Untold Memories
This story has pretty much nothing to do with beyblade as a sport. That and I don't own beyblade.
As most people know, many stories have a beginning, middle, and an end. But what some don't realize is that written stories tend to only be a middle. To tell a story from beginning to end, you must cover all details from birth to death. And even then the story might not be done.
Since I can't tell you the whole story, a slice of the middle will have to suffice. That and I don't know the entire story. This tale isn't about me, or my friends, or my family. Nope. It's about a complete and total stranger who I met and learned about by chance.
So, this isn't my story, but one that can only be told by me. Only I have the guts to tell people I don't even know about him. The story sad, the pain great. But even so, his memory doesn't deserve to disappear. Even if he is never again seen in this town, people should at least be able to speak of him, not in fear, but in respect.
I was most likely the only one to speak to him in years. He was not the monster everyone thought him to be. No, he was kind and gentle, if you could get past his defenses.
If you are ready and willing to listen to his story, please continue on. He should not be remembered as a monster, but as a man. Please help me respect his memory, it should never be forgotten.