Drake: the tortured mind
The man sitting in the dark alleyway is no one. He has no name or past. His eyes are bleak with pain and his hair is grey at the tips though he is in his early 20s, but no one could be sure. He knows he was once the happy young man in the photo he is holding. The photo shows a group of friends, some stood holding surfboards, others lay on the sand under the dazzling sun. He was one of the surfers, his long blonde hair shinning. He sighed and folded the picture with care and replaces it in his trouser pocket. He thought back as far as he could, pushing his torturtred mind to its limit. The furthest back he could remember was when they awakened him after whatever it was they had done to him. He had always been different, that is why they had taken him. He had a unique ability to breathe under water. When they had learned about this, he was snatched from his perfect life of surfing sun and marine biology. He was destroyed and re-made. When he had awakened in a drowsy state he heard voices talking about molecules, shifting to water and phasing to human flesh once more. At the time it meant nothing, as the only thing that he thought of was to escape the harnesses and wires that restrained him from freedom. Armed guards tried to stop him but his new powers overdid his mind. He killed many in a blind pain-filled fury and fled. He rested his weary head on the wall behind him. He was dangerous to himself as well as others, he knew that. He still knows it. A police siren wailed out in the night air, lights flooded the streets, looking, searching for him. So he slunk into the dark shadows as the wailing continued.
The man sitting in the dark alleyway is no one. He has no name or past. His eyes are bleak with pain and his hair is grey at the tips though he is in his early 20s, but no one could be sure. He knows he was once the happy young man in the photo he is holding. The photo shows a group of friends, some stood holding surfboards, others lay on the sand under the dazzling sun. He was one of the surfers, his long blonde hair shinning. He sighed and folded the picture with care and replaces it in his trouser pocket. He thought back as far as he could, pushing his torturtred mind to its limit. The furthest back he could remember was when they awakened him after whatever it was they had done to him. He had always been different, that is why they had taken him. He had a unique ability to breathe under water. When they had learned about this, he was snatched from his perfect life of surfing sun and marine biology. He was destroyed and re-made. When he had awakened in a drowsy state he heard voices talking about molecules, shifting to water and phasing to human flesh once more. At the time it meant nothing, as the only thing that he thought of was to escape the harnesses and wires that restrained him from freedom. Armed guards tried to stop him but his new powers overdid his mind. He killed many in a blind pain-filled fury and fled. He rested his weary head on the wall behind him. He was dangerous to himself as well as others, he knew that. He still knows it. A police siren wailed out in the night air, lights flooded the streets, looking, searching for him. So he slunk into the dark shadows as the wailing continued.