- yeet i cant anymore. coding is being difficult, i lost all of the mini-stories that i was gonna put, its too exhausting. i love this kiamara but no ;u; good luck to everyone who entered if you want to count what i wrote in, ill unstrike it but other than that, im out.
"w-who is there?" a frightened voice stuttered, clearly showing how frightened the little five-year-old kiamara was. the young boy kept his back against the right wall of the alleyway, unsure weather to run or stay and fight whatever or whoever was lurking behind the debris and trash cans. the young boy's mother and father had got in a fight once again, yelling and screaming at each other, and he just couldn't take it anymore—so he ran. "im warning you, i-I know karate!" the black-eyed kiamara spoke up, and seconds later there was a loud clacking noise. it took the young one a few moments to realize that in fact, it was a laugh. someone was laughing at him. frowning, he slowly walked over to the trash can, only to bump into the large creature. "now, now young one. i may be an old hag, but I can still beat you up pretty bad if I wanted to. "the other replied as the boy stepped back out of the shadows and into the light, trying to get a better look at the person he was talking to. "who are you? why are you here? "he asked, flicking his left ear as he tilted his head slightly, like a young puppy. "i should be asking you these questions, dear. a child like you shouldn't be in the slums." the mysterious person finally stepped forward, and sat down. his eyes widened a bit as he realized that he was talking to a dog—a sloughi, to be specific. "my name is ruth. I was taking a nap here when you suddenly showed up. what is your name, boy?" she answered his questions before asking her own, and the kiamara flicked his tail and sat up straight. "my name is mordecai, and im five years old." he replied, seeming to be very proud of his name and age. "now, mordecai. why are you here?" ruth questioned, eyes slightly narrowing, which slightly shook the young kiamara. "im...well...my parents were fighting again—and I just can't take it. I needed to escape, to get away. I just didn't know how to so I ran away and ended up here." mordecai responded, trying not to cry, but the boy was already on the verge of letting the tears building up in the corner of his eyes pour down his fluffy cheeks. ruth sighted in sympathy, and pulled the young boy close to her chest, embracing him tightly. "its okay, young one." she whispered, but then about a minute later let out a small chuckle. "i knew there was something different about you when I looked at your eyes—they are pitch black. not just your pupil, but your iris and sclera are all black." ruth pointed out, and mordecai used his right paw to wipe away his tears before asking, what is so special about me? or my eyes? they are just black—lots of people's eyes are black. the sloughi released the kiamara and stood up on all fours. "yes, but not the eye entirely. that is special. you are something special. but special comes at a price, my dear." mordecai let out an annoyed grunt, "i don't understand what you are saying, ruth." he replied before also standing up. "no worries, you will within time. but now, you should go back home. it's getting terribly late and I'm sure your parents are worried, regardless of their bickering. but before you go, please take this." the dog turned around and grabbed something from behind the trash cans—where she claimed to be sleeping—and handed him a old brown book. "i want you to take this, and write in it. it can be anything—a story, poem, memories, anything at all. but the twist is that you have to write about important things that impacted your life greatly, and you only get to write on six pages, front and back. If you look at the first fourty-two pages, you'll see other people's writings. don't open it until you get home, and make sure that any loose pages won't fall out. you can do that for me, right?" ruth said, and looked around, seeing a few flashlights flickering nearby. "o-okay. but why? when am I going to give it back to you?" mordecai replied, unsure what this was all about and trying to take everything all at once. "it doesn't matter. don't worry about giving the book back to me keep it as long as you need to. heck, you can have it for ten years even. now, hurry and go! I don't have much time. please take good care of the book for me." ruth yanked her head to the side as she heard a few loud voices, a yell, then a banging noise. "w-what do you mean you don't have much time? what's going on? ruth!" mordecai yelled, and ruth shot a glare at him, which made the kiamara flinch. "hush, child! nothing that you should get involved with. now hurry up and leave! I can't let them hurt or take you. go, now!" the dog fiercely whispered at him, and he nodded, but did not leave, being stubborn as usual. "hey, boss! I think she's over here!" a deep voice from the end of the alleyway said, and ruth stood in front of mordecai. "i promise I'll see you again, now go!" she gritted her teeth and flicked the end of her tail in his eyes, making him yelp. whoever was at the end of the alleyway must have heard, because their footsteps were getting louder and closer. mordecai blinked, recovering his eyesight and started to run the other way—taking one last glance before running down the block, taking the route he took to get there to go back home.
After explaining to his parents where he was, why he was there, and if he was okay, mordecai closed himself up in his room, climbed into bed, and opened the book. It was old, some of the pages were burned, some had tears and stains—making it quite obvious that this book has been in the hands of careless people. It didn't really matter to him. He opened the first page, and started reading. Once he had put that book in between his hands, it wouldn't be leaving his side for more than a decade.
After explaining to his parents where he was, why he was there, and if he was okay, mordecai closed himself up in his room, climbed into bed, and opened the book. It was old, some of the pages were burned, some had tears and stains—making it quite obvious that this book has been in the hands of careless people. It didn't really matter to him. He opened the first page, and started reading. Once he had put that book in between his hands, it wouldn't be leaving his side for more than a decade.
first: my eyes
second: sexuality
third: bullies and friends
fourth: conclusion
fifth: my future, my dream
sixth: goodbye
second: sexuality
third: bullies and friends
fourth: conclusion
fifth: my future, my dream
sixth: goodbye
text text text text text text text text text text text text
i dont want to feel like this anymore
hhhhhhhhhhh
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