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A child no older than four years old laid against me shivering and crying. I was 10, my families village just got destroyed and I was given the girl to watch. It was  the middle of December, or as our village called it, the month of survival. It snowed from sun up to sun down, never ending, we had to survive in a tiny village of just 20 people. Our village went up in a smokey, fiery tornado. This little girl was scared and clinging to me, I was running through the woods, panting, tired, and obviously out of shape. I eventually got to another village where a kind old woman tool me and the girl in and made us food.
"I'm Jake," I said, setting the girl down who ran to a small couch with a really warm looking blanket thrown over it, "I'm from the village on snow peak, my village went up in flames. I only got myself and the girl out safely. She was the youngest, I am 10 the oldest in my village," the woman listened to my explanation before smiling warmly.
"You can stay with my till you are old enough to go out as an adult," the woman said, bending over to wrap the now sleeping girl in a blanket.

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I lay in my cave, which for hundreds of years, sat next to a small kingdom, I don't bother them they don't bother me. One day as invaders take over a soldier, barely clinging to life. He had a bundle of blankets in his arms. He lays the bundle down by my feet and I see the blue face of the princess, cold from the winter air whipping through the mountain and trees, colder than the winter below in her village.
"Please," the soldier slurred, struggling to speak in his last few minutes of life, "please, look over... look..... over the princess," he wheezed, gasping to finish his sentence.
I raise my head to look at him, then back at the little girl in front of me, gently wrapping her in my tail, knowing as a dragon I am warmer than the weak, frail little girl. "And what makes you think that I, a massive dragon, can care for a small human born in the summer of last year?"
"Please," he begs again, with what little strength he has he hands me two letters and a pouch of riches, all the riches he could salvage before his attempt to run to freedom, then he collapsed on the ground, his breathing stops. I sigh, holding on to the once princess, not sure when, or even if, that title will mean anything soon. I realize the girl is alone now and can't care for herself, I decide to do what I can till she can care for herself.
I drag the dead soldier to the cliff by my cave, after taking his clothes for when the girl gets bigger and the rucksack he has on his back, opening it's filled with clothes for the girl and things that will fit for a long time, I then throw his body off the cliff.
The little girl had awoken while I was removing the stuff from this man and she suckled on the tip of my tail, "I'm stuck with this tiny human for a few years," I groaned at the thought.
Once I got back to my cave and settled the child into a pile of the riches I opened the letters given to me by the soldier. One letter was to me asking me to teach the girl things from her parents, It was brief obviously the last written of the two letters, the other letter was to the girl when she was older 2 small pictures of her parents and her brother, all who perished during the invasion, were there. I closed the letter and stuck it into the front of the rucksack for when she was older.
As the years passed I started to grow quite fond of having a human around, they were fascinating to watch. The princess is now 7 and I've taught her all I know about her kind. Soon though, I'll have to help her regain her kingdom, as the rightful ruler, I can't have her around her all the time it gets far too cold during the winters for me to eat much since I have to stay with her for her to not die of the cold.

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The gag I was born into kidnapped a noblewoman, I, however, didn't want a part in this or agree with it. That night I gave the women some warm clothes and helped her escape, before she fled she looked at me and said, "thank you, I will remember this kindness," then she fled into the night.
Years later a terrible winter hit, everyone in the gang of my family was knocking on deaths door or already dead. Somehow though I was completely okay, I even went outside once in a thin tank top, and old, ripped shorts, yet didn't even get cold.
"Ray, get inside the house," a voice boomed behind me, dad's voice. I walked inside the house and grabbed the thermometer and pressed it to my head.
It beeped twice and I looked down at the tiny screen, 98.8 it read. "Huh. it's normal," I walked to my mom and asked her, "what is wrong with me? I'm not cold ever I went outside like this," with a gesture to my clothes, "I didn't even get cold."
"I don't know, maybe the snow queen likes you for what you did that night five years ago," my mom is the only one who knows about me helping the woman, as she was once a nobel women herself... you see, my grandparents had abducted her for my dad to be his wife. My mom never got stockholm, I believe it is her incredible mental strength.
"Maybe..." I said, pulling out my phone and searching on Google, 'Snow Queen' and went to images...I gasped as I saw the same woman from 5 years ago staring back at me from my phone screen... she did remember, and she's helping me stay alive.

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nailed to the floor and the chair strapped to the table with a thick chain so it could barely move, also, filling the room was a small, twin-sized, wrought iron bed, which was also secured to the floor. There was a small window with wrought iron bars standing in front of it like guards. Light bulbs didn’t exist commonly yet, and there were no candles in the room, so as the sun slowly fell behind the horizon the room grew cold and dark. A small bit of orange, flickering light came through the window on his door occasionally as nurses, doctors, and security guards walked down the hall, some going home; some checking patients. However, the crescent moon threw pale bluish light in through the windows, like a thin oddly shaped blanket.

Manic laughter and screams flooded through the halls from patients occupying other rooms. However, unlike the screaming, and laughing people surrounding him, the boy sat staring at the wall. A lady walked in, wearing a blue sweater over a long blue dress like the other female patients, unlike the boy she wasn’t in a straight jacket, and she jumped on him.

“Why do you follow me everywhere?” she screamed while clawing at his exposed skin, which was really only his neck and face. With the straight jacket pinning his arms to him he was trapped, left to endure whatever this woman wanted to do to him, as his only defense was his hands, the woman’s weight held his legs down and he knew if he opened his mouth it would turn into a blood bath with these woman’s claws. A nurse and security guard rushed in as the shrieks of the woman and boy drifted to them. The guard grabbed the woman and lifted her up as the nurse plunged a needle into her arm, causing her to yelp, and the thick, gooey, clear liquid was pushed into the woman’s body. The men took the boy’s straight jacket off and placed it on the woman before leaving with the woman leaving the boy bloody and clawed with no help.

After the nurses had time to discuss the events of last the previous night, the two workers who brought in the boy led the others to believe that the boy had, somehow, caused the attack on himself, he was then placed in the isolation box. He sat in the cage-like box rocking back and forth and whispering to himself. As nurses came to check on him and noticed his voice changing they started to believe the men who had brought him in that he was, indeed, possessed. They sent for a priest, who came quite quickly, to exorcise the boy, as the boy was removed from the box, and once again his straight jacket, once in The Room, his arms, and legs were tied to a wrought iron bed in the room. The room, as the workers called it, was filled with nothing but a wrought iron bed, means to restrain a patient, crosses, a bible, and was only big enough for the person on the bed and 4 others.

The priest began asking for the “demons’” names and got a faint reply from the boy. As the priest kept asking for the names the boy shouted, “please sir! Let me go home to my mother! She’s all I have, I’m all she has. My dad and siblings all died before I was born. Please sir, let me return to my mother!” he screamed louder at the end, his voice cracked as he began to sob, all he wanted was his mother.

“Don’t worry son, you will return to your mother soon,” the priest cried out, as he continued to “exorcise” the boy.

The boy screamed and begged the priest to stop, the boy was getting scared he didn’t understand, all he knew was, he wasn’t possessed. The voices in his head started to yell things they never have before, terrifying things, horrible things.

“You’re gonna die… We’re not demons. We’re in your head, we have always been here. Always. You’re gonna die, you’re gonna die because of these idiots,” were a few things said before there was a deep snarl like sound in his head and the voices started chanting, “die die you’re gonna die. Die die you’re gonna die...” over and over again. The boy screamed as he shook violently, attempting to stop the voices. Which, the priest mistook for demons fighting against his religious chants and casting outs and the nuns praying over him.

The boy was only bones, with skin clinging to them, forming to their shape, like a table cloth thrown over a wrought iron fence, clinging as a child would to its mother. The boy was dehydrated, starving, and tired after the two-week-long, never-ending “exorcism” and his body was too weak to do anything.

With his last bit of life Tobias cried out, “dis is the end fer me tell my mother tha gaol agam ort,” which roughly translates to I love you. As he finished his sentence, his body fell limp against the restraints, his breathing and struggling ceased, he had died.

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A boy sat staring at the wall, mumbling, occasionally swatting at the air as if to get something or someone to leave him alone, his brown, messy hair falling in his honey brown eyes as he swatted the air. His mom, pale, with blue eyes sunken into her face from the times she would stay up at night worried for her son, brown hair messily thrown over her frail, weak shoulders, had requested the asylum to send people to help her son a week before. Suddenly two men in white lab coats came into the home and carried the boy to a small, cramped, horse-drawn carriage that was only big enough to fit the three people closely together, like sardines in a can. It was the first asylum, and the boy was the first child to go to an asylum. As the boy’s Philadelphia home slowly faded into the distance the boy looked around, for the first time truly taking in what was happening.

“ I don know where they are taking me or who they are,” the boy yelled in a thick Scottish accent while facing no one, “I don know stop accusing me of dis I don like yeu,” as ‘you’ fell off the boy’s lips he lunged for the asylum worker closest to him.

“What the f***?!” the man yelled in shock, “get this psycho off of me!”

“Who are yeu? What do yeu want from us?” a female voice came from the boy, with the same thick accent.

“He’s possessed. we need to get him into the room,” the other worker shouted attempting to pull the boy, who was now scratching and mauling the other worker drawing blood.

“No! Don’t pull he’s hurting me,” he shrieked.

“Die! Die! Die!” the boy screamed, eventually, the other worker got the boy off and wrapped him in a straight jacket, pinning his arms to his chest with the leather straps like a cage holding him. The boy started to cry and looked out the window.

“I don know what is happening, don hurt me,” the boy sobbed, once again, to no one.
Once at the Pennsylvania Hospital, the men took the boy to a small, cramped room filled so there was almost no walking space with a small chair and table, with the table...

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Luna was born with a birthmark in the shape of a "9" on her wrist 16 years ago. As she sits in a nightclub in Germany drinking with her friends, she notices the time, 11.59. So, she and her friends paid for their drinks and left each going home. Leah got into an Uber and they got into a fatal accident where the car lifted up from the ground and flipped a few times before smashing into a tree. The driver died on impact, as did Leah.
Leah's parents had her put onto life support, as they weren't ready to let their baby go. Half a year later, as the parents were finally coming to terms with her death and were about to remove Leah from life support, she blinked awake and looked around starting to breath on her own. The doctors rushed in at her mother's shocked scream, and they gasped in shock, as Leah had been brain dead the entire time.
Leah held up her frail wrist and saw the 9 tattoo had changed to an 8. The doctor's removed her ventilator and offered her water. Once Leah got released from the hospital she looked into what the birthmark meant. She was a rare type of human with more than one life. Unlike other humans, where they have a small chance of being revived with a defibrillator and CPR, she can die completely and comeback with all memory of the traumatic event and if CPR can bring her back she won't lose a life.