Curse

Have you ever wished you could stop time? Sounds cool, right? The idea of freezing the world around you while you move freely, untouchable, unaffected. It feels like the ultimate power. Until you realize the one, horrifying truth: while the universe stands still, *you* keep aging. A year for you, a second for everyone else. The weight of that knowledge crushes any sense of control you think you have.

For me, it wasn't just a curse—it was something far worse.

Who am I? My name is Yead. I've never had the life I wanted. Never had a future to look forward to. Never had anyone who truly understood me. Well, that last part isn't entirely true. There was one person, just one, who actually understood me. My best friend. My only friend.

But let me take you back to where it all began.

My parents—what can I even call them? Monsters? That doesn't seem strong enough. They practiced black magic, made deals with demons, all for one purpose: to grant me the ability to stop time. They said it was a gift, but I learned the hard way that it was more of a death sentence.

You see, that "gift" is the reason my soul left my body before I ever died. Sounds unbelievable, right? But that's my reality. My body kept walking around, kept living like any other person, except it had one key difference—it didn't have a soul inside it. It was just a shell. A hollow vessel.

And me? I wandered. My soul, torn from my body, drifted through this twisted world, searching for something—*anything*—to hold onto. I couldn't just vanish. Not yet. I wasn't ready. My existence couldn't end like this.

That's when I found it. The old sketchbook.

It had been a gift from my one and only friend. My best friend. The only person who ever cared about me, who ever saw me for who I was. He gave me that sketchbook, not knowing what it would become. But in the end, it became my vessel. My prison. My salvation. I poured myself into it, my very soul merging with the pages. I became something… else.

We live in a slum, even though my family has money. The irony, right? Surrounded by filth and decay, while we hoard wealth from the shadows. But none of it matters. My parents—those wretched creatures—force me to use my abilities to rob banks, museums, whatever they can get their hands on. They don't care about the cost. They don't care that I'm slowly breaking, that with each moment I stop time, I lose a little more of myself.

They want to keep it all a secret. Even from my best friend. He has no idea. No idea what I've done, what I've become. If he knew the truth, it would destroy him. He'd never look at me the same way again. He'd hate me.

I hate me.

But now, with the sketchbook in my possession, everything's different. It's no longer just a book—it's my world. My power. My *story*. Inside its pages, I can create entire worlds. I can write my own destiny. Live the life I've always wanted. I can be free, even if only for a little while.

You're probably wondering who that best friend of mine is. His name is Arindom Das.

And he has no idea about the darkness I carry within me.