Author's Note: So, I made up my own kind of demon called a Shadow Dragon, hence the title. I hope you guy's like this. R&R! And please, leave comments. They help me get better.
When I wake,
I shall die.
My life will lie in your hands.
Hold me tight just once
Before I die,
And my life shall be complete.
There is a time of day that I can't stand. Maybe it's because of all the things that have happened in my life, how they all seemed to happen around this time. During this time, all I want to do is die. But I know that I can't. Not now. So I found other ways of entertaining myself. What are they? I can't tell you. Not many people like me, not many people trust me, all for a good reason. I sometimes don't even trust myself.
If you are a person who doesn't like death, then I suggest that you don't read anything past this sentence. All that awaits is misery. I know that I probably already have lost some people, but I know others will stay and read this. For those of you that stay, I thank you. I want my story known before I die, for I can feel that the end will be soon. With every word I write, it draws to a close. My breathing is getting heavier, slower. My eyelids, closing on their own, against my will.
The pain throughout my body slowly turns to numbness, spreading. I wasn't very fond of this feeling; it was one of death. One I had experienced before. I looked quickly at my sword and saw that it was almost whole, and knew at that moment that I wasn't going to die today. I could already tell that the wound was healing as I regained feeling. My breathing became lighter.
I sighed, ready to take on the world again. To show them who I truly was. That I was not one to be pushed around. To be prodded and poked at.
No. I was better than that, and they would all pay. I, Jacqueline Delacour, would make them rue the day that they had decided to kill me. I was an idea, and ideas cannot die. They may have killed me, but I can back, more demonic than ever. I am a Shadow Dragon. One of the only seven that exist. I am rare. I am powerful.
My very existence means death.