The theory of dictatorship

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
King Daniel didnt create the way he runs Kratos on his own...

Submitted: April 03, 2013

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Submitted: April 03, 2013



It all began with an idea. My father, with his unexplainable logic and a lack of reason. We all thought him to be insane! He would rant and rave about the strangest of things (things he called utopia), and we would act like we understood. The neighbors sometimes took us in for days out of fear that he would harm us. He never would, though. My Father may have been a kook, but he loved Katherine, Isaac, and I more then anything. But they didn’t believe me. One day, when I was seven (three years older than the twins), a sleek black car drove up the old country road. Father looked scared. The man with the crisp white shirt, shiny shoes, and sunglasses walked in without knocking. He told us to pack our things. Father screamed for the man to leave; that only made things worse. We were told to wait in the car. Katherine and Isaac did as told, but I clung desperately to Father’s legs. Father pulled me into his arms and started to cry. “Please, oh please. Daniel, stay.” he sobbed, as the man yanked me away. I struggled and shrieked as he threw me into the back of the sleek black car and sped away. I got a glimpse of Father, running behind us in the cloud of dust that arose in the dry summer heat. For two years, I fought. I hid. I cried. I wanted my father. They took him away. Katherine and Isaac grew older, and lost any memory of him.They wanted a new family, and I wanted the old one. I didn’t tell them, through. they wouldn’t understand. I didn’t ever lose them. I only lost me. Eventually, they tried to give us to another family. One with a sweet Mother, a smart Father, and a big house with a great yard to play in. Katherine and Isaac were intrigued, and fell instantly in love with their “parents”. I was, by then, a shell. I felt nothing, but acted like a normal ten year old. I was quiet, so no one questioned my bleakness. when I was eighteen, graduating, with my past locked away. I had acquired some substance and personality, but was numb to the pain. That’s when I got the phone call that changed my life. I ran into the asylum, feeling a combination of glee and sorrow. I had finally found Father! He remembered me! The sorrow was the circumstance in which the called upon me- He was dying.


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