I have been cursed since I was born. I had an extraordinary ability.

When I was four, I drew a realistic drawing of a dying bird. The pure white feathers, dyed by the reddish blood was a terrifying yet an attractive scene. My parents were fascinated. They thought I was gifted. But I did not tell them that I drew it from my nightmares.

When I was six, I could not resist the desire to paint anymore. My parents brought me art liners and pigments despite our financial capabilities. I immediately drew a dying cat. It was my instinct to draw any scary vision that appeared in my dreams. I was said to be the youngest professional artist that ever existed in the world, for I was so skillful that it made every painting become life. I was reported as a child philosopher who miraculously understood the meaning of life.

When I was ten, we held an establishment of my amazing drawings. But still I did not tell anyone about my nightmares. On the last day of the establishment, a stranger with black coat touched my back and whispered in my ear, “You‘re more than just an artist, you’re a prophet.” I looked blindly in his mysterious eyes. “You will know what I mean….. one day.”

And now I knew what the stranger meant. In front of me was the dead body of the pigeon I once drew. The day before, I saw a cat which got hit by a speeding car. It all happened similar to my dream.

Now I have been forced to think about free will and death, for I had drawn my own portrait before. In my latest art work, a young boy was standing blindly in front of a mirror with a pair of scissors in his hands.