Samara
I have visions.
Sometimes, they're terrible, cruel, unspeakable evils. Sometimes, they're acts of beautiful, wondrous kindness. I never know which one I'm going to get, but now... Well, I'd say I'm perfectly accustomed to receiving them. I know that's not a normal thing to say, but I've grown use to the thought that I am anything but normal.
Normal people don't wake up in a sweat after seeing horrible creatures attack innocent people. Normal people don't stare at a person's face and see beasts or beauties. Normal people don't have powers. But for as long as I can recall, I've been this way.
It used to be that I just got visions. And they terrified me. But each year I grew, my powers did the same. Before I knew it, I was able to do incredible things. I can move an object just by thinking of it. I can get a person to do just about anything I want to with a smile. I can conjure green fire in my hands, and make plants grow with a single touch. I'm sure I could do more if I tried, but... why should I?
At twenty-three, I'd say I'm freakish enough, wouldn't you? But I have to believe there is a reason for this: why I am the way I am. If there isn't one... well... it would just make my existence sad—purposeless even.
But this last vision has given me a bit of hope. It keeps recurring. Showing me the same thing over and over—even while I'm awake. This vision is potent. I'd go so far as to say dangerous. I can barely function when I have it, and on some level, I think it's telling me to find him.
In my vision, I see a man. A most handsome one, I must admit. He's sculpted to perfection. Tall and muscular with keen amber eyes. He always looks like he's in pain or angry. His mouth perpetually in a frown. His brow furrowed in distaste. I wonder what makes him look like that.
Why is he always dissatisfied?
Each day, this vision gets stronger. They do that sometimes: prompt me to find a person or place. To intervene. I can't help but to do it. It helps to relieve the pounding headaches the visions sometimes cause. But none have been worse than this.
Where to begin though? I guess, I'll have to wait... for just one more glimpse of my fuming stranger.
ESTÁ A LER
The Last Goddess
FantasyIt all started with a vision. A vision of a fuming stranger being tortured by a man with hard gray eyes. Samara doesn't know who either of these men are, but after repeated visions that make her head throb, she decides she must help that stranger. N...
