when i was in Lincoln High School in Brooklyn New York City. I was the Son of New York and led the Lincoln High School to win the New York State Championship 2 years in a row (2001 and 2002)
In those two years, I got Mr. Basketball of New York 2 times, and the best high school student in the United States and i also got other honors.
Even the Owner of the New York Knicks joke about that once i participated in the draft the knicks will pick me. 
*****
follow me on IG @dunknd0nut

Ric siting in his room finally relaxed, he still getting used to this new home. After leaving the very familiar house he lived for a life time, it made it a little strange for him.
But he will get use to it as he did with the fact he went trough a rebirth.
Ric and his family shifted to this new house in end of January. In-fact it is a penthouse in the upper east side of Manhattan.
From a friendly suburbs to a concrete jungle, this transformation might be weird to others but its kind of a thing for the Jackson's.
They are more inclined to live in a comfortable but luxurious place close to their work than large mansions far from workplace, in Ric's case Broadway.
In-fact in this new home Ric has two rooms made into one unit with a bad room and a reading room.
As the film <Lucas> finished at early week of march, enjoying a morning coffee sitting beside the poolside of the penthouse, while reading an article publish about himself in <New York Times> newspaper. {A/N: Narcissist much}

It says,

"Where is R.R Jackson?"
Richard Jackson a name quite familiar in every household across US. If not by this name than by Elliot, Cole or Kevin. That's right, I am talking about that Richard Jackson,
the most sensational Hollywood actor,
the youngest top grossing star of all time,
the super genius.

We got to meet this young man with the phenomenal <E.T> in 1982, then he brought us <A Christmas Story>in 1983, <The Sixth Sense> in 1984,<Home alone>and <The Gonnies> in 1985.
And he have a up coming film in may <Lucas>.
Even though he only made five movies but all of them was big hits, making him the youngest actor of all times to have five consecutive hits.
In this five years all his film grossed more than 1.7 billion in box office making him one of the top actor with highest box office gross while the  three movies that occupied top 3 positions of the top 10 movies with the highest grossing is his.
Best part he wrote screenplay most of the movie himself.
Not only that he was nominated for Oscars for two times with double nominations for Best supporting actor and best screenplay wards but also wining both times taking Best original screenplay and Best adapted screenplay home shattering many Oscar record but also made history.
We all know him as genius screenwriter or the most cutest actor right now,
But how many knows him as R.R Jackson.
It must be Shocking to know that the famous and the hottest Author right now is none other than our favorite Richard Jackson.
But its that not surprising to find another creative talent of a super genius like Richard.
 What surprising is that this talent actually brought the actor Richard to us.
Remember <E.T> the film was for which brought Richard, the Oscar of best adapted screenplay. The film was adapted from the bestseller book <E.T>at that time. Both which wrote by Richard himself.
This is where R.R Jackson became Richard Jackson.
Do you know where everything started from ?
From this very Newspaper.

Astonishing right, But its true.
In 1980, maximum Kids if not knew other papers but  definitely knew this newspaper's kids column, as short stories which publishing getting popular along with the name R.R Jackson.
That's right at the age of five he started his journey as a writer but became a author next year with his first book <My Ocean stories> released and also became the youngest bestseller author of all times by his book <Finding Nemo>.
1981 is well known for its  book frenzy event as best seller after best seller came like <My Ocean Stories 1&2>, <Finding Nemo>, <Finding Dory>, <Finding home> came one after another, what was known as the<the Ocean Series.> frenzy bringing the name R.R Jackson to house holds.
Not to Out done with 81, 
In 1982 we have seen a large number of short story collection entering market, but it was still domenated by R.R jackson with <My feather firends>, <the animal world>, <The small's world> <The Land before time> and also the famous <E.T>.
But also the end of Richards journey in the kids column.
In 1983 he brought his spy world with <spy kids> and <Spies in Digusie> and a short story collection <Car's world> also <Casper>.
And from 1984 to 1985 he brought  to us <Spy kids 2&3>,  <Jack frost>, <Rise of the Guardians>, <The Midnight Express>, <Inside Out> which showed a unique perspective how a mind can think by Richards wonderful intimation and creative skills.
This series books and best seller hits not fixed him as one of the best child book author all time but also one of the famous author of all times. 
But where did he have gone.
As of the last few months of 1985 to now, no new books were being released resulting many of us wonder, as the most active author right now, what happened.
With that in main many tired to contact with him but couldn't as he was busy with shooting of his new film.
As everyone kept wondering and urging to get the answer to the question.
A new information was given to us by Richards Agent Ari Emanuel.
The information is a note send by Richard himself and its quoted.
"Dear my Rears,
Thanks for all the love and support up until now, but with a heavy heart I have to announce that
Due to ever increasing work I have found my self in a precarious position as a author and finally what I feared happened.
I have strained my writing potential resulting in a burn out and to fix the problem waht is required time and rest.
And for the very time and rest, I am taking a break from my career as an author.
And once again I am truly sorry.
Please pray I recover soon
Yours Favorite Author,
R.R Jackson"

Its sad that one of the favorite author is stepping down  as an author but we are lucky that the same person is still giving us wonders thorough is acting.
But for how long?
Will the same reason occur with his acting career?
Is Richard Jackson going through burnout praise or 
due to harsh reality of many jobs the case?

When people about R.R Jackson the first thing comes to mind
The Living Legend....
He is a man who brought storm in the worlds entertainment...
Idol of all aspiring idols... 
Music , Film , Drama , Books not a place he left untouched
They say he is a man with Midas touch or is he ......


First time writing... Open to constructive criticism...
Hope everyone like my story....

Disclaimer : I don't own anything other than my main character. All things written is nothing more than a fiction.

E L James Grey After twenty-five years working in TV, E L James decided to pursue her childhood dream, and set out to write stories that readers would fall in love with. The result was the sensuous romance Fifty Shades of Grey and its two sequels, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, a trilogy that went on to sell more than 125 million copies worldwide in 52 languages. In 2012 E T James was named one of Barbara Walters's "Ten Most Fascinating People of the Year," one of Time magazine's "Most Influential People in the World," and Publishers Weekly's "Person of the Year." Fifty Shades of Grey stayed on the New York Times Best Seller List for 133 consecutive weeks, and in 2015 the film adaptation —on which James worked as producer —broke box-office records all over the world for Universal Pictures. E L James lives in West London with her husband, the novelist and screenwriter Niall Leonard, and their two sons. She continues to write novels while acting as producer on the upcoming movie versions of Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed.

"Last time it was Eric Tanner who was a person of interest. I find that he's dead. So why Lodge 16?" Carl asked, taking another bite. He washed it down with coffee.

"Lodge 16 is an important part of our training program for the FBI. It is also a part of the training program for the CIA. We are not ready to make that public knowledge. Therefore we are willing to forget the intrusion into the site by your employee." Josh stated, taking his own bite out of a donut. 

"Jeez! I can see why the cops love Mr. Donuts!" he salivated. 

"You ought to get Krispy Kremes up here though. They're the best."

"Yeah, but you've got to remember we've only had the Colonel's chicken up here a few years. This is the sticks, boys." Shirley added.

"So, what do you expect me to do in return for your dropping the charges against John?" Carl asked.

"We want you to convince this author to drop her investigation of the lodge." Jim said.

"Evidently you do not know Jayne Rice very well. All this will merely make her mad enough to continue on her own. I will tell you this: I will resign from the case for the dropping of the charges. That's all I can promise. I have absolutely no control over what Ms. Rice does. I would suggest you contact her yourself if you want to put pressure on her. But again, pressure doesn't work with her.

"Another thing, you perhaps do not know what information she already has concerning Eric Tanner. She knows he had a man killed in Newberry, Michigan, and she knows he was instrumental and was present in the murder of the entire Tessinari gang in New York in 1983." Carl was pleased to see the shock on the faces of Perry and Carver.

"You know this for a fact?" Jim said.

"Yes. His fingerprints were found at both scenes and Jayne managed to put it all together. That's why she wants this book. No one; not even the FBI, has that information. She smells a best seller in it. I think she's right. It will sell well."

"I'll be right back," Jim said, pulling out his cell phone and heading for the door. 

"I have to check with my boss." He speed dialed a number. 

"This is Tanner," a strong voice answered. 

"What's the story, Jim?" Tanner knew who was calling with the caller ID.

"Trouble, Eric. I think it's a big problem. This Jayne Rice knows your old man killed the guy in Newberry and also the big massacre in New York with the Tessinari gang."

"How the hell did she find that out? Nobody knows that but us!" Tanner exclaimed. 

"My dad left nothing behind in either of those operations."

"McNabb tells us Rice identified a fingerprint in both cases. She's put it together and wants to write about it."

"Well, come on back in. We'll let this John Villemure go. We need to do more planning to get this lady off our backs. We can't afford to go public at this time. We need another six months on the outside. Did McNabb buy your FBI cover again?"

"No problem there. He hasn't even called the Detroit office to check our credentials, as far as I know." Jim offered.

"No. That's right. I have nothing from them to indicate that. Andrews is covering us there, and I have Standish covering us at the CIA. We should be okay yet. I'll see you in a few hours. We have to plan our next move." Eric hung up.

Carl called Jayne after Agents Perry and Carver left the office.

"I'm going to have to stop my investigation on your behalf in this Jayne. I don't really want to, but I can't afford pressure from the Feds in my business. I could lose my license in a hurry. And I think you have enough to write your book with what you have."

I checked with the Michigan State Police, and they seem to uphold what your chief in Newberry said. They substantiated the story about their own man disappearing, but claimed it was only a story. They claim the man appeared in Alaska years later. This got them off the hook. I got the impression that the last part was only to bolster their own egos. They didn't want to admit they were bested by Lodge 16.

"It seems Lodge 16 has many members in the State Police. Some of them are pretty high up too. Also they have members in both the FBI and CIA, not to mention they have three state Senators and several state Representatives in their organization. This came from my contact in the State Police. He also confirmed the superiority of the kids of that group relative to school and university activities. He claims they score higher on entrance tests than any one group. He also said he would not be able to get us any more information on the group. They are too close to him in the State Police. Not that he is afraid they would do anything to him, but he doesn't need the pressure."

"I can certainly understand your reluctance to continue, Carl. I don't blame you a bit," Jayne told him. 

"I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble on my account. And you're right. I have plenty of information for a fictional novel right now. I'm sure I can make a best seller out of it. Thank you for your help, and please assure the FBI, if they come back, that I have dropped my investigation. Of course, you don't have to tell them I'm still going to write the book!" 

she laughed. "You got it, girl! I hope we'll see you in the spring sometime. And get to work on that book!" 

Carl hung up. Jayne was in the middle of a no limit Texas Hold 'Em poker game at the Excalibur that afternoon when her cell phone went off. She didn't recognize the number on her caller ID, but did recognize the area code. It was out of Washington D.C. OhOh! She thought. Looks like the FBI is acting quickly! She pushed away from the table. 

"Hello?" she answered warily. A female voice came from the other end. 

"Hello!" It said brightly. "Is this Jayne Rice, the author?"

Born an outcast, Drazon grew up shunned by every other dragon in his home, except for his mother and teacher. Yearning for strength enough to defend himself and find his own way in the world, Drazon is forced from his home and on the run.

Join our discord channel to discuss anything about this novel and characters art
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Art work for characters also available there

Humans, the strangest and most selfish beings.  Not only does the man harm but they destroy everything they touch and create. Nuclear weapons, wars, starvation, and the plague they all contributed to our extinction, but this isn't the typical post apocalypse story and it definitely isn't a New York Times best seller. I could go on and on telling you how man kind destroyed our world, but that is for another book, in this story we are trying to save what is left of human kind. Long ago when life on Earth was coming to an end, humans created giant capsules for humans to scape earth, out of 7.5 billion people, 3 million made it into the capsules. Those 3 million people made it to a safe planet called Gada, it was quiet for a while and humans lived in peace for many years, developed many abilities due to radiation and they started writing about life on Earth, they called those books the sacred ones. But every good thing always comes to an end, people started being greedy due to the new abilities everyone would have, some were stronger than others, so a group of people started experimenting with children so they would be stronger, some type of meta humans.
Because of that, something was awoken in Gada, a dark being and it's army, humans fought bravely but it wasn't enough, so a man named Tobias Dankworth took the ancient books, his family, and a group of people with him into the forest so they could scape from the dark one, leaving all the others to die. The only survivors were the children that were meta humans, and a group of three scientists. The children who survived would soon become the guardians of Gada.

OMG didn’t refer to Omega, but a website subordinated to YAHOO. It engaged in star and celebrity gossip, and the posts there exceeded one’s imagination.
There was a group of amateur reporters who were good at uncovering the dirty laundry of the stars. They would combine clues they found in their junk and share the information with the public regularly.
The information was always about trifle things, such as the food and shopping habits of the stars, but the public was very interested in them. 
Vivian logged into OMG and posted a picture of an escaping Qin Guan and a copy of her movie ticket.
The title of the post was the meaningful, "The secret hero of an indie film."
She described the process of meeting Qin Guan at the cinema, as well as the handsomeness of the actor in real life. She added a picture of Qin Guan from VOGUE.
Everyone was really jealous of her experience. As a senior member of OMG, she got 1,000 kudos for her post in half a day.
"The film is not in theaters in my state. Is there a DVD out yet?"
"Same question. I’m interested in watching it."
The school newspaper was already being printed. Vivian was really glad to see the replies. Although she was extremely busy, she managed to post detailed information about the film.
"Right now, the film is only in theaters in New York and Los Angeles, but you should pay attention to Netflix. There will be a DVD for rent soon."
OMG was the largest gossip forum in America. The news spread in only one day. The power of underground movies was slowly growing. However, the official critics, which Qin Guan was focused on the most, were as silent as the suburbs in the morning.
The next day, he bought "The New York Times" on his way to college. Unfortunately, he saw nothing about "Elephant" in the movie review section.
Depressed, he was planning on asking his girlfriend to comfort him. However, he realized that everyone on campus was staring at them. Cong Nianwei smiled when she saw the school newspaper on a shelf. Qin Guan’s photo took up the whole page. He was in a military uniform, holding a gun. His beauty was unparalleled!
"Cheer for Our Handsome Qin Guan: An Indie Film."
Cong Nianwei waved the paper at Qin Guan. "At least you are popular on campus."
Qin Guan's supporters decided to contribute to his box office success after reading about the news.
After class, Liu came over with her girl force. "President, we just got some funding from the Chinatown small traders. It’s a special sponsorship for you."
"A film club? What's that?"
"Why didn't you tell me about the movie? You are not loyal!" Xu finally said after restraining himself during the whole class.
"I just invited our Chinese schoolmates to watch the film in the name of the trading union. Do you know what we called this before 1949? Flattery!"
Bang! Qin Guan patted him on the back. "That’s poor Chinese of you. I’m not a Peking Opera actor!"
Xu felt wronged. "I tried my best to promote you. Everyone in Chinatown heard about the news... Hey, come back! I’m your sponsor..."
Hundreds of students from Columbia poured into the Sunshine Cinema. The ticket seller, who was used to being lazy, was now in a hurry to deal with the long queue before him.
"Two tickets for ‘Elephant’."
"Ten tickets for ‘Elephant’."
Several couples were confused by the long queue.
"What's happening? Is there a famous indie film on?"
"‘Elephant’? No idea. It must be an independent film with a limited budget. It has to be good if there’s so many people here to see it though. Shall we take a look?"
All 400 tickets were sold out soon. The long queue was not shortened though.
"What? It’s sold out for today? Tomorrow? I will be busy tomorrow. Will you add another screening?"
The manager was shocked by the crowded hall. He checked the timetable and decided to add a temporary screening.
Luckily, the long queue went into another hall. The shrewd manager called the boss to report everything to him.
"Yes, I have taken care of everyone, but there are still people coming occasionally. Yes, I’ll add two more screenings tomorrow. We have one spare theater... No problem!"
The screenings were doubled after the call. The film would be played for two weeks.
New York Box Office on the first day: 720 dollars
Los Angeles Box Office on the first day: 600 dollars
New York Box Office on the second day: 7,000 dollars
Los Angeles Box Office on the second day: over 800 dollars
The box office the next day was multiplied by 10!


Qin Guan was reborn and sent back to his final semester in High School 18 years ago. Getting a second chance at life, he works hard to turn things around and eventually become a Prince Charming. What will his life be like the second time around? What will he have to go through? How will he succeed in turning from a loser into a Prince Charming? Read this story carefully and find out!

Centuries - Fall Out Boys (Author)
And you're a cherry blossom
You're about to bloom
You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon - Fall Out Boys
Author side...
Author langsung menghembuskan napasnya lalu menatap Moonbyul sang editor yang sedang memeriksa hasil tulisannya. "Tulisan kamu di terima, tapi.. kapan bisa mulai?" Author hanya tersenyum, "saya masih banyak projek yang harus di kerjakan" Daniel mengangguk, "baiklah" Author dan Daniell langsung berjabat tangan lalu menepuk pundak Author, "selamat bergabung di Edward Lee Publisher, Author Gabriel" Author mengangguk. "Terimakasih, kalo begitu saya keluar" Author berjalan dengan tegap lalu membuka pintunya.
"Selamat" Author mengangguk dan menjabat tangan sekertaris Moonbyul, "gue bilang apa" Author hanya tertawa kecil lalu tersenyum, "hard days pay off, right?" Author mengangguk. "Gue sebenernya... gak bisa tanpa bantuan lo, Rose. Thanks, btw" Author langsung berjalan menuju lobby dan ia langsung melakukan selebrasi kecil. "Okay... take your time for now" Author kembali menggunakan kacamatanya dan berjalan menghampiri sepeda BMX yang terparkir di tempat parkir sepeda.
1 minggu kemudian...
Moonbyul langsung menaruh buku-buku yang ia beli di etalase toko buku, "lo tau itu maksudnya apa?" Author mengangguk lalu berdiri, "lo niat kerja gak sih!?" Author masih diam sambil menatap Moonbyul, "gue gak mau ngerugi, paham!?" Author mengangguk, Moonbyul langsung duduk dan mengambil air mineral yang belum di buka, "lo udah selesaikan, marah-marahnya?" Moonbyul mengangguk. "Lo kapan mau ngeluarin buku itu?" Author langsung memberikan coretan naskahnya.
"Ini masih satu minggu, gue bisa ngasih 5-8 episode doang, kalo lo mau lebih dari itu mohon maaf gue gak bisa" Moonbyul membaca naskahnya sementara Author membaca buku yang di bawa oleh Moonbyul, "gak sia-sia gue nunggu satu minggu" Moonbyul menaruh coretan naskah Author di meja lalu menghembuskan napasnya, "lo baca?" Author langsung mengangguk, "lo mending beli makan siang deh.. karena kita bakalan punya meeting list, dan... lo bilang buku ini best seller?" Moonbyul mengangguk.
"Authornya hebat, gue salut yang nyelesein novelnya dalam satu minggu dan... hebatnya dia, langsung best seller" Author mengangguk, "oke.. gue setuju orang ini hebat, yang jelas... dia punya ciri khas. Tolong pertemukan gue sama ini Author, boleh?" Author menutup bukunya dan melepaskan kacamatannya, "bisa di atur, gak ada baku hantam kan?" Author menggeleng, "yang ada kalo media ngeliput gue, bisa-bisa image kita berdua jatoh. Gue masih pinter" Author memakan Doritosnya  "terus? Kita meeting apaan?" Author menyandarkan punggungnya, "gue cuman minta pendapat lo aja" Moonbyul mengangguk, "oke kalo gitu gue yang keluar, lo mau apa? Burger King atau McD Donald's?" Author mengusap dagunya.
"Carl's Junior" Moonbyul mengangguk, "minumnya Sprite seperti biasa" Author langsung menatap bingkai foto yang ada di mejanya dan tersenyum.
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Author kini sedang berada di JW Marriot beserta sang editor, Moonbyul. "Katanya..." Author langsung menghampiri Lucas yang sedang berfoto dengan fansnya, Lucas yang menyadari kehadiran Author langsung menjabatk tangannya lalu tersenyum, "lo Author Lobak?" Author mengangguk, "salam kenal" Lucas langsung menepuk-nepuk pundak Author. Moonbyul hanya diam dan ia mengeluarkan keringat dingin karena media berada dimana-mana dan siap menghancurkan salah satu dari mereka.
"So... lo mau pesen apa? Biar gue yang bayar, anggep aja traktiran" Author hanya tertawa kecil dan menggeleng, "gak kok, gue bisa bayar sendiri" Lucas menggeleng, "waiters" sang waiters langsung menghampiri, "gold steak sirloin medium rare  tiga, wine Château de Beaucastel" Lucas menatap Author, "lo bisa minum?" Author tersenyum, "martini" Lucas menggeleng. "Diamond Martini" Author harus bisa menahan emosinya. "dessert?" Moonbyul menghembuskan napasnya lalu menggeleng.
"Kita bentar lagi ada meeting" Lucas tertawa, "yaudah.. chocolate truffle with 24K gold satu dua di bawa pulang" Moonbyul kesal dengan kelakuan Lucas, "yaudah.. jadi lo katanya mau ngomong apa?" Author memakai serbetnya, "lo cuman ngeluarin buku satu doang?" Lucas mengangguk "yang penting gue bisa dapet chaching" Author hanya tertawa kecil, dan meminum air putihnya. "Saran gue... lebih baik lo nulis lagi deh" Lucas tertawa.
"Lo itu masih penulis gratis, udahlah.. gak usah takut kalo gue bakal gak ada pemasukkan lagi" Author hanya tersenyum, "ngomong-ngomong editor lo mana?" Lucas menggaruk rambutnya, "dia sibuk 24/7 sekarang.." Author menghembuskan napasnya lalu tersenyum, "gue mau angkat telpon sebentar" Lucas langsung meninggalkan Author dan Moonbyul. "Kalo lo udah sukses? Jangan kek Lucas, gue ngerasa dia kek songong banget" Author menepuk pundak Moonbyul, "gue gak akan lupa sama lo" Moonbyul mengangguk.
"Sorry lama, soalnya ada... kendala sedikit" Author mengangguk. "Makanannya belom dateng?" Author mengendikkan bahunya, "permisi" Author menghembuskan napasnya kasar. "Well, omongan bullshit bakalan banyak nih" Author mengambil roti dan memakannya.
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2 minggu kemudian...
Moonbyul masuk lalu memberikan Author hasil dari penjualan bukunya, "penjualan buku lo, lumayan.. walaupun gak se booming punya Lucas" Author mengangguk, "bentar lagi dia padam" Moonbyul melihat bingkai foto lalu mengambilnya, "itu orangnya" Author mengangguk, "seenggaknya gue punya foto dia kalo kangen di tinggal ngomong aja sama fotonya" Moonbyul menaruh kembali bingkai foto tersebut di atas meja lalu melihat samsak.
"Lo beli samsak?" Author mengangguk lalu memberikan naskahnya, "oke.. gue baca dulu" Author duduk sambil memandangi jalan kota New York lalu menghembuskan napasnya, "ada beberapa yang typo dan di poles sedikit" Author mengangguk, "gak mau pindah?" Author menggeleng, "ini.. tinggal di upgrade, gue nyaman sama tempatnya. Plus, New York vibe gue kerasa kalo di tempat ini" Moonbyul mengangguk. Mereka berdua langsung mendengar notifikasi dari sanf atasan lalu Author mengerutkan keningnya.
"Coba lo nyalain tv" Author langsung menyalakan tvnya lalu ia mengganti channelnya, "Lucas Lee, penulis Wreckage. Tertangkap di bar LightBulbIn dini hari tadi, Lucas tertangkap karena menggunakan narkoba..." Moonbyul langsung mematikan tvnya lalu Author tertawa kecil, "gue bilang apa" Author langsung berdiri lalu menuangkan segelas whisky untuk Moonbyul dan dirinya. "Ini masih siang, Author Gabriel" Moonbyul langsung mengambil whisky dari tangan Author.
"Cheers" Author mengangguk dan menegak habis whiskynya, "gue gak nyangka" Author tersenyum, "yah.. dia songong bilang gue penulis gratisan" Moonbyul, "lo bener, gue juga geli ngeliat kelakuan dia yang kek di hotel waktu itu" Author tersenyum, "dahlah.. sabar, duit gak kemana..." Moonbyul tertawa. "Dah yok, lanjut meetingnya, kali ini gue yang traktir" Moonbyul mengangguk.
4 bulan kemudian...
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me, for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries - Fall Out Boy
Author langsung merapikan kerah kemejanya lalu melegakan tenggorokannya, "Author, lo udah siap?" Author menatap Moonbyul lalu tersenyum, "congrats, lo udah masuk nominasi Kid's Choice Awards" Author tertawa kecil, "ini semua kerja keras lo dan juga campur tangan tuhan, dan Edward Lee Publisher. Gue berterimakasih sama kalian" Moonbyul menepuk-nepuk pundak Author, "lo harus traktir se kantor Carl's Junior" Author mengangguk.
"Lo siap biat di wawancara sama Forbes?" Author tersenyum lalu mengangguk, "yodah ayok" Author langsung merapikan jaketnya dan dasinya, "santai banget" Author menepuk pundak Moonbyul, "gue lebih suka semi formal dan casual, seenggaknya gue gak suka pake baju terlalu berlebihan" Moonbyul membuka pintu untuk Author, "udah... jangan kek bodyguard lo" Author langsung merangkul pundak Moonbyul dan menepuk-nepuk pundak kiri. "Pesan gue cuman satu, jangan buat masalah" Author mengangguk. Author diam-diam mengambil

"HARD DAYS PAY OFF!" Moonbyul langsung mengejar Author karena Author memasukkan es batu kedalam jas miliknya.
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JANGAN LUPA VOTE DAN COMMENT YANG SIDER GUA DOAIN SEMOGA DAPAT HIDAYAH UNTUK MENEKAN TANDA BINTANG, HARGAI KAMI PARA AUTHOR YANG SUDAH BERUSAHA MENUANGKAN IDENYA DALAM BENTUK TULISAN :). Maafkan ijika tidak nyambung

Isinya adalaah sequel cassettes and Author akan nulis untuk bab chapternya besok

I am Aiden. I have a beautiful name. Unlike everything else, my family gave me a good look and nickname. The fact is that in the eyes of most people, I am an attractive man of almost 35 years.
I was born in a coastal city. Near Essex. With streets filled with cool ocean breezes. I can admit that now I miss all those cobblestones, beaches, cliffs, the streets, the old houses, and all those willow trees. I loved the breeze and the ocean's sound so much that I used it for one of my radio programs' background song.
I knew the wizards who all knew what abilities I had, but I wanted to get away from Essex and Salem at full speed.
A city whose people believed in witches, vampires, werewolves, the power of spirits, gods, demons, angels, heaven, and hell, and of course, when you see them with your own eyes, you will definitely believe them. I thought that by moving away from that city and its people, my abilities would also decrease. I wanted to be a normal person.
Now that I can no longer see anyone's face with the help of Agnosia, this feature of my mind reading has also diminished.
I didn't tell you about my gender before. I do not know precisely when I had no gender anymore. You reach a place where you have no age, no gender, not even a name.
I am in the same place and time right now. People around me no longer have a specific age, gender, or name. I'm just trying to guess that, for example, the one I saw in the alley pulling a shopping cart is a middle-aged retired woman. A retiree who was probably a teacher because of her flawed gait model. A teacher who has always stood in front of the blackboard. So she was a math teacher. I gradually became an argumentative person.
Today I went to buy a CD & DVD player. Science has advanced, and no one is looking for these types of devices anymore. Each DVD can hold four and a half gigs of data, while you can store thousands of times this volume in other smaller virtual and non-virtual repositories. But to for taking my night's sleep back from that my neighbor and her CD player and of course her daughter's wedding video, I had to buy her a new one of the devices.
I had seen my neighbor's daughter before I got Agnosia. She was a tall girl with a smiling face and black hair. My neighbor's daughter was a nurse at a New York hospital. She lived with her elderly mother until she was moving one day. I found out that she had rented a house around her hospital to be closer to her workplace.
Maybe you're wondering why her mother had a sleep disorder because of her wedding or relocation? That girl, Maggie, died some time ago. It may be hard to understand that a person had insomnia due to a loved one's death, but not to me! As I said before, mental disorders often exist due to help peoples.
I went early in the morning, and when I arrived at the first shop, I requested a device that would turn off everything by itself when the movie was over.
I was thrilled that such a device available.
The seller's voice was familiar. For a long time, the only difference between people for me is their voices. I do not take it seriously. I do not take familiar sounds seriously because I am not familiar with them.
Sounds are powerful like eyes. For example, I saw the eyes of that medical equipment seller, and now I hear the familiar voice of this audio and video equipment seller.
Of course, the sound may not have anything to do with appearance. Once upon, I used to love sounds, maybe in times that I can't even remember. Perhaps I was even working with sounds. From somewhere I still do not retain, I put the sound aside and went to the painting.
I painted to sell to galleries that generally have clients who do not care about the content of the work they buy. They want something that will come to decorate their luxurious and stylish house. They do not care about art.
Sounds are strange creatures. Ever since I got this dear disease, I have tried not to recognize people's voices, but it did not happen. The sounds, like a power drill, sink into my brain.
If the eyes disappear in my eyes one day, I do not think the sounds can do anything to disappear in my ears.
The seller showed me different models of CD&DVD players. Oh, how can a wise person go and buy a CD and DVD player; But I did not have the patience to explain the problem of my neighbor to the seller.
Instead of explaining my problem to this seller, I decided to tell a nice lie that would make things even more comfortable; a lie about my great love for nostalgic issues and the plethora of CDs and even VHS tapes that I have and want to go back to it.
But this was not a lie. I have many CDs, hard drives full of movies and documentaries, and even VHS videotape and even cassette, which shows that I was once really a movie buff and a music listener.
A few years ago, I returned to my hometown after graduating from university and becoming a well-known radio programmer.
I remember the only reason I came back was to pack up what my family had just dumped in a damp room and bring it to my New York apartment with me. My books, my movies, voices' first recording, and mixing equipment, and much more.
I stared at the salesman's blurred face, and I was sad because of my own failed lie. The vendor introduced me to a DVD&CD player with various ports for playing other types of hard drives and memory. It did not cost much; But not for me, who did not deliver any paintings this month.
I bought a CD player. I bought it to give to my old neighbor to get back my sleep.
When I wanted to come back home, the salesman said, "I know you!"
I could not tell him that I could not even see your face to remember you. But I was content with just saying that I had not seen you before. I say this to a large number of people who claim to know me. Explaining my disorder to people is hard and, of course, stupid.
But the salesman said in disbelief, "I know you by your voice."
Voice?! my voice? My past! My past that to overcome it, I took refuge in my dear and kind disorder. Maybe the salesman, like me, had this lovely disease.
I tried to stare at the salesman's face that it has nothing, not even his eyes, and try to guess where his eyes were. I wanted to stare into his eyes when I wanted to tell him: "I no longer work with sounds."
"I sent my voice to the radio station and even your studio several times. I liked your work a lot, but I did not receive a reply from you. I heard about your resignation from the network, and I tried very hard to find you, and I even went to your studio and saw that it was closed." he said these sentences in a sad voice.
I felt terrible sense about myself for a moment. Of course, most of the time, I have a neutral feeling about myself. Neither good nor bad; But sometimes I feel bad about myself, and this is that moment. I hated myself for not answering anyone.
I was humiliated and abandoned in my life. I was so heartbroken that if they opened it and read it and looked at it, it would look more like the grandpa's patched pajamas of one of my elementary school classmates. The older man who died a few years ago when I came to New York. He did not believe in changing his pajamas.
I am so heartbroken that I decided not to break anyone's heart for a long time and not inflict this deep pain on anyone.
I stared at the salesman again and said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional," but the salesman said, "I'm not looking for this work anymore. I passed courses for this.
They Promised me that they give me a job, but they did not that. I wish you could work again. I'm still listening to your old radio program. Do you want me to play one for you?"
I'm not too fond of anything that connects me to the past. I have been so successful in forgetting my past that all my real memories have turned into dim halos. Sometimes in the face of my history, I think they are just a simple fantasy.
The dreams I have are sometimes more transparent than the real things that happen to me.
I thanked the seller. It occurred to me that I must have heard this man's voice even once, and he happens to have a good voice; So why didn't I asked him that he come to my studio for a test?
I changed the subject in a fraction of a second, and I ran away from myself, my voice, and the memory that was to play.

I gave the CD player to my neighbor. I well remember that night in the past, when her son-in-law with a large bouquet that looked more like a wreath mistakenly rang my apartment, and I told him he had to knock on the side door.
That night I sat on the terrace until morning and smoked a cigarette. I'm not a jealous person. I mean, I have not been jealous for years now; But I think every time my jealousy blooms, I stand on the terrace of my house and smoke a pack of cigarettes that I used to hide for the same time.
That night I was reviewing the faces of all the people in my mind that I escaped from them, and I took refuge in this disease.
I never saw my neighbor's daughter's husband again. That night he came to pay his respects to his mother-in-law, for example. It was Thanksgiving night, and people were gathering together. And I do not know why I had to smoke in that cold before Christmas.
Christmas reminds me of Jules. That night I wanted to search her name on Facebook and see anyone with her name or appearance. Is she alive? Did she keep his word?
But I remembered that I did not even recognize people's pictures in the mirror or even television and photos.
Maggie's husband was a doctor at the same hospital. A tall man with an angled face. It smelled thick and attractive. I remember his hairstyle. He was not bald for me. I remember many things from that man, even the black halo around him. I see halos around people.
After I could no longer recognize the people's faces, an aura appeared around them that they would not bother me if I ignored them.
I gave the CD & DVD player for the older woman. I taught her how to work with it and played the wedding video. The older woman insisted that I stay and have tea with her. I was ashamed of myself, and to make up for the wrong thing I had done to that audio and video store seller in the past, I stepped on my desires and accepted the older woman's invitation.
The film of the wedding was being played, But I did not recognize any of those faces. The sound of the wedding piano march in the church and the bride's scenes coming to the altar. I saw the groom's face at that moment. His face was blurred, but it was not such that I could not recognize it. He had an attractive look, But it was scary for me. Maybe it was because of the combination of his face with that black halo. Perhaps it was because I hadn't seen anyone's full face in a long time. I can not read anyone's mind from films or photos.
The older woman next door entered the room with two cups of green tea with a lemon scent. My neighbor's husband, or rather the deceased bride's father, was an Asian man who died of a stroke many years ago.
Imagine the combination of American and Asian races and see how beautiful Maggie was. I can not stop admiring the beauty of faces. The last thought I read from Maggie that stuck in my mind was her boundless love for her job and her mother. Those were the times when little by little, I could no longer recognize anyone's face.
Maggie's face and thoughts were one of the last things I remember.
All the while waiting for my old neighbor to bring me tea, I was pretending to listen to him talk about her son-in-law and dead daughter.
When I gave her the CD player, I asked her to go on a trip and have fun and pray for her daughter's soul's peace. I forgot to say, the older woman's daughter had committed suicide with a high dose of a hypnotic. Next to her body was a suicide note in which she had said goodbye to her mother and written that she could no longer bear this life.
It was hard for me to believe because I had read Maggie's mind many times; she was one of the few people whose brain was full of passion and hope for life.
Maybe if I were my old neighbor, I slapped myself and said to myself, "O bald creature, instead of advising me, go and tidy up your nonsensical life."
I returned home. The lights were off; I wouldn't say I like the light. I made myself a strong coffee and sat in front of my canvas. The only bright light in my apartment is above the canvas. I have to deliver three paintings by the end of the week, and I am just in the middle of the first painting.
I'm painting a faceless person. One of the people I came across these days is my old neighbor. The gallery owner asked me to deliver three impressive works with a combination of dark yellow, green, and red colors.
I was drawing the curves of my neighbor's face when I heard a sound like Essex's wind. I knew this voice well. I do not doubt my ears. I thought it was the sound of a neighbor's house again. But it was the voice of one of my old works. Suddenly my voice played with the backdrop of the sound of the ocean and the breeze. This sound was one of my old programs.
To make this program, I waited for days for the best recording of Essex's sound. I went to the room and saw that the laptop was on and that the sound was playing. I had not turned on my computer for days. I did not have that old radio program with my performance in my archive.
Even for me, who is born and lived with strange events, it is odd and scary to face such a scene.
I stepped back and turned on the hallway light leading to the living room, and the sound stopped. I saw a shadow next to my terrace window. I thought when I was not in my apartment; a person entered my home. My eyes were blurred. The shadow disappeared. The light above the canvas turned on and off. I turned to the part of the house where I had a tripod and a canvas, and my eyes met a familiar face. I had not seen a face for a long time. I was scared. Maggie was standing next to the painting of her mother.

If you do not want your secrets to be revealed to Aiden, do not let him look at you! Of course, if he can see your face!

The boundary between seeing everything and nothing!
When you caught up in all the supernatural events, you suddenly realize that love is perhaps the most important of them all.



I am Aiden. I have a beautiful name. Unlike everything else, my family gave me a good look and nickname. The fact is that in the eyes of most people, I am an attractive man of almost 35 years. 

I was born in a coastal city. Near Essex. With streets filled with cool ocean breezes. I can admit that now I miss all those cobblestones, beaches, cliffs, the streets, the old houses, and all those willow trees. I loved the breeze and the ocean's sound so much that I used it for one of my radio programs' background song. 

I knew the wizards who all knew what abilities I had, but I wanted to get away from Essex and Salem at full speed. 

A city whose people believed in witches, vampires, werewolves, the power of spirits, gods, demons, angels, heaven, and hell, and of course, when you see them with your own eyes, you will definitely believe them. I thought that by moving away from that city and its people, my abilities would also decrease. I wanted to be a normal person. 

Now that I can no longer see anyone's face with the help of Agnosia, this feature of my mind reading has also diminished. 

I didn't tell you about my gender before. I do not know precisely when I had no gender anymore. You reach a place where you have no age, no gender, not even a name. 

I am in the same place and time right now. People around me no longer have a specific age, gender, or name. I'm just trying to guess that, for example, the one I saw in the alley pulling a shopping cart is a middle-aged retired woman. A retiree who was probably a teacher because of her flawed gait model. A teacher who has always stood in front of the blackboard. So she was a math teacher. I gradually became an argumentative person. 

Today I went to buy a CD & DVD player. Science has advanced, and no one is looking for these types of devices anymore. Each DVD can hold four and a half gigs of data, while you can store thousands of times this volume in other smaller virtual and non-virtual repositories. But to for taking my night's sleep back from that my neighbor and her CD player and of course her daughter's wedding video, I had to buy her a new one of the devices. 

I had seen my neighbor's daughter before I got Agnosia. She was a tall girl with a smiling face and black hair. My neighbor's daughter was a nurse at a New York hospital. She lived with her elderly mother until she was moving one day. I found out that she had rented a house around her hospital to be closer to her workplace. 

Maybe you're wondering why her mother had a sleep disorder because of her wedding or relocation? That girl, Maggie, died some time ago. It may be hard to understand that a person had insomnia due to a loved one's death, but not to me! As I said before, mental disorders often exist due to help peoples. 

I went early in the morning, and when I arrived at the first shop, I requested a device that would turn off everything by itself when the movie was over. 

I was thrilled that such a device available. 

The seller's voice was familiar. For a long time, the only difference between people for me is their voices. I do not take it seriously. I do not take familiar sounds seriously because I am not familiar with them. 

Sounds are powerful like eyes. For example, I saw the eyes of that medical equipment seller, and now I hear the familiar voice of this audio and video equipment seller. 

Of course, the sound may not have anything to do with appearance. Once upon, I used to love sounds, maybe in times that I can't even remember. Perhaps I was even working with sounds. From somewhere I still do not retain, I put the sound aside and went to the painting. 

I painted to sell to galleries that generally have clients who do not care about the content of the work they buy. They want something that will come to decorate their luxurious and stylish house. They do not care about art. 

Sounds are strange creatures. Ever since I got this dear disease, I have tried not to recognize people's voices, but it did not happen. The sounds, like a power drill, sink into my brain. 

If the eyes disappear in my eyes one day, I do not think the sounds can do anything to disappear in my ears. 

The seller showed me different models of CD&DVD players. Oh, how can a wise person go and buy a CD and DVD player; But I did not have the patience to explain the problem of my neighbor to the seller. 

Instead of explaining my problem to this seller, I decided to tell a nice lie that would make things even more comfortable; a lie about my great love for nostalgic issues and the plethora of CDs and even VHS tapes that I have and want to go back to it. 

But this was not a lie. I have many CDs, hard drives full of movies and documentaries, and even VHS videotape and even cassette, which shows that I was once really a movie buff and a music listener. 

A few years ago, I returned to my hometown after graduating from university and becoming a well-known radio programmer. 

I remember the only reason I came back was to pack up what my family had just dumped in a damp room and bring it to my New York apartment with me. My books, my movies, voices' first recording, and mixing equipment, and much more. 

I stared at the salesman's blurred face, and I was sad because of my own failed lie. The vendor introduced me to a DVD&CD player with various ports for playing other types of hard drives and memory. It did not cost much; But not for me, who did not deliver any paintings this month. 

I bought a CD player. I bought it to give to my old neighbor to get back my sleep. 

When I wanted to come back home, the salesman said, "I know you!" 

I could not tell him that I could not even see your face to remember you. But I was content with just saying that I had not seen you before. I say this to a large number of people who claim to know me. Explaining my disorder to people is hard and, of course, stupid. 

But the salesman said in disbelief, "I know you by your voice." 

Voice?! my voice? My past! My past that to overcome it, I took refuge in my dear and kind disorder. Maybe the salesman, like me, had this lovely disease. 

I tried to stare at the salesman's face that it has nothing, not even his eyes, and try to guess where his eyes were. I wanted to stare into his eyes when I wanted to tell him: "I no longer work with sounds." 

"I sent my voice to the radio station and even your studio several times. I liked your work a lot, but I did not receive a reply from you. I heard about your resignation from the network, and I tried very hard to find you, and I even went to your studio and saw that it was closed." he said these sentences in a sad voice. 

I felt terrible sense about myself for a moment. Of course, most of the time, I have a neutral feeling about myself. Neither good nor bad; But sometimes I feel bad about myself, and this is that moment. I hated myself for not answering anyone. 

I was humiliated and abandoned in my life. I was so heartbroken that if they opened it and read it and looked at it, it would look more like the grandpa's patched pajamas of one of my elementary school classmates. The older man who died a few years ago when I came to New York. He did not believe in changing his pajamas. 

I am so heartbroken that I decided not to break anyone's heart for a long time and not inflict this deep pain on anyone. 

I stared at the salesman again and said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional," but the salesman said, "I'm not looking for this work anymore. I passed courses for this. 

They Promised me that they give me a job, but they did not that. I wish you could work again. I'm still listening to your old radio program. Do you want me to play one for you?" 

I'm not too fond of anything that connects me to the past. I have been so successful in forgetting my past that all my real memories have turned into dim halos. Sometimes in the face of my history, I think they are just a simple fantasy. 

The dreams I have are sometimes more transparent than the real things that happen to me. 

I thanked the seller. It occurred to me that I must have heard this man's voice even once, and he happens to have a good voice; So why didn't I asked him that he come to my studio for a test? 

I changed the subject in a fraction of a second, and I ran away from myself, my voice, and the memory that was to play. 

I gave the CD player to my neighbor. I well remember that night in the past, when her son-in-law with a large bouquet that looked more like a wreath mistakenly rang my apartment, and I told him he had to knock on the side door. 

That night I sat on the terrace until morning and smoked a cigarette. I'm not a jealous person. I mean, I have not been jealous for years now; But I think every time my jealousy blooms, I stand on the terrace of my house and smoke a pack of cigarettes that I used to hide for the same time. 

That night I was reviewing the faces of all the people in my mind that I escaped from them, and I took refuge in this disease. 

I never saw my neighbor's daughter's husband again. That night he came to pay his respects to his mother-in-law, for example. It was Thanksgiving night, and people were gathering together. And I do not know why I had to smoke in that cold before Christmas. 

Christmas reminds me of Jules. That night I wanted to search her name on Facebook and see anyone with her name or appearance. Is she alive? Did she keep his word? 

But I remembered that I did not even recognize people's pictures in the mirror or even television and photos. 

Maggie's husband was a doctor at the same hospital. A tall man with an angled face. It smelled thick and attractive. I remember his hairstyle. He was not bald for me. I remember many things from that man, even the black halo around him. I see halos around people. 

After I could no longer recognize the people's faces, an aura appeared around them that they would not bother me if I ignored them. 

I gave the CD & DVD player for the older woman. I taught her how to work with it and played the wedding video. The older woman insisted that I stay and have tea with her. I was ashamed of myself, and to make up for the wrong thing I had done to that audio and video store seller in the past, I stepped on my desires and accepted the older woman's invitation. 

The film of the wedding was being played, But I did not recognize any of those faces. The sound of the wedding piano march in the church and the bride's scenes coming to the altar. I saw the groom's face at that moment. His face was blurred, but it was not such that I could not recognize it. He had an attractive look, But it was scary for me. Maybe it was because of the combination of his face with that black halo. Perhaps it was because I hadn't seen anyone's full face in a long time. I can not read anyone's mind from films or photos. 

The older woman next door entered the room with two cups of green tea with a lemon scent. My neighbor's husband, or rather the deceased bride's father, was an Asian man who died of a stroke many years ago. 

Imagine the combination of American and Asian races and see how beautiful Maggie was. I can not stop admiring the beauty of faces. The last thought I read from Maggie that stuck in my mind was her boundless love for her job and her mother. Those were the times when little by little, I could no longer recognize anyone's face. 

Maggie's face and thoughts were one of the last things I remember. 

All the while waiting for my old neighbor to bring me tea, I was pretending to listen to him talk about her son-in-law and dead daughter. 

When I gave her the CD player, I asked her to go on a trip and have fun and pray for her daughter's soul's peace. I forgot to say, the older woman's daughter had committed suicide with a high dose of a hypnotic. Next to her body was a suicide note in which she had said goodbye to her mother and written that she could no longer bear this life. 

It was hard for me to believe because I had read Maggie's mind many times; she was one of the few people whose brain was full of passion and hope for life. 

Maybe if I were my old neighbor, I slapped myself and said to myself, "O bald creature, instead of advising me, go and tidy up your nonsensical life." 

I returned home. The lights were off; I wouldn't say I like the light. I made myself a strong coffee and sat in front of my canvas. The only bright light in my apartment is above the canvas. I have to deliver three paintings by the end of the week, and I am just in the middle of the first painting. 

I'm painting a faceless person. One of the people I came across these days is my old neighbor. The gallery owner asked me to deliver three impressive works with a combination of dark yellow, green, and red colors. 

I was drawing the curves of my neighbor's face when I heard a sound like Essex's wind. I knew this voice well. I do not doubt my ears. I thought it was the sound of a neighbor's house again. But it was the voice of one of my old works. Suddenly my voice played with the backdrop of the sound of the ocean and the breeze. This sound was one of my old programs. 

To make this program, I waited for days for the best recording of Essex's sound. I went to the room and saw that the laptop was on and that the sound was playing. I had not turned on my computer for days. I did not have that old radio program with my performance in my archive. 

Even for me, who is born and lived with strange events, it is odd and scary to face such a scene. 

I stepped back and turned on the hallway light leading to the living room, and the sound stopped. I saw a shadow next to my terrace window. I thought when I was not in my apartment; a person entered my home. My eyes were blurred. The shadow disappeared. The light above the canvas turned on and off. I turned to the part of the house where I had a tripod and a canvas, and my eyes met a familiar face. I had not seen a face for a long time. I was scared. Maggie was standing next to the painting of her mother.

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