Story Time

My somewhat pathetic and tragic life began on the seventh of July 1837 at exactly 7:07:07pm in the town of London. And from that moment on, it was as if I was bron and destined for misfortune. When I first saw the light of the Earth, my parents whose name were Philips and Divya seemed to genuinely care for me as I was their seventh child, the others were not able to make it past the infancy state or they either died while they were still inside my mother's womb, but that all that care and love was short lived.

As a child, I was always included in accidents that happened around me, whether it was breaking a vase or falling off a bike. When I was just five months old, my mother left me in my crib to sleep to go fetch some water, while she was gone my crib had magically flipped over and was pinning me against the ground.

When my mother returned she saw me on the ground crying. And one time when I was around two years old, while it was raining heavily outside. One of the wooden planks of the roof actually fell down and the plank was positioned in such a way that the part that hit me actually had a nail, the nail nearly pierced through my skull and reach my brain.

And also one time when I was five years old, I was actually bitten by two snakes. And both of them were poisonous, and both of them bit me in my neck but I somehow survived, the pain I felt was so painful I felt like ripping my throat out.

And that one time when I was six years old, a rabid dog bit me on my leg and tore a chunk of flesh out of my legs. And I had actually gotten rabies and then received two shots of rabies.

And when I was eleven years old, I climbed a tall tree which was about twenty five feet tall. I climbed to the very top of the, and once I reached that hight, I started to dance on one of the tree's huge branch which was more than a two feet thick branch. But the branch still somehow broke and I fell from the tree and smashed my skull on the ground. My parents reluctantly took me to the nearest hospital.

The doctor said that my skull was fractured, but he also said I would somehow magically survive?

I also would often find myself at the wrong place at the wrong time, leading to people blaming me for things that I had no control over.

Both my parents were abusive, both physically and emotionally. They would often take out their frustrations on me, leaving me with bruises and scars that I would hide from others so that they would not get punished for hurting me this much as I still loved them dearly.

Despite their mistreatment, I still truly loved my parents and had always worked my hardest to provide for them as our family was very poor and was struggling to make ends meet.

I would often take odd jobs around town, such as sweeping floors or delivering packages or cleaning toilets, just to earn a few extra coins to help my parents make ends meet.

But even with all my struggle, found solace and joy in reading the newspapers and books, which I would do every day without fail. I taught myself the alphabets, numbers and many other things. I books about science, maths, novel and stories. But the one which drew my attention the most were newspapers.

And I was always intrigued by a convicted murderer who was given the nickname 'White Devil.' The true name of this killer was not known by probably everyone, but one thing the news knew about him was that he was a genius and always wore an all-white gentleman outfit.

The man was strange, the way he killed, the people he targeted was much different than your day to day psychopath.

The man would always leave cryptic sentences that made many people question their life and beliefs.

As I grew older, I became more and more fascinated with the White Devil. I tried to read every article that came out about him, and even started collecting newspaper clippings and articles. I studied everything I could about the man, trying to understand what made him tick. But I kept all my research hidden under my bed, as I didn't want his parents to find out about my obsession and what would think about me if they found out.

Despite my fascination with the White Devil, I always tried to be a good person at heart. I never wanted to hurt anyone, and I always tried to do what was right.

And despite this I tried to live a normal life. I worked odd jobs to help support my parents, who were becoming increasingly abusive as time went on. My father, in particular, was a cruel and violent man who took out his anger on me whenever he was drunk for no reason.

Was I sad? Yes, I was very sad that my parents hated me and abused me mentally and physically.

But do I hate them? No, even though they do not even hesitate to hurt me or say bad words about me and call me worthless, I still loved.

Even though is was in a constant struggle, I never gave up hope. I held onto the belief that things would get better, that one day his life would take a turn for the better. I always believed that as I wanted to be optimistic about things. But fate had a very different and cruel plan for me.

One day I went out of home to work. After a long day of hard work I decided to go home and to buy some groceries one the way, as I was walking home from work with the groceries in my hand, I was stopped and accosted by a group of fou thugs who had a bone to pick with me but I have never seen them before and one of the men spoke out to me in an enraged tone.

Thug 1:YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!!

I looked at the man who was towering over me and spoke out in a low tone while kneeling.

???:Sir, I do not know who you are but if I ever wronged you in any way, please do forgive me.

One of the other thug looked at me with disgust and shouted out at me.

Thug 3:DO YOU REALLY THINK WE WOULD JUST FORGIVE YOU AFTER YOU STOLE FROM US?!!

I looked at the man and spoke out to him trying to clear up the misunderstanding and said.

???:Sir, I think you have mistaken me for another person. Never once in my life have I ever tried to steal from anyone before. I humbly ask you to please let me pass.

Enraged by my reply, one of the other thug spoke out and said.

Thug 4: YOU SERIOUSLY THINK WE ARE FOOLS?!!!

Before I could answer him back, the man kicked me in my chin knocking me backwards. As I was recovering from the strike. The thugs then all took out knives from their pockets and then shouted.

Thug 1:You are gonna die here.

[A few moments later]

I kneeled on the ground ignoring my injuries, I looked at my hands which had the blood of another man in them. I kept looking at my hands and then suddenly tears started to gush out out of my eyes.

As I had just taken the life of a man, I was sad to hear this. I just kept crying until a police officer arrived to where I was kneeling. The police looked at me as if he was looking at at monster. Then the police spoke up.

Police:So you filthy abomination finally killed someone, I guess that you grew tired of putting up that facade of being nice. Filths like you deserve to be hanged.

As the police said that he dragged me over to the station. He threw me inside the cell but I had no reaction I was still in shock that I killed someone.

Despite the fact that I killed him was because matter of life and death and was done in self defense. I was still tried and found guilty of murder, but I believe the main reason for this was the fact that they had searched my parents house and found all the articles and newspapers which I had hidden beneath my bed. I was sentenced to death, and my execution was supposed the be held on the seventh of July 1857.

I was dragged to the podium where there was a rope. I looked at the rope but still had no reaction. I looked around the crowd and saw that everyone was looking at me with disgust with in their eyes. But to my surprise, my parents were not present at all, were they too angry to even see me or were they sad that I was going to be hanged alive infront of all these people.

But I do think the latter reason is a more logical explanation. The newspapers were also probably publishing about me as a murderer who tried to be like the infamous White Devil. But I didn't care about their opinion as I am going to die anyways. But I still didn't feel hate for those eyes that looked at me with disgust, as I deserved it as I had taken the life of a man.

And so the countdown finished, and I was hanged for seven minutes before finally dying. And my time of death was 7 July 1857 07:07:07pm.

As I died everything went black as I could not see anything, I felt as if I was falling. But I still kept my eyes closed. But then suddenly I crashed into something which had stopped my fall.

I looked around and saw a gate that said Welcome to Hell. I realised that my soul was sent to Hell, a place of eternal punishment and torment, well at least it was written like this in the Bible. I knew that he deserved to be there as I had killed someone, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. I felt like he was meant for more than this, like I was meant for something greater.

For the first three years, I just hid in the shadows, living in constant fear of the demons and monsters that roamed Hell. I decided I would make no interactions with the rest of Hell at all, choosing instead to keep to himself and wallow in his despair.

And while I was hiding during those three years. Every New Year's Eve, I could hear the screams of pain and agony and the screams ended every New Year's Day. I didn't know the reason for this, but made a mental note to never go out during New Year's Eve.

One day while I was looking out to the streets, I saw a lizard like man at the gates of Hell, the man wore an all-white gentleman outfit. I looked at the man in surprise as I could not believe my eyes on what I was seeing.

A question popped up in my mind.

???:Is this...The White Devil'?

While I was busy thinking, the lizard looking being approached me and asked me.

???:What's wrong? Scared of this place? Mate.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

END

That is all for this chapter, thank you for reading and I hope you like it. Have a good day or night and good luck to you all.

Peace