text: [Themes: grimdark fantasy, fantasy]
  
  Anger is completely natural; unfortunately for you, the people of Endlemire don't appreciate your right to express yourself. When protesting your innocence doesn't get you very far, you up the scale of your misbehavior. It starts with simply talking back to your elders, and then goes on to calling people out on their behavior. While you are actually speaking the truth, you ignore any sense of tact or delicacy, partly because you're just a child, but mostly because you're getting angrier by the day. Eventually this reaches a breaking point.
  
  You are playing with a handful of children in the market square, their parents are huddled in a small group, talking to each other about the price of eggs and other such village matters. At the moment they don't seem to notice that their children are breathing the same air as you, let alone playing with you. You are actually having fun for the first time in ages when a little boy calls out to his mother in excitement. When she instinctively turns her head to respond, she sees her two precious children playing with you.
  
  Angry, she rushes into the group of children and grasps each of her children by the arm, pulling them away from their play despite their reluctance. She hands them over to the other parents and storms back to confront you. Glowering down at you from her adult height, she puts her hands on her hips.
  
  "How dare you play with my darlings, you filthy child!" she demands, her words causing you to flinch.
  
  "I wasn't doing anything wrong," you protest, trying to fight back the tears. The afternoon had been so lovely, and she is ruining it.
  
  "Nonsense. Playing with you is only going to hurt them."
  
  "I wasn't even touching them."
  
  "Impertinence! How dare you be impertinent to me!" In her anger at your rudeness, though you're not sure what you did wrong, she reaches to grab your arm, which you evade. Unfortunately for you this only gets her even more incensed. This time she goes for your ear, and you fail to get out of her grasp. It hurts! You cry out and beg to be released, but she ignores your cries. That is why you jerk your head to the side and bite her arm.
  
  She lets go of you.
  
  Not only does she release you, but she shoves you down on the ground and calls for aid. Soon a mob of adults surround you and drag you home. You're locked in the cellar while they decide your fate. You hear the harsh sounds of their voices going back and forth, though you cannot make out any of the words. You doubt anything good is being said. Father sounds angrier than you have ever heard him before, and your stomach begins to sink.
  
  You spend the next few days in almost complete solitude, locked in your room. Your room never had a lock on it before, so you're guessing Father had it put there during the time you were in the cellar. You only see him when he gives you your meals for the day: porridge for breakfast, two pieces of plain bread for lunch, and a paltry helping of vegetables and meat for supper. On the fourth day you are taken away by a stranger wearing all black; Father isn't even there to see you off as you're bundled into a very austere looking carriage.
  
  "Where are we going?" you ask. You've never been outside of Endlemire before.
  
  "Silence, child! I am not here to answer your questions." He then promptly ignores you, other than to glare at you any time you try to speak up. You spend a long trip staring at the man and wondering where you are going.
  
  Finally, the carriage stops at an imposing stone building surrounded by stone walls. Unlike many such buildings, it is completely functional without a hint of adornment. At first you are relieved to be at your destination, but this feeling doesn't last long. If you thought Father was strict, he was nothing compared to the people here. Disobedience is met with whippings and meals are withheld when the whippings fail to bring you to contrition. At least Father allowed you some small time to yourself, but now you are always surrounded by other children who had been as rebellious as you and the adults who are tasked with taming them. You, and these other children, are called 'The Compromised' by the adults, who in turn demand to be called 'The Keepers.'
  
  You spend most of your first days angry. During the next few weeks you learn to fear your own anger, and fall into sadness. But even this is considered misbehavior. Ingratitude is a sin, or so The Keepers tell you. Everything seems to be a sin other than strict obedience, humility, and selflessness. You and the other 'compromised' children find your lot in life quite difficult.
  
  This new life leaves you:
  
  > Receptive
  With a bit of internal struggle, you finally let go of your anger and simply accept what happens to you. You tuck away any feelings of resentment or injustice and keep your face blank, your body stiff, and your actions mechanical. While this fails to make you happy, it eventually leads to fewer beatings. As your behavior starts to replicate the Keepers' more and more, you find life easier, if not enjoyable. The older you get, the harder it is to remember why you were so angry; you live your life in a repetitive cloud of empty tranquility, but at least your physical scars have finally healed to thin white lines instead of remaining angry red welts.
  
  By the time you are twenty-five, your hair has gone pre-maturely white, almost as if the fire in your hair went out the same time as the fire in your heart. As an adult you become one of the Keepers in time, training the next generation of angry, 'compromised' children to be as empty as you are. In this you have some limited success, but every so often, in the middle of the night, you are gripped with a feeling of guilt, though you never tell this to a soul.
  
  Your life goes on, but your story has come to an end.