Week 22: A story written from the perspective of someone dead/undead.
I no longer have a face.
I have no voice. I have no place in the world. I belong to another land, another realm. I have nothing. I am nothing and yet, I am everything. I have lost my will to live. But do you know what I do have?
I have my soul, my heart, my power. I have my freewill, I have my magic. I have what I wish, I have my freedom. It is warm here, the golden sunlight kisses my skin and the wind embraces me. The green leaves I touch spring to life, I may not have a voice but my songs drift in the winds.
I am a force, a shadow that grows forevermore, but I am not darkness. I am light, a spirit that lights the dark depths of this world. I am the kiss of life. I am the touch of sleep. I am here for you. I am always here for you. This place is my home, as much as it is yours.
I may have more than one home, more than one world, more than one land. But I do not claim one as entirely my own. I am a mess of contradictions. I do not make sense.
I am unfair.
I am just.
I am harsh.
I am merciful.
I am feared.
I am loved.
I am hated.
Who am I?