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I turned my head and looked at Delphi. She was lucky. She didn't have to see these horrible things. She didn't have to see the disastrous event, the deaths, the lies, corruption. She saw the good things in life, and i wondered what it would be like. What it would be like if i saw the good things in life. The victories, the glory, the love, the births. She was lucky. Thats more than i could say for myself. When i was younger, sure I had friends, but they weren't much. I said hi and waved them by, smiling. But never did i really talk to anyone. I've seen Delphi a few times around and helped her with a few things, but besides that i was alone, depressed, and different. People said i was strange because I would often wander around and just listen. I'd hear the world speak to me -and i don't care how crazy you think i am, i really did hear it- and tell me of it's past and its present. I spoke to flowers too, but their voice had faded over time. It's sad, they were my best friend.I knew of how the first thing had come from our sun, though that had been lost in books. Ah... books were wondrous. They could take your mind and send it far, far away into another land. A place of wonder and excitement, and even romance. I could bury my head in books for weeks sometimes. May I add that I read kind of slow, and have trouble with alot of words. I had missed most of my schooling to take care of my Mother and Pa. My mother was bedridden and my father worked all the time, and when he wasn't working, he was drinking. Sometimes I would come home and have to drag my father into bed, and he wouldn't even awaken. He'd just snore away, drool pouring down his face, dripping off his chin onto his grease covered overalls. I felt sorry for the old man. His wife was stuck in her room all the time due to her critical illness, and his daughter was a disappointment. I was different, what can I say? People never liked me because I had a gloominess about me. My skin, hair, body...

I remember I had been sent to church -when it existed- once to pick up some medicine for my mother. I walked in and saw a man kneeling down with his hands together, talking to a statue. I walked over to the man and asked him: Sir, what are you doing my I ask? He had told me that he was praying for forgiveness. He had done something that he didn't mean to do. He brought a child into this world that he could not afford to have, and he was forced to kill -I will not say murder- that child. He did not know of it, but

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