Joke

Nature has a way of being cruel. Every now and then freakish manifestations are created, bringing with them ill tidings. No one knows why these things happen. Perhaps they are an experiment gone awry. Perhaps they are a means of punishment for others.

Whatever the reason, they should not be allowed to live. Nature has created a Frankenstein of a creature; they are seen as an abomination. There is no way to justify their existence.

Yet they survive. They walk, breathe, and eat. They live. But on so many occasions they wonder why. Perhaps it was pity that kept them alive. When they suffer so, they themselves find that they wish for death. For death is their freedom from the burden that is their horrible, twisted lives.

They are just a sick joke of Nature.


SORROW

It's been almost a year since I found out, found out the terrible secrets that have been so carefully kept from me. It's haunted me ever since, adding to thoughts, images, problems I already have. But, in many ways, answered questions. Oh I had so many of them, I still do.

My powers are unique to those who are normal. My mother's people, witches and wizards, shun me for what I am, even thought they do not know what I am. The magic in my mother's blood controls the powers I inherited from my father. That is to say, my father's magic is suppressed and not as strong, but holds its own deadliness when intermingled with my sorcery.

I guess I first noticed I was different when I was fairly young. I went out the park with my muggle guardians. There were so many children; they were doing something I could not understand. They were smiling, laughing. The air was alive with the ringing of their voices. It was like a song. A song I couldn't sing to. It was strange. As I got close to them their smiles faded, the laughter disappeared and was replaced by the shrill of crying. I saw visions, memories. Memories that were not mine.

The mothers were visibly shaken also, taking their child in arms. The sky went black, the grass snapped under my feet as it turned to ice. I knew then and there I was not normal by any standards.

I met my mother a year ago or so, surrounded by the endless gloom that seemed to have attached itself to me. That's when I learned I was a witch. I learned half of what I was. It helped answer a few questions, but not the ones I wanted answered. I'm still searching for the answer to one.

I will never get the answer, I know that now. My mother told me why. It was the answer to so many questions.

It helped a lot when she told me. I learned to control my other power and manipulate it in a new and terrible way. I can will the sadness of others, unearth their most horrid memories. I can even transfer memories of others to someone. This came at a price. My mother.

Soon after she told who my father was, she was killed, right in front of me. It's a memory I call my own, for no one could have remained sane after watching her die like that. It's still fresh in my mind. Her screams still echo in my head, drowning out the hundreds of other screams the never cease. Drowning out the cries and wails of fear, loss, grief and pure sadness.

I don't deny who I am, but I do envy others. It amazes me how I can exist, how I was ever allowed to exist. My fate is terrible; I would not wish it upon anyone.

I will never know joy or love, or any other feelings dubbed 'wonderful'. I know only sadness. I am sadness. I am Sorrow.