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I have been writing a story about an unlikely friendship, which ultimately leads to tragedy. I have been experimenting with different ways to present the story. This following extract is one of the many versions I have written. This version is inspired by The Book Thief – Markus Zusak, in which death narrates the story.

An Apple, Yet Not of My Eye

With menacing glee I am compelled to tell you about a friendship, of which I played both catalyst and dissipator. You see, it was I who bought these two unlikely individuals together and to my annoyance they enjoyed a pleasant camaraderie. They held a common bond that I had not anticipated. Therefore according to my natural tendency to cause disarray I shattered and scattered the two like fragmented glass.

Who am I, you might ask.

Well in terms of a physical being, I do not exist.

I am nothing but still something.

Yet always have been.

I am akin to energy.

Never created, never destroyed.

Just here.

Always have been here.

I can be powerful and wonderfully dangerous. It depends on how one contrives me within their mind.

I can also be made weak.

Very weak.

Some can easily discard me.

I find this an annoyance but to my greater virtue there are some that dwell on my presence. Hence manifesting me into a big hindrance in their lives. That’s when my endeavours are gloriously achieved.

That’s how it is.

That’s how I exist.

It’s thoroughly fascinating to observe how people misinterpret me for a variety of emotional states. I must place emphasis on the fact that I am never in company with happiness, joy or fulfilment.

We are immiscible, like water and oil.

So you can rightly assume where there is discontentment and dissatisfaction I will be present. I thrive heartily in this environment.

It’s not my fault.

That is just the way it is for me.

I realize I sound buoyant depicting my line of duty but I have earned the right to be.

I work hard, prospering on diminishing mortals.

I exist on a road in London where there are so many secrets amongst residents that I am king here.

An absolute master at my craft.

I have plenty of work to do on this particular cul-de-sac or as I like to call it ‘dead-end’ street. The people with the ability to attract disorder seem to reside here, almost conventional.

Near me.

Keeping me happily busy.

There was this one girl who could strongly feel my presence.

She knew I was real.

She felt me.

She fought me mentally.


And I might add, constantly.

I admired her gumption. She had more backbone than grown men who would break down in tears. Then, I grew increasingly tired of her. And had to follow through with my given purpose …

Can you guess which emotional state narrates this story? I attempted to use BOREDOM

Please leave comments to let me if this narrative voice works, is it believable or any other tips or suggestions etc that may help me to improve the telling of this story. Thank you in advance.

The image taken from: http://vampires.wikia.com/wiki/Vampire_lovers