The Uprising

You know life is really messed up. And I mean really bad. I could start anywhere in my miserable life to prove my point, but I'll just say this:

I never wanted to be the Sage.

Being the sage is hard, cruel and emotionally depressing. What's worse is that in most cases you could be killed in brutal and horrible ways unfathomable to the mind.

So, if you're the kind of person with little mental fortitude my advice to you is: Stop, Drop and Run. Because it is going to be one scary hell of a ride.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Z. When most people hear that they usually ask, "Is that short for something?" Before I can reply they start listing out names that start with Z: "Zack? Zuni? Zane? Zulu? Zincky? Zion? I know, Zebra!" At that point, depending on who I'm talking too, I usually just walk away. I am about 6'4 and I'm 16. Due to the black specs I have on, people usually ask me if I'm blind. Well, you can say that because ever since I turned 4, my eyes have never been opened, literally. I know it sounds pretty far-fetched. However, I do see. It's actually weird to me because, as far as I know, when you close your eyes, you're not supposed to see a thing. My vision is just like anybody else's — at least, I think. I decided to keep my abnormality to myself and not tell anyone. Some things are just better kept secret. I live in upstate New York with my only acquaintance and family, Amy.

I reside in upstate New York with Amy, my cousin and only family. She's the epitome of a California girl—tanned, blonde, and has a smile that can light up the darkest void. Amy had also lost her parents who had gone on an ocean voyage to the Caribbean for some kind of research purpose, leaving their 11-year-old girl at home to fend for herself. Eventually, rent and other bills forced her out of her house and she was forced into the streets, thus in order to survive, she worked odd jobs. Fortunately, she met a wealthy benefactor who took her under his wing and sponsored her through school.

On a certain day – A fateful day, if you ask me– She (Amy) wondered past an Alleyway where she saw a 4-year-old boy sitting by a dumpster, shivering from cold, his eyes were unable to open due to some kind of birth complication. She picked him and read the name on his tattered shirt tag: 'Z'

As I grew up, I called her Amy (Not Mother or Aunt) and I mentally assumed her to be my distant cousin. Amy provided the funds and cooked. Being 'blind', Amy decided to home school me, and I learned to read using touch, which isn't very hard when you can actually see. Once, I asked Amy what she actually does for a living. She looked away and said, 'I'm a lot of things Z', then she smiled liked that cleared things up. So, she obviously had her own secrets, so what? I had mine.

Sometimes Amy worked night jobs and other times she worked during the day. As soon as she leaves, I go on her laptop which has no password and watch movies, anime, the likes or played games while listening to British rap or drills with her ear pods.

You see life was nice for me. From all that has been said, I lacked nothing and needed nothing. I had no friends at all – unless you want to include the annoying 2nd floor Lady's daughter – who by the way is a four-year-old – but I read a lot about the painful experiences of the distrust and betrayal of acquaintances. It does not sound pleasing. Anyways, I could have continued my perfect life safe from the antagonizing and aggravating problems of a floating fortress and fallen Angels and a vicious Man-eaters. Unfortunately, I was thrust on a life-changing encounter which began on a dull, cold wintery morning – One I would never forget as long as I live.