Summer Camp

Look, if you are
here to criticize, or your just looking for a good 'story,' (or whatever my
life is to you) if you don't think this story- my life- is real, so help me
God… You cant believe how many times I have gotten told that 'oh, that’s bull,'
or, my favorite, 'The Hell is wrong with you?' So go ahead. Read my story. But
be warned; The reason why you are so afraid, so naturally afraid of the dark,
that reason is real. And that fear gives me life. Now that I am officially dead
in all sense of the word, call this my 'looking back' on my life.  At least I found some paper to write on, its
not as easy writing words down when your dead. My hands are twitching too much
from the battle reflexes… Well, there goes my well-thought-out philosophical
speech about life's precious gift and why I didn’t get that gift; which I'm
still trying to figure out.

 

A bit of things to
know about me before we delve into the havoc that is Anden Actulo; Firstly, I
kill people. I was never good with them… I call it 'emotionally challenged.'
Probably helps to note my hatred of all things affectionate… But still, I was
raised in a shack, miles away from any form of orderly civilization. My whole
life, or whatever you want to call 'living' for me, has been a war between
ultimate (and a bit unorthodox for most people) good, and ultimate,
manipulative evil. I should start from the beginning, bear with me here.

 

I was born
surprisingly naturally. The only difference in my medieval time, was that I
wasn’t breathing. Nevertheless, I was abundantly healthy and overwhelmingly
strong. Something about exuberant amounts of magical essence inside of three
month old baby scared the elder of the village so much he had a heart attack
whilst running from the room.

 

Growing up I was a
joy. Always so thoughtful and quiet. But in all seriousness, my father had to
rebuild the shack we lived in three times from fires caused by my
uncontrollable ass. My time with my parents was short, and shortly after my
eighth birthday, guards ransacked my village for what may have been the last of
an ancient race. I only knew how they died until many years later, by the most
unexpected person. My parents risked their lives to hide me. There I stayed for
three days, not a sound of my tears wetting the floor. You can probably infer
that I never saw them again- alive. The rest of my life was spent in various
rat holes, street corners, and abandoned stone buildings for a few years. Then
came my mentor, but soon enough I was back on the streets and into an orphan
house. From there, I fought my guardian over everything, especially school. A
year after I arrived, I was forced into it, on the grounds that if I didn’t,
they would throw me into prison. Hell, they already had my old cell dusted and
polished, waiting for me by the time I ran off…

 

But I'm getting
ahead of myself.

 

I do everything upon
my own free will, and share myself with no other soul. I have my own room,
though at one point I did have a roommate… its too bad he can't fly or he would
have sailed gracefully through that window I threw him out of. He couldn't believe
that I didn't appreciate the same jokes day in and day out; snakes in the
bathroom, a jelly filled pillow, spikes in my bed sheets and the floor. I only
attended school, starting that year, on behalf of my guardian, a very wealthy
banker and orphanage manager by the name of Benjamin Stone. Having clashed with
him since I arrived at his orphanage a year ago, I slightly despised him and
his morals. He was a peculiar fellow, who was teasingly named 'bear' because of
his love for children and his warm, comforting personality. He had light brown
hair that always seemed to stay neat, a light 5 o clock shadow and young green
eyes.  Bear had taken over his family's
bank at the age of twenty, when his father unexpectedly died of heart failure.
At the time, he had just married a wonderful woman, Natalia, who was expecting
his child  in a few months.

 

Under his guidance
the company tripled in size, as the king himself chose it as one of his many
banks to store his vast fortune. But sadly, his wife died in child birth, and
his broken heart put everything into his baby girl, and his whole life became
centered on her. The bank grew renowned because of the king's trust in the
bank, and the bank grew incredibly over the next five years. Five more years
later, bear took his wealth and built a mansion with Jayca, his daughter, and
adopted a few abandoned children to fill his grand house. From there it
developed into what it is today, three years after the mansion was built, as a
haven for orphans.

 

I was thrown into
their lives, literally. By armed guards. Happily, I take credit for creating a
living hell amongst my piers. I must admit that there were more comfortable
accommodations living under Bear's roof than my jail cell twelve feet
underground, shackles tied to my arms and legs and iron moldings over my mouth
and fingers.

With this in mind, I
can say that I wasn’t the most behaved kid.

 

Still interested?
Maybe just persistent.  Well then, either
way, lets start with summer camp.

 

I came to be
enrolled into the institution I so colorfully decorated with blood from one
summer camp, in which the brightest and strongest elite of every school comes
together to hone magical resilience. I often went to these camps to train,
having no other form of outlet for the stored energy that overflowed from my
veins.

 

There was one camp,
however, that the instances that happened there made me stand out a bit farther
than the rest. Now, in these camps, there is always danger. During sparring
groups choose to use either fake or real weapons, and often times campers are killed.
Depending on the cause of death, and either purposefully or by accident, one is
judged. Never has anyone received death sentence. Well, until I came along.

 

Now, I always
entered the camps with a fake name, and to enforce that name would  I would pay someone to act as my father or
uncle or something, so getting enrolled wasn't the problem. The reason as to
why I did this is that upon entering a winter camp the first year I arrived at
the orphanage, I was chased out of the camp for lighting the main pavilion on
fire. And the sleeping quarters. And the forest. Bear had to pull an abhorrent
amount of strings to ensure I went by freely. Ever since, he has disapproved of
me enrolling, and marvels as to how I have not been in trouble at these camps.
Or so he thought. I was chased, hunted, and attacked while I slept. I was
almost never safe within three days of the month long camps. I have lasted
through three to my knowledge, due to the face that they could never prove I
had done it. But there are a hundred camps with age ranges from twelve to
eighteen, so I figured id be doing them for awhile.

 

This particular camp
happened to be hosting a group of special guests hosted by the capital's most
trusted, and rich, institution.

The End

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