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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/1190165-Incinerate
Rated: 13+ · Campfire Creative · Fiction · Spiritual · #1190165
Christiana longs to be alive.
[Introduction]
Christiana is no ordinary girl. She is Marked and practically cursed for life. Born prematurely, her and other ‘misfits’ of the spirit realm are destined to live a human’s life—without being human. When a child dies before it lives, they become unable to wander the DeathRealm, and yet unable to live in the HumanRealm.
Christiana can’t accept this. She longs to be normal, and wishes that she had had the opportunity to live a human life. She cuts to feel the pain she can’t feel, and she can’t feel true happiness. The gate between the human realm and the ‘unfortunate’s realm is broken momentarily and Christiana and her friends Todd and Aria manage to get inside ending up within a young teenage boy’s home.
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-Incinerate-

He acted like he hadn’t heard me, staring at me with those intense sapphire eyes, shuffling in his seat with a severe look on his round face. Gazing back at him, I too shifted my position and stared quietly out of the window overlooking the courtyard. The stranger sighed deeply and sat upright, straightening his crooked glasses.

“Ms…” He looked down at the pink slip I had handed him earlier. Obviously confused, he resorted to my first name. “Christiana, believe it or not but we only try and help you.”

I glanced down at my wrist, numerous scars still there from the previous night. “Help me? No.”

“Excuse me?” He looked up from paperwork.


“If you want to help then get me out of this hellhole.”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and let out a groan. “Christiana sweetheart, I’m afraid I cannot carry out that request.”


“And why not?” I knew the response and exasperatedly. Several people had told me already.
“You’re marked… deceased.”

I nodded leisurely. “And? Can’t you just…” I stopped, wondering why I was so obsessed with living. I was marked for life—death, and that wouldn’t change. I knew that. It was something I had been born with. Many people had been. When a child dies before it lives—a premature birth usually, then they’re marked. No, they’re cursed. Required to exist as if they’re typical—when they know that they aren’t.

“I’ve lived in this illusion long enough,” I began, already tired of arguing with him. “If I’m dead, then why do you all insist on living in this reality? There’s nothing I can do here. I can’t eat because I’m never hungry, I can’t cry…no matter how awful it hurts…I can’t experience physical pain and yet I’m compelled to restrain my emotions constantly…”

He stood up from his chair, motioning for me to stand as well and whispered, “We do the best we can Ms. Christiana. This realm was made especially for spirits like you.”

“Those who don’t belong…” I muttered darkly, my brunette bangs hiding my cloudy jade tinted eyes. With that, he vanished and I was once again in my lone chamber—wishing that something had changed, hoping that it would, and listening to the I and the stranger’s conversation rewind in my head thousands of times as if a broken record until lying down to think in my soft bed and slipping into a soundless sleep.
Chapter One


The next hour I woke up unhurriedly, lying in bed for a minute and staring at the black ceiling. I yawned and laid on my side, flipping my television on to watch crappy spirit shows. They were all about the same things. Horrors were about humans discovering our realm and tainting it forever. Comedies were usually about the Almighty deciding to take a break off of work—or something stupid like that. A drama was two lovers torn apart when one or the other dies in an accident and becomes their loves Guardian Angel.
I frequently dreamed of what if might be like to become a Guardian Angel. I had heard countless good things about it. People usually became reacquainted with their cherished ones. Some even got another chance to be alive. But then again, I had never been alive. Also, I had no loved ones praying for me to come home to them.
I was a rebel. A loner. I was the unhappiest out of everyone in my ward. We were the misfits, and yet, I felt entirely alone in all of it. There were people like me; I just had no desire to connect with them. I wouldn’t settle for less then I wanted and I wanted to have an opportunity to live. Even for just a moment, I wanted to feel pain, sadness…along with that I wanted to experience happiness and possibly romance.
Standing up, I walked towards the mirror in my room, glancing at my pale reflection. I sat down and started to brush my shoulder length hair gently, my side bangs covering my eyes. My mistress, the head of the ‘unfortunates’ realm, had scolded at me. She told me that if I didn’t dress ‘prettily’, she’d have my hair cut off and make me dress in rags. Not to give you the incorrect impression! Mallory was a very kind woman in general. She was only very proper and well mannered.

{Whoever continues should probably introduce a new character here =D happy camping}


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/1190165-Incinerate