Everyone had a soulmate. One day you would wake up with someone else's message written on your skin, that was a fact, an expectation. Alexander had never once received a message from his soulmate. “This is who you are,” he said to himself, his tone dripping malice. “You’re meant to be alone. No one is supposed to love you.” The sentence that used to make him erupt—to cry and scream—had lost its sting. It’s just a fact to him now, a reminder to not let people in. Sleeves down, eyes up. No one will see. No one will know. He was just a soulmate-less bastard from the Caribbean, destined for greatness, maybe, but destined to be alone.
- Part 1 of PS&PS
“Hey, my parents sent me here? Said they had already contacted you people.”
The man at the gate scoffed. “Ah, another bitter child. Cool. Which one are you?”
“Ah. Yeah, rule number one. No last names here. You’re George here.” He paused, scoffing. “Same name as the owner of this camp. Maybe that’ll help you win his favor. Doubt it, but it can’t hurt. Welcome to Acolyte.”
A Paint Splatters and Penstrokes story.
- Part 2 of PS&PS