DeMoNiCLiFe

Chapter #1 Training It was cold, and I mean really cold. The wind whipped through my thin orange jumpsuit as I lined up with everyone else. The "punchers" lined up across from us. They were decked out in fancy outfits that kept them warm and served as armor, although they didn't need it. If any of us hurt them we would be killed, or at least thats what I think. No "punching bag" has ever dared to hurt a puncher. I looked at the number pinned to the front of my jumpsuit. There were 40 people in our division of the institute. 20 punchers, and 20 punching bags. Today I was number 15. No one ever bothered to give us (as in the punching bags) n

My Art I love to draw. When I draw I feel limitless. When I draw nothing holds me back, except for my lack of experience, but I can overcome that. I love the way it feels to draw. I love the "shwoosh" of paper under pencil. My art keeps me sane. With my art I can let go, and be me. Even if I'm just scribbling a sketch. Even if my art isn't good. I'll never give it up.