Okay so I started a story and I want to know what you guys think. Tell me how you like it. If you guys like it I'll continue it. If not then it goes down.
Omara Farswell sat in his apartment playing on his computer. He nodded along to the music that blasted out of his computer. Happily he stood up and started to a little dance as he went to go make his dinner. Grabbing a bag of ramen from the cabinet he set the water in a pot to a boil.
Omara was living in a New York apartment in the center of the city. He was 17 years old and lived by himself. Unfortunately he had no girlfriend. That made his life very lonely in a way. That never made a difference in my life thought has it? He thought to himself. His parents had died at age 13. The orphanage would have never worked for him so he decided to run. Five years later after a long process of getting into school and working every night he got a job as an assistant to a major boss at Nike.
Somebody knocked at the door. “Coming” he called. Omara ran towards the door. As he walked toward the door he looked at the clock. It was 11 at night. Who would really come at this time of night? He opened the door and on the floor was a package. It was kind of funny because the mail didn’t come this late in the night. He picked it up and closed the door.
Curious he brought the package up onto a table. It was plain and brown and about the size of a shoe box. There was no return address. Omara’s name and apartment was the only thing written on top. He opened the box which contained another box but this time it was made of crystal. Surprised he took out the crystal box. The box shined like almost as bright as the sun to me. He wondered what kind of man sends his objects in a crystal box.
Hesitantly he opened the crystal box. Inside was an envelope on a velvet cushion, as if the envelope was the was made of gold. He was about to take the letter out when he heard the fire alarm go off. “Oops,” he whispered to himself as he went to the boiling the water that was smoking. He put in his ramen to let it simmer. Nervously he watched the pot until it was done as not to burn down his own apartment building.
Omara put the bowl of ramen on the table and reached for the crystal box. Timidly he opened the box again and took out the letter. This letter had a wax sign holding the letter closed. It had a sign that almost looked like a tear drop, though the wax seal was red. Taking a knife he opened the letter slitting the wax. As soon as he opened it a warm feeling caressed over him that he had not felt before. He took out the letter inside surprised to find blank paper.
All of a sudden ink appeared on the paper as if he was writing on it himself. The writing was foreign to him as it typed itself down the paper towards his hand. He let go in fear and backed away. This ink then rose in the air and stroke it self towards Omara who coward in fear from the moving ink. Omara then felt a pain that almost felt like his veins being burned away. A wound in which the ink entered his body soon turned into a scar that glowed brightly.
The pain then grew dimmer as he started to black out. As his thoughts grew muddier one thought burst through them all. What the hell was that? Then he blacked out. Most of the ink flew back to the letter and seemed to disappear as it touched the paper. This paper then folded itself and but itself back inside the envelope and sealed itself forever until Omara died.
The rest of the ink imprinted itself almost like a tattoo. It shivered and squirmed as it formed the shape of the seal then became red as blood. This tattoo then moved itself upon his wrist settling in permanently until this new ability was released.
hikuninza Community Member 
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