WordCount: 500 Being a 'Modifier' was not always illegal. There was a time when anyone could modify any device, electronic or not, regardless of the company that made it, when you bought your robots, even common appliances such as a refrigerator or microwave, you could always send it to fix or modify with a Modifier available in your area. While it depended on your specialty and what you were modifying, the Aparicio brothers never lacked for food, and for that very reason, they built for themselves a reputation, a workshop and the freedom to live, even when it seemed that the rest of the world turned its back on them. The first Aparicio, the eldest, specialized in robots and androids, a highly paid specialty in which they could get quite a lot of money per project. The second Aparicio, preferred quantity over complexity, and repaired or modified any commonly used device needed by his clients, the ideal position to gather information, since almost all of his clients ended up telling them the latest news from the big city. The last Aparicio was the spoiled one of the three, compulsive worker and stubborn as a nut, he was dedicated to help his three brothers, to manage the accounts, and in his free time he modified vehicles, which of course, nobody ordered or sold because they were regulated, but as long as the little one did not get into trouble, his brothers would always cover for him. Everything change, when even under the protection of the Modifiers association, in less than three days, a new legislation had been raised, which condemned the 'Modification' of ill-intentioned manipulation of private property started a hunt for modifiers. Many closed those three days, several vacated their shops and hoped that was enough to save them, but as Modifier after Modifier began to disappear, they realized there was more behind them than just business. The Aparicio brothers were fortunate to have been warned a few days before, being loved by all their customers for their personality and service, everyone who knew even a rumor warned them. They took their things, settled accounts, took out as much money as they could and were ready to leave when the older Aparicio brothers realized that the youngest was missing from their home. In panic, the first place that came to mind had been the abandoned workshop. When they arrived, they could hear behind them that officers were close to the area, and time was running out to find the little boy and get out of there. They found him on top of an aircraft they had not seen before and, more terrified than proud, they loaded their things and escaped from the place, but not before turning their eyes to the now burned workshop. "That's it?" asked the youngest, seeing how his whole life had turned to ashes in front of him. "Sometimes, to build something new, you have to destroy the past." Said the older brother, convinced that a new beginning awaited them.

I need more of this couple! 😭 So cute 💗

WordCount: 429 Diana was 37 years old when she discovered that a capirotada tasted just like home. Sitting on a wobbly three-legged chair ("that's how it came" her neighbor told her when she gave it to her, but she doubts it), eating straight from the pot with a tiny spoon, in the small yellow kitchen in her small but expensive apartment with a great view of the night in the big city, Diana cried as between spoonfuls she remembered home. Her home wasn't even a big deal, a house a little bigger than that apartment, a noisy, stinky dog who licked her against her will, but who helped her on her escapades if she gave him enough snacks; a kettle that squeaked so loudly that even her neighbor complained every time her parents made coffee, and two older brothers who made her laugh until she peed, and cry herself to sleep. The capirotada wasn't even that good, she thought. Her dad taught her how to make it so that when she was alone she wouldn't end up eating pieces of bread that tasted burnt (for the record, that only happened the first time she tried to cook it), and what a treat it was! Diana always believed that there was a special ingredient that her dad never wanted to share with her, that's how he was, doing experiments in the kitchen that would later make her mom scold them both (even though she had done nothing, or well, almost nothing) and put them to wash the whole kitchen (we may be a little messy sometimes). Diana almost choked with laughter through the tears that escaped from her. What was she going to tell her brothers? Guys, my parents had an accident, as I was their last call, they officers called me, your younger sister, and now I have to share with you the news that, ta da!, we don't have living parents anymore. Can you be an orphan at 37 years old? Because that's how it felt. So many years, a stable career, an apartment in a good place, no children but with 25 countries stamped in her passport and the best family in the world. That's the way it is, that's the way it was, that's the way it should have been for many years to come. Diana had slid to the floor at some point, in her arms the still warm pot. Her present was gone, and now all she had was a watered-down capirotada to feel them with her again, even if it was only in the past.

Uff, I really love the concept! So cool! I love to read more about this 🤩

This was an experiment, you know, the one that sounds better in your head hahaha, well, it's like a circle(?, if you see it, great, awesome :') That was my interpretation of simultaneity, but just in case put also the world, so it fit. Love y'all <3

Word Count: 154 I'm trying. To be happy. In a world that changes. Following the light. Inside me. Laughing at the stars. That stare at me, amused. Running through the lies. Of family. Of love and flowers. That whispers my name. Searching. For the reason. I am. I am not. The answer. Lost in time. Shouting for freedom. From pain and stone. From the eyes of loneliness. Falling for the truth. Sneering me with pleasure. The blinding sun. Outside me. Hiding from the shadows. In my broken self. Crying. I give up. Maybe it’s the only way. To close my eyes. Not look back. At memories that always are. There to feel. Simultaneously pink. Blue. Purple. Always comparing. To a better me. That I am. I am not. Never changing. To green. Red. Only white. Divided by a transparent window. The times that’ll never come back. Keep looking forward. Open your eyes. To all the new possibilities.

WC: 466 Edit: None My grandmother is a witch. Black eyes that reflected the stolen souls of innocents, white teeth hiding the flesh and blood of her murdered victims, wrinkles that, like snakes, moved around her face, changing it as necessary. We lived on the outskirts of a magical town, known for its festivals and colorful crafts, roaming its streets in search of new prey, new life. I tried to escape so many times I couldn't count, but each attempt failed. Madness chased me through the dark alleys that haunted my mind, creating gaps in my memory in order to survive. The witch needed me alive, her target uncertain. I met a girl once in that town who captured my heart, love was a wonderful feeling, with which I could feel my strength grow to free myself from the witch and escape with her. But my grandmother noticed it before I succeeded. She used to use sweet and gentle smiles to hypnotize her victims, who came under her mantle like bees to honey. Like a doctor, she can see what her patient needs, creating the perfect oasis to trap those who least expected it. My beloved never had a chance, none of us ever did. Shivers shivered through my body every time I watched her work and on many occasions I looked away from the sins she was dragged into in her search for the next life essence that would keep her young and healthy, even when her appearance contradicted it. Hundreds of years I lived under her tutelage, being instructed in the dark and macabre arts that the modern world ignored because of its useless pride. I followed in her footsteps to the letter, trying to be like her, better than her. The moment came, another year, and the very festival where I had lost my beloved was being held at night under the full moon, and the witch was growing more and more tired. We would both make our move tonight, but this time, I knew something she did not. The witch's body would deteriorate no matter how many souls she consumed or what bodies she sacrificed, but mine would not. She planned to eliminate my soul and occupy my body, but I was no longer the same ignorant woman I was hundreds of years ago. Today I was going to kill that damned witch, and free the soul of my beloved. Under the reflections of the fireworks in the starry night, our battle broke out. Curses, spells and profanities marked the environment around us and the climax of it. The people would never know that a few meters from the center of town, souls were rejoicing around a white-haired, red-eyed young woman, embraced by the figure of a translucent maiden, as she held aloft the black beating heart of the witch in her hands.

Aww, what a cute serenata <3

I love how many of your sentences rhyme <3 like "The look was perfect, the night was young, I opened the door and greeted his smile with my own."

WC: 189 Is the morality of an act judged by the act or the intention behind it? Whitish eyes, with curtain eyelashes witnessed an explosion of crystals, ungrateful fragility composed of sorrow and friendship… He did not understand, in the instant of clarity that followed an uncontrolled action, everything lost its meaning. Why had he done it? Screaming in horror and blind rage, he glimpsed his bloody hands in the dim illumination of the nearest lamppost in the middle of the night, only to end up with the monster inside himself while he still could. He never believed he would succumb to what he had feared the most, and at that moment he only begged for forgiveness from the only being who would know his pain and guilt. ------ Nearby there was the murmur of a kitchen in use, a lady then hears the heartbreaking cry. “Ah, those children again, it is because of kids like them that there is terror and violence in the streets,” said the lady in scorn. “I wish they would shut up soon.” And right after that, the weeping of agony ceased. The woman smiled. “How nice.”

Uff, amazing, the pacing, the writing and depictions of unconformable and eerie situations <3

Word count: 786 ✨ The silk running through her body could not console the sorrow of her resigned heart. Her bare feet, caressing the stones of her path, felt like knives trying to stop her. Ah, nature had always been her space of comfort until this moment, the forest that had welcomed her for years was now nothing more than a tomb of dark oak and moss. Devotees surrounded the young girl's passage on the cobblestone path, hidden in a forest, dressed in ceremonial clothing, the young girl's garment glistened with luxury and quality, whitish silk, filthy purity. Her face hidden by a veil, no one could see that the face of duty was only half the age of those devotees who chanted rejoicing for the priestess who would put an end to the evil of the village. Each step carried with it a memory of the last five years in the temple. Voices chanting the greatness of sacrifice as the most immaculate devotion, but she did not agree. While evil was to be eradicated, could it not be influenced? Try to change it first? If only the Supreme Deity was able to judge, what were they doing walking toward the end of a life? The weight of the dagger in her outstretched hands in front of her threatened to unbalance her. Before she had been rescued by the devotees, she had lived free in the forest, one more spirit of all those who now watched silently in the darkness of the leaves, she could run away now, leave everything behind, let someone else take the step. But wouldn't she be committing with the next priestess what she reproached of these devotees who surrounded her like prey, instead of salvation? The young girl pressed her lips together and her sight blurred, the feelings of her heart bound by duty and guilt, the eternal path a moment ago lasted only an instant when she stopped thinking, the moment she resigned herself, to the life about to be lost under her hands. A temple in the middle of the forest stood like a rose among wild flowers, but she knew that this reddish color was not for love, but for obedience. Immaculate filth. Arriving at the small esplanade in front of the temple, the devotees chanted with care, the young priestess dancing the steps of death. The chief priest who accompanied her did not take his eyes off her at any moment, satisfied with the spectacle. Finished the last rituals, the priest and the priestess entered through the main door of that mystical place, made of marble, silver and gold. But no matter how shiny, the blood marks contrasted with the same intensity that had left them there. They passed into a room so small that there could only enter one person, with a circular symbol in the center, the priestess walked until she reached the center, and there she could notice that the symbols were not drawn, but engraved on the floor, where the blood that would mark the end of the ceremony would run. In front of her, a window and the ceremonial dagger in her hands. That was all? This was all her life was worth? The time had come, but the buried feelings only resurfaced with the life they were trying to protect. I want to live. I want to live! I want to touch the clouds that caress the earth when the sun is barely awake, I want to drink from the rain that gives life with every drop, I want to grow until my hair turns silver and shines in the moonlight. I want to do everything that can be done, meet everyone I can meet. So what if his life stops the evil for a year? If it comes back anyway, what's the point of giving your life for a moment for others? The young girl clenched the dagger in her hands until they became one with her dress. She could not jump out of the window, as it was made to resist evil, what she had become, but the priest was only there to command the sacrifice of life, not the one who resisted, since they could not kill with their own hands. With determination, the young girl turned in haste and threw herself at the entrance with her whole body, however, the illusion of life lasted only the instant of thinking it. The priest was closer than she thought, and as she felt the life slipping through her fingers, she watched her hand clutched in the priest's hand. She had ended her life, just as it should be. And she understood why there was no precedent, why obedience, why... the possibility of hope.