the alleyway for my stashed away supplies. Opening an old dumpster, I find my bag full of equipment. I spent years gathering this stuff. A grappling hook, pistol, knife, and the pride of my collection, a phase board. The phase board would come particularly in handy when I had to run. Equipping myself with the pistol on one side and the knife on the other, I examined the alleyway. According to my research, there was an entrance to The Sanctuary not too far from here. Pulling the grappling hook out, I took aim at the nearest rooftop. Pulling the trigger, the hook went flying, locking securely onto the edge of the roof. I hung on for dear life, the hook retracting, pulling me up slowly. The ground shrunk beneath my feet until I was high enough that I could barely make it out through the smog. Following the instructions I'd been given, I hopped from rooftop to rooftop. It was excruciating, the poisonous air searing my lungs. Finally, I came to the entrance. It was a vent barely large enough for a grown man like me to go through. Right above me was the curved underside of The Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is a massive dome to put it simply. A marvel of engineering, The Sanctuary was miles across, and miles high. A glass dome covered the top, protecting both the pure air and the rich from the outside world. I was going to be one of the first of The Forgotten to enter without permission. I smiled. I couldn't wait to see their smug faces when they saw a Forgotten had somehow penetrated their sanctuary. Worming my way into the vent, I hauled myself up. As I crawled through the cramped vents, I thought of today's target. Otto Farvald. The worst of them all. He was the leader among the wealthy. In fact, he'd owned many of the companies that made them money. I couldn't wait to see him on the ground, begging me for mercy. A light glowed ahead. The end of the ventilation. I looked through the slits in the vent cover. The vents had led me right to the filter room. Kicking the vent off, I dropped to the ground. With any luck, nobody had heard the clatter. Walking to the only door in the room, I peeked out. It was incredible. So much green flooded my eyes. I'd only seen this much green in pictures. The door led into an open courtyard, filled with trees and grass. I took a deep breath in. Pure air. I took my mask off and inhaled again. It was so refreshing. The purest air I'd ever breathed filled my burned lungs. I reminded myself of my mission. Sneaking along the edge of the courtyard, I looked for the biggest building. That was where Otto would be holed up. Weaving through the buildings, I found the most impressive mansion. I used my grappling hook to latch onto the roof. Climbing up, I started across the maze-like rooftop. I'd been told Otto spent most of his time hidden away in his bedroom, which laid at the highest point of his mansion. Sure I'd killed some of the rich before, but never someone like Otto. Never the wealthiest. I'd killed six people who'd been dumb enough to leave the safety of The Sanctuary. It served them right. The lives of the rich for the life of the planet. Justice served. I can see it. Otto's bedroom. Through the glass I can see him, laying peacefully asleep in his bed. Not for long. My target is within my grasp. My name is Samael Saller, and I'm The Forgotten Earth's lawyer.
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How I Got To NowYou know, lately I have been thinking a lot about the past, and how I got to where I am today. It certainly has not been an easy path, full of bumps, bruises, and more than a little bit of frustration. But it has all been worth it to get to this point, a published author by 16, first book published while 15. So, since I've realized I haven't really told my story yet on the blog, I've decided now is as good a time as any. So lets learn about how I went from hating writing, to being a published teenage author. It all started when I was around 8 or 9. I absolutely loathed writing. As it was put by my mother, 'it was weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth to get you to write a few sentences.' I was that bad. But don't worry, I am obviously MUCH better now. After all, I still manage to put out a few posts of writing a week and survive High School, don't I? But I digress. My mom got so fed up with my hatred of writing (which was surprising considering I'd loved reading since I was about 3 or 4), that she decided to do something about it. So she came across the fantastic Brave Writer curriculum and started to use that on me. It involved a lot more fun projects, one of which was the creation of your own fantasy map. And thus the world known as The Middle Lands was born. With this map came a few short stories about the history of this place, which if I'm being honest, were not very good. Fast forward a few years, and I went to a book launch for one of Richard Paul Evan's Michael Vey books. At this book launch there was a young woman by the name of McKenzie Wagner who had written and published her book Benotripia. I realized she was just about my age, and that made something in my mind click. I realized if this gal could write and publish a book, why couldn't I. At the daring ages of 11 or 12, I started work on Stones of The Middle Lands Book 1 with little to no plan and with my mom somewhat dragging me through the process yet again. Finally, I had a finished product after around a year of blood, sweat and tears. And nothing happened. The biggest thing that happened was we ordered a couple custom copies from a service called Blurb to satisfy our own pleasures. It stayed that way for years, until a fantastic coincidence occurred A little bit of backstory on my family. We are not big on "traditional schooling." In fact, I didn't even really do traditional preschool. My mom saw that I was already above the rest of the kids and decided to start educating me at my own level, instead of whittling my days away in the public school system. Since then we have bounced around different online charter schools, getting the best education we can, and participating in the occasional homeschooling co-op. Anyway, on with the story. Most folks may call it a coincidence, I consider it some form of fate or divine intervention. Either way, my mom was at a co-op for my younger brother when she got talking with one of the other moms there. She found out that this other mom recently started her own small independent publishing company. My mom mentioned that years before I'd written a book of my own, and this other mother asked if she could read it, just because. And boy did that lead me down a rabbit hole. My mother sending my first book to Teapots Away Press led me on my greatest endeavor yet. This other mother was impressed by the plot of the book, not so much the writing. She told us if I was willing to rewrite it with the better writing skills of a 15 year old, then she would be willing to publish it. Of course, we had to weigh what this would really mean, but we jumped on board, signed a contract, and got cracking. It took months of behind the scenes publishing stuff to get it all done. I had to entirely rewrite a 40+ chapter book, edit it, re-edit it, and finalize it, all while trying to survive my Sophomore year of High School. But we managed to do it. There was little to no rest for me, between school assignments, classes, and writing, there wasn't a ton of time for me to do "fun" stuff. But I was so excited to get going on this huge project. We used breaks to do vast amounts of writing and later editing done, which meant very busy Fall and Winter breaks. Yet we somehow managed to do it. While the process was often hard, it was also so rewarding. It was amazing to see creatures and places that had only existed in my mind until this point portrayed in professionally done artwork. It was incredible to have so much support from my friends and family, to see how excited they were for me. It made all the extra blood, sweat, and tears worth it. Finally, we reached the day. All the artwork was finalized, every word was as it should be, and I was so pumped. It was a dream come true to be a published author at 15, only a month short of my 16th birthday. In April 2019, just 4 months ago, my first book ever was published. Stones of The Middle Lands: The Castaway Hero was released into the world. I haven't experienced a ton of what most would call "success." To my knowledge, only around 50 of 60 copies have been sold yet. But it's a start, and I am so excited to see what the future will bring. So lets talk about that. What The Future Holds, and An Exciting AnnouncementThe future is a place of infinite possibility. It holds every opportunity, if we just decide to reach out and take it. After my first book was released, I created an entire road-map of what I wanted to publish all the way through 2032. I'm that excited. Now chances are that nothing will go exactly according to that plan, but a boy can hope to exceed it, not fall short. So here's what I see in the future, and then we'll get to the announcement. At this point in time, I see a lot of writing in my future, just week by week. I have committed myself to writing at least one blog post and one short story/poem a week and sending it out to all of you fantastic people. That alone keeps me plenty busy in addition to my Junior year of High School. But I also plan on finishing the Stones of The Middle Lands series before I graduate High School. That is my big goal. Beyond that, there is so much more for me to look forward to. I plan on going to college after serving a religious mission for a few years. As I mentioned, I have road-mapped out the books I plan on publishing for the foreseeable future. This includes some fantastic Middle Lands prequel possibilities, as well as further stories elsewhere in the world of The Middle Lands. But that's quite far in the future. For now, lets just celebrate the current announcement. BOOK 2 IS COMING!!!!!Oh yeah, you heard me right. The sequel to The Castaway Hero is coming, and its already well on its way. It is full of many new twists and turns, new foes and allies. So get hyped ladies and gents, its gunna be a whopper! I can't wait to get this book into your hands, but until next time, keep on writing!
WARNING: May not be suitable for all readers.This story contains themes of suicide and death. If you are not comfortable with such themes, read at your own digression. This final part in particular shows a man killing himself, and involves bloody imagery. You have been warned. Part 3: UnlivedIt was a rather cloudy day when Tristan woke up for the last time. The dark storm clouds brought an even darker mood to his apartment.
"I suppose it's fitting," Tristan muttered to himself. "Cloudy on the day I end it all." Tristan had already arranged his letters to everyone he needed to. He only hoped that they would make the impact he wanted. It was too late for him, but maybe his friends and family could make a difference to somebody else. Tristan started to prepare what would be his final meal. A sweet breakfast of cinnamon rolls, slathered in cream cheese frosting. His favorite. The sweet frosting melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with the sweet flavor. "It's a pity life can't be this sweet." Tristan thought out loud. "Maybe then it would be worth living." The last few months, no, last few years Tristan had been living in a fog. He'd merely survived, going through the daily motions. Wake, eat, work, sleep, repeat. His life had been unfulfilling, not worth living. So, a few weeks ago he'd made the decision to end it all. And now that everything was sorted out, it was finally time. Tristan walked to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. He felt strangely calm, at peace with his decision. He supposed having weeks to brace himself for it allowed him to make peace with it. Tristan didn't particularly believe in an afterlife, but if there was one, he hoped to end up wherever he'd feel the most at peace. Pulling a razorblade off the shelf, Tristan stepped into the bathtub. He sat down, revealing the extremely sharp blade. Tristan held the blade to his arm, his hand shaking. For a moment he hesitated before recommitting himself. The razor-sharp blade pierced his skin, sending spikes of pain up his arm and into the rest of his body. He slowly cut down from top of his forearm to his wrist, opening a gaping bloody wound in his arm. Moving on to the other arm, a symmetrical wound soon appeared on his other arm. Blood rushed from the wounds, surrounding Tristan in a small pool of his own blood. As he bled out in the bathtub, Tristan's life flashed before his eyes. He remembered when he was seven, he got a puppy for his birthday. He'd been so happy to have a pet of his own, Rufus. They'd been inseparable until Rufus grew old and died. Tristan cried for days afterward, missing his best friend, that ever loyal german shepherd. Tristan's mind wove through his childhood. As he thought back on it, maybe his childhood hadn't been as horrible as he'd perceived it to be. His father had worked hard to provide them with a very nice house, and they'd frequently gone on vacation to awesome places. That was until they stopped going places, and the arguing had intensified. As Tristan entered his teenage years, he and his parents stopped getting along and constantly argued. Soon after that, Tristan had met Felix, Henry, and Halia. He'd turned to them as his second family, the ones that wouldn't argue with him over little things. But he never felt like he fit in with them. It was like they were in a league of their own and he was just their ride. In a moment of clarity, Tristan could see how much they really had included him. They would text him out of nowhere and ask if he wanted to go to the mall or go bowling with them. He'd just failed to see the positive because of the drama at home. after they'd graduated, they'd drifted apart, moving on with their lives. After High School, Tristan had gotten a job at a call center. It didn't pay very well, but it kept him in a decent little apartment. There he'd endured days of angry customers, unfriendly coworkers, and a jerk manager. It eventually got into his head, filling it even more with negative thoughts. Voices in his head telling him he wasn't enough, he wasn't worthy of love. Voices telling him he didn't deserve to live. And all of that had led him to this point, all alone, bleeding to death in a tiny little apartment. Tristan snapped out of the memories. Even though he was as good as dead at this point, his mind was clearer than it had been in years. Everything suddenly made sense. He'd always been too worried about what others think. Tristan had put others opinions above his own. He'd been too afraid of what others would think of him to truly live his life. His life had been unlived. He'd failed to appreciate himself, to love himself. He could have done so much more, lived so much more. If only he'd realized sooner that the opinion of others didn't matter, didn't define who he was. "I don't want to go." Tristan whispered as his mind started to slow from blood loss. "I could do so much more! I have so much to live for!" Tristan tried to haul himself out of the bathtub, to find help. But he'd lost too much blood. His arms offered no support, and he collapsed back into the bathtub. He started to cry as the last drops of blood bled from his wounds. If only he could get out of here, find help. He could turn his life around, make it worth living. But it was too late for him. Tristan stared emptily at the ceiling as the final drop of blood dripped from his arm. His last tear rolled down his cheek as his world went black. His life had gone unappreciated, unloved, unlived. It's Time For School! Yes, it is that time of year once again. School is starting back up, whether its Elementary, Middle, High School, or College, most people have returned. Now I personally absolutely love my school, and I hope you do to. But even if you do love school, you can always use some tips and tricks to help you get that extra leg up and help you survive the school year. So lets hop right into it! Find What You Are Passionate About!The first and in my opinion, best thing you can do to make school better is find what you are passionate about. What makes you get up in the morning happy and ready to face the day? Is it music? Writing? Science? I cannot recommend enough, find what you are passionate about, and pursue it. Take extra courses related to that topic, and learn everything you can about the subject. I have been lucky enough to find my passion for writing at a prime time of my life, about halfway through high school. So, go out there and find what you are passionate about! Schedule, Schedule, Schedule!I know many of you already have a quite tight schedule, especially those that are in "Public School." You may think you don't need any more schedule outside of your classes at your school, but this is wrong. You have homework, which takes time. So, what you need to do is consider how long each piece of homework will take you, then schedule out time for specific assignments, BEFORE the due date. Trust me, it will make a HUGE difference, and you will do a lot better if you know exactly what you should be working on. Take Breaks!While there may not be much time for breaks during school hours, when you are doing homework assignments, take breaks. A general rule of thumb I have come to know is a 45:10 ratio. Spend 45 minutes working on whatever schoolwork you have, and then take a 10 minute break. Grab a snack, play a few songs on the guitar or piano, just a good shift in scenery. Heck, go for a walk or do a meditation. If you give your mind a bit of time to rest, you can go right back at it with a renewed vigor. Switch To Diffuse Mode When You Get StuckWe were recently talking in my Pre-calc class about Focused Mode versus Diffused Mode. When you are working on an assignment, you tend to be in focused mode, where you get very one minded and not as versatile. This particularly applies to math, where you may be thinking "there is only one way to solve this problem", when in reality there are more ways to figure it out. So take a step back, do something that requires less brain function, such as playing a song, or watching a short video. Just be careful not to get distracted. Then return to the problem, and generally having switched to Diffused Mode you will be better able to think outside the box you were trapped in. Think About How Blessed You Are To Be In School!The last thing I cannot recommend enough is that you think about how blessed you are to even be in school. All around the world, many people would kill to get the education you are receiving, even at a grade school level. I recently read a book called I Will Always Write Back, about this young woman from the U.S. that becomes pen pals with a young man in Zimbabwe. Throughout the book, it is mentioned just how valuable education is to Martin, the young man in Africa, and the extreme lengths he went through to get a decent education. All true by the way. So consider how lucky you are to even be getting an education, and suddenly that essay won't seem so hard to do. To End.While school may not be everyone's favorite thing on the planet, it is incredibly valuable. I know this must seem strange to hear from a Junior in High School, but please value your education. Use these tips and tricks on a daily basis, and watch your knowledge fly! I hope this was useful, and you can go at school with a fresh and renewed vigor!
Hey, speaking of school, you know what goes with school? BOOKS! You know who has a great book? ME! If you want a nice, easy read that also has some great deep themes, check out my debut novel, Stones Of The Middle Lands: The Castaway Hero, out now on Amazon HERE and Barnes and Noble HERE. If you want some more writings, you should also check out my short stories Hunted: A Revolutionary Short Story and Unappreciated, Unloved, Unlived, on THIS page. Until next time, keep on writing! WARNING: May not be suitable for all readers.This story contains themes of suicide and death. If you are not comfortable with such themes, read at your own digression. Part 2: UnlovedMaia woke up early in the morning, her back aching. Age was certainly catching up to her. In her early fifties, her children had all left the house several years ago. At first, it had been strange, the empty quietness of just her and her husband. But eventually, she'd gotten used to the silence, and she enjoyed it. She rolled over on the bed to see her lovely husband, Abu, still snoring like a chainsaw.
She realized she couldn't go back to sleep, so she moaned as she sat up in the bed, back popping. Maia slowly walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living area. Realizing she hadn't brought in the mail yesterday, she walked outside in her bathrobe and slippers to bring it in. The fresh air was nice on her face, and she breathed in deeply. The morning was beautiful, the air crisp, and the world quiet. Opening the mailbox she pulled out the cluster of mail. As she walked back, she sorted through it. Mostly advertisements and bills, one letter caught her eye. It said it was from her son Tristan. A broad smile crossed her face. She hadn't heard from Tristan in over a year. Shouting happily, she ran inside, whooping and hollering. Abu came out of the bedroom, a sour look on his face from being woken up. "What is it Maia?" he asked. "Why are you so excited?" "We got a letter from Tristan!" Maia exclaimed. "Come on, let's read it. We haven't heard from him in so long." "Fine," Abu grumbled. "I just hope he's got a valid excuse for ignoring us for more than a year." The two of them sat down side by side on the couch as Maia opened the letter. They started to read it silently. Hey Mom, Dad. It's me, Tristan. I am really sorry I didn't ever come to visit much. But this isn't why I'm writing to you. I'm writing to explain to you part of why I made the decision to end my life, and what part you contributed. Maia's chest suddenly felt pained. This wasn't a letter from her son catching them up on life. This was his suicide note. Tears started to gather in her eyes, but she continued reading. I want you to understand what it was like growing up in our family. I felt unloved. We never said 'I love you' around the house. And we constantly fought, even over petty things like who's job it was to do the dishes. Nobody ever seemed to apologize, nobody ever admitted when they were wrong. And it only got worse at bigger family functions. Whenever we got together with the rest of the family, everybody just fought and fought. It wasn't even over current things. Our family fought over grudges from decades ago. Maia had never considered how much their family fought. She'd grown up in a household that fought their feelings out. She'd always been under the impression that it was completely normal for a family to have their disagreements and not resolve them. And because of that, she'd forced that environment on her own children. The letter continued. But I don't want to be like that. I don't want to go to the grave with a grudge against you two. If nothing else, I want you to learn a lesson from my death. I killed myself because I felt unappreciated, unwanted, and so I unlived. Now it's not all your fault, a few others contributed to these feelings. My only hope is that my death will spark some change in you. Who else could have contributed to Tristan's death? It couldn't have been his friends. They'd always been good to him, loyal. Unless there had been things she hadn't seen. Unless maybe his friends hadn't been as kind as she'd thought. She continued reading the letter. The lesson I want you to learn is this: Love More. I want you to love others like you never seemed to love me. Tell my siblings how much you love them. Tell your friends, acquaintances, and the world that you love them. Who knows, maybe you will help stop someone else from going down the path I did. I hope you do. The world could use a little more love. Until we meet again in the next life, Love - Tristan The words stung Maia. It hurt her to think Tristan felt unloved in her home. She thought she'd provided him with plenty to show him she loved him. But he'd felt so unloved that he'd killed himself. It hurt her to her very core. She felt like her heart was bleeding out within her chest, ripped open by Tristan's death and the words he'd left behind. Maia and Abu cried. They cried for the loss of their child. They cried for their regrets of not telling him how loved he was. And they cried for everyone else they knew would be hurt by Tristan's death. "What do we do now?" Maia said, sniffling. "We do what Tristan asked," Abu said, his voice horse from crying. "We tell everyone we love them. We try to make the world a better place so nobody else feels unloved." Maia nodded. "We can't let anyone else feel unappreciated, or unloved." "Agreed," Abu said. "Now it is our job to bring more love into the world. Who knows, maybe we can prevent more people from being like Tristan. Unappreciated, unloved, and unlived." Believe it or not, writers blunder!Even the best of us mess up at times. So we're here today to showcase five of the biggest writing blunders you can do! Don't feel bad if you are guilty of any of these, it means you still have more to work on! Lets dive right into it! Blunder 5: The "Perfect" First DraftAll too often, people stress out because their first draft is "not the best", or "it's not good enough to be published!" The fact of the matter is, first drafts are supposed to be messy. The first draft is basically you telling yourself the story. It doesn't need to be perfect, it just needs to be written! You will have plenty of time to perfect your story with consecutive drafts. The first draft just needs to be written in the first place to provide you with a jumping off point. Blunder 4: Info DumpsThis is one that I am all to guilty of. An "info dump" is when you just throw a ton of information at the reader. This could be a ton of exposition, or loads of details about your world that you might find interesting, but is not essential. Even if it is essential information, it shouldn't be dumped in a heap in front of the reader. Cut out the needless info dumps. If you need to get certain information across to the reader, have it revealed bit by bit. An off comment here by character X, something the hero notices out of the corner of the eye. As an added bonus, this also helps add suspense and mystery. Blunder 3: Normal Life is BORING!Look, as fascinating as you may find your hero's everyday life to be, the reader probably wont. We don't go looking for the book "The Average Life of Average Joe." No, we look for tales of adventure and heroism, things different from everyday life. If people wanted to read about everyday life, they can look back in their journals. So cut out the couple chapters or whatever of everyday life and cut right to the action, the variance from daily life. Blunder 2: Overusing Cliche'sLook, I like cliche's just as much as the next guy. But these things are called cliche's for a reason. They are overused WAY too much. Now I'm not saying cliche's are completely terrible. In fact, a cliche' can be a wonderful jumping off point. But every line should not be cliche! People don't just suddenly fall in love, they tend to do it over time. No one is a completely pure hero. What you should do however, is take a cliche, and turn it on its head. Make it new and original to you and your story. That is how some of the best hero's and plots are created. Subvert peoples expectations and make it new and exciting to the reader. Blunder 1: Messy POVIn case you didn't know, POV stands for "point of view." A problem a lot of writers deal with, especially amateurs, is keeping your POV consistent. If your story is being told in the first person, it should not halfway through a chapter switch to third person narrator. It's fine if you have different POV's across different chapters, in fact, some of my favorite books do this, and I even switch perspectives for a few chapters in my novels. But just don't change it when halfway through a chapter. To End (and customary plug!)I hope this has been helpful for you. Please remember, if you are guilty of any of these blunders(and you most likely are), don't feel bad about it. Just work on improving. If you notice that you really do overuse cliche's, just stop and start looking at ways to change them. If you do have info dumps, start spreading information out in nuanced ways. You are capable of overcoming these blunders.
I know, I know, just a bit more. But I have to fit in my obligatory schpeel somewhere. If you want to read my first novel, The Castaway Hero, you can get it on Amazon HERE and through Barnes and Noble HERE. Until next time, keep on writing! WARNING: May not be suitable for all readers.This story contains themes of suicide and death. If you are not comfortable with such themes, read at your own digression. Part 1: Unappreciated"Hey man, have you heard from Tristan recently?" The message popped up on Felix's screen. It was from his old friend Henry. Clicking on the message, Felix drafted his response. "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?" "I was just thinking about our friends," Henry replied. "How come?" "I received this strange note the other day. It told me to gather my friends from high school at a specific date, time, and location. I already talked to Halia. You and Tristan were the last people I hadn't contacted yet." Felix paused a moment before responding. "Are you going to send me the details or not?" "Are you going to come?" Henry asked. "If it works with my schedule, sure thing. I haven't seen any of the old gang in years!" Felix sent his last message. Turning his phone off, he laid back in his recliner. It struck him as odd that Henry brought up the old gang because he'd just been thinking about them. All the good old times back in high school, before they were all scattered by life. Henry's message came through. The details lined up perfectly with Felix's schedule. I guess it's just meant to be. Felix thought. A week later, Felix rolled up to the address, his window down. The other two stood waiting for him. They were gathered around a piece of paper with the large letters written across it. ONLY READ ME WHEN EVERYONE IS HERE Felix got out of his car. Something felt off about this whole scenario. Henry suddenly getting a note telling him to gather his friends, right outside of their old school. The fact that nobody could get a hold of Tristan. It just gave him an unnerving feeling. As he walked up to the group, Henry hailed him. "Hey Felix, I'm glad you made it!" "Yeah, sorry I'm a bit late, traffic was a real pain," Felix said. "Oh, you're all good man. I'm just glad you made it." Henry said. "What's up with the piece of paper?" Felix asked as they joined the rest of the group. "No clue." Halia, Felix's old crush said. "But now that we're all here, we can finally find out." "So read it then," Felix said, gesturing at the piece of paper. Henry flipped the paper over. On the other side was a nicely written letter. They all read it silently. Hello, all of my old friends. It's Tristan. I'm glad that you are all together for at least one more time. It's just too bad that I couldn't be there. Not that any of you noticed my absence anyway. I suppose this is my way of providing all of you with a final sendoff before I leave for good. "Before I leave for good?" Felix whispered. "What's that supposed to mean?" "I have no clue man, just keep reading," Halia said. First of all, I want to know, did any of you really care about me? Did you ever notice when I wasn't there and did you even care when I was? Because I never could tell if I was just that one kid you allowed to stay with you. I never really knew if you cared about me. And that's really too bad because that is ultimately what led to my decision. My decision to kill myself. Felix's heart dropped. This wasn't just any note, it was a suicide note. It was like a horrible accident, one that you wanted to look away from but simply couldn't. The other two let out a gasp as they read. I want all of you to know a few things. I really cared about all of you, I really did. I looked up to all three of you. You were like the older siblings I never had. You each meant the world to me. But why would a world pay attention to a lowly little man like me, right? So I stayed in your shadows, never sure if you even noticed me hanging out with you guys, let alone if you cared about me. I was always just there. Felix wanted to reach through the paper and slap Tristan across the face. He wanted to shake him and scream at him. Tell him how much he'd really meant to him, how much he'd appreciated his company. How much he'd actually cared about Tristan. An image of Tristan popped into Felix's head. His ratty black hair. Brown eyes sunken into his gaunt face. At first, Tristan had been a really happy guy, at least when he was around Felix and the others. Now that Felix thought about it, the only time Tristan had seemed even remotely happy was when he was around Felix and the others. At the time nothing had seemed wrong, but looking back, Tristan had always seemed a bit off, a little sad when he wasn't with the group. Constantly hiding his face in his dark hoodie. It seemed so obvious something was wrong now. He continued reading. So, I lived in your shadows. People called me 'popular' because I hung out with you guys. I never really felt that way. Nobody came up and complimented me like they did to you. No one ever showed their appreciation for the things I did. No one said thank you when I refilled their drinks, or when I would drive them someplace. Now that Felix thought about it, he realized how little he'd actually expressed his gratitude for Tristan. That guy had done practically everything for him, Halia, and Henry. He would drive them everywhere, and get them anything they wanted. But they never told him that they appreciated it. "Thank you," Felix whispered. Tears started to gather in his eyes. Only a little bit of the letter left. So, I want you all to learn a lesson from my death. But first, please understand this, you three are not the sole cause of my death. I simply wanted to teach you a lesson, maybe help you become better from my death. There were many more factors, many more people who helped lead to my decision to take my own life. Don't blame yourselves. To put it simply, life made me feel unappreciated, unloved, so I unlived. All I ask is this: learn from your mistakes. Be kinder to others. Serve people wherever you can. And above all, show your appreciation. Tell others thank you for the things they do for you. And maybe do things for them in turn. Until we meet again in the next world, know I love you all. Love - Tristan, you're loyal friend, even across the grave. Felix stepped back, feeling released from the hold the note held on him. Tears formed in his eyes as he thought about poor, unappreciated Tristan. He grew sweaty, and his chin began to quiver. He replayed the letter over and over again in his mind. His chest grew tight, and he started to itch nervously. All three friends were silent for a moment. A billion questions ran through Felix's head. Why hadn't he ever shown his appreciation to Tristan? Why would Tristan go to this extreme? Had he really failed him so badly as a friend? What more could he have done? Could he have prevented Tristan's suicide? "I can't believe this," Halia said. "I feel so bad. Like I should have done more." "We should have actually told him how much we appreciated him," Henry said quietly. "I want to make a promise with you two, a pact," Felix said, tears starting to stream down his face. "We'll all do our best to actually tell people how much we appreciate them. For Tristan." "For Tristan." the other two agreed. The three of them walked back to their cars. As Felix sat down, he completely broke down. Tears flew out of his eyes, and his heart felt shattered into a billion tiny shards. He wished he could travel back in time and tell Tristan how much he'd meant to him. Only one thought came to his mind. I will always appreciate people from now on. Because I don't want anyone to ever feel unappreciated, unloved, unlived. A Note From The AuthorI hope this story has affected you in a powerful way. There is a reason I ask no money for this story, because I want it to be an agent of change. I make the humble request of you, the reader. Please, share this deep story with those you care about. In addition, please show some verbal appreciation to those in your life, even for the small things. I hope that by showing our appreciation to others, we can help prevent people from committing suicide because they don't feel appreciated. This is the first in what I plan on make a three part short story, and I hope you will stay tuned for the next two parts in the coming weeks. Without further ado, I hope you have enjoyed, and keep on writing.
IntroductionHello all you beautiful people! I recently got back from a week long school camp out, during which, we did a decent amount of meditation. And I just fell in love with it! It made me feel so peaceful, and helped me focus so much. So, today I want to share with you the power of meditation, a few different techniques, and a few of the scientifically proven benefits of meditation. What Is Meditation?First, before we talk about more particulars, we should know what exactly meditation is. According to the dictionary meditation is to "think deeply or focus one's mind for a period of time, in silence or with the aid of chanting, for religious or spiritual purposes or as a method of relaxation." So, to put it basically, it is focusing on something and kind of cutting out the rest of the world. So lets talk about some of the different meditations you can do! A Few Different MeditationsNow obviously I can't just list every single type of meditation here, but I will list a few I recommend you try. I would highly recommend you look up more types of meditation for your own situation.
A Few Benefits of MeditationNow we will go over just a few of the medical benefits of meditation. I would highly recommend you look into further benefits on your own, because I won't go into too much detail here.
To EndTo end off, I would just like to encourage you to go and try one or two meditations. If you find you like it, look into more forms of meditation. If you want to know all of the benefits of meditation, I would highly recommend looking up some articles on the topic. So, have a good time meditating, and keep on writing!
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Welcome to The Writers Block!AuthorKen Mears is a new 17 year old author, here to share his wisdom, advice, and experiences with you, the reader! Archives
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