iLive: Stories From the Prison Called Life

A realistic tale filled with divergent emotions and twisted events. Three humans on the run forced to live in constant fear and utter despair. Captives in between walls, isolated from the rest of the world because of a bunch of criminal minds. Is it true that there is nowhere to hide? Is there anyone they could trust? Freedom is a right of all of us. A phycological thriller only for fans.

Title: iLive
Subtitle: Stories From the Prison Called Life
Author: Cristina G.
176 pages

In love with the petrichor

My name is Beatrix, but you may call me Bea. I’m 40, single, and utterly alone in this world.
Although I love animals, I can’t afford to raise any. My salary barely covers my rent and bills. There are loads of humans in a much worse situation than mine, so I can’t complain.                                                                 
It was a Sunday in February of 2017. People were resting, spending time with their families, having trips and fun. I was working to fulfil a dream I didn’t even know I had until a year before. Sitting on my bed, with the laptop on my lap, I write tale after tale after tale.
My story appears extraordinary to most; to me is just a story. Everything I’ve done in my life wasn’t a choice, was a duty.
Born from two people who should have never met and have children, I was kept away from affection, kindness, and support. To this day, I still don’t know what having a family and love feels like. However, I know that the sun will start shining on my path too, it has to. Not yet though. Now it’s heavily raining both outside and inside my soul.
In the eyes of my friends, I’m a very happy person. Nobody imagines what and how I really feel. Not that they should, it’s my problem, not theirs. They have enough on their plates too. Life is hard. Life is … life.
It was 9 am, and I’ve been awake for three hours already. I was tired despite the fact I haven’t done much since getting up. I love Morpheus’s dreamland, and I’d probably stay there for at least twelve hours a day. Actually, I’d stay forever if I had the chance.
I was hungry, so I got out my bed (my work office) and made myself a toast. I always loved toasts, but I don’t eat bread very often to avoid getting weight. My physical appearance is the only tangible thing I own, and I take excellent care of it. I must preserve it for as long as possible. Without it, I count nothing.
I ate walking along the living room because my butt hurts from too much sitting. As I mentioned, the bed was my chair, and my lap was the desk I kept the laptop on. I had an empty room I could have used as an office, but it was too cold in there. My fingers must be warm in order to type the words. It was freezing cold in the living room too, but I was in there only for a few minutes a day. Keeping the heat on in the entire house wasn’t doable because of my financial situation. Besides, the windows were not double-glazed, and the heat dispersion was massive. The bedroom was the only warm room in the quirky flat situated right in the hearts of the city.
People often asked me how I can afford to live alone in a place like that. Some even wanted to come and live with me because of the strategic location of this beautiful unit. The truth is I had no choice. I thought about getting a housemate many times, but upon great reflection, I decided it wasn’t such a good idea. I’m a writer you see, silence is vital for me. Any noise interrupts the flow of my creations. That’s also why I keep my phone switched off all the time too. I’m not twenty anymore and can’t afford to waste a second of my time. A flatmate would have, yes, helped me pay the rent and bills, but at the same time would have ruined my peace. Dividing the cost of the house with a living being would have resulted in a much more expensive solution than it was then. Not worth it.

Writing is my destiny, and I’m sacrificing everything to fulfil it. I live in a complete isolation without TV, radio, or other forms of entertainment. I stopped going out, holding parties all of a sudden. That made me lose old and new friendships, but I couldn’t continue living without breathing like before. I had a dream and a purpose. Time is merciless so, it was now or never for me. 


To read more click here and leave a review to help Cristina give a better life to her octogenarian parents who survived the Second World War. 

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