Novels by Arch Scribe

So, hello. Shitty day it's been, almost got blown up in a shootout, coz some fuckin retard let go of his grenade near a fuckin crate full of those! As always, I'm out alive, S-tier luck is my trademark on that kind of bs. Death missed me again, for now, the dance with the reaper is on till I'm down on my meta. Omens aside, got hit in left arm by shrapnel, singular, reminder something so tiny is gonna have me below n rotting in a grave too, if lucky to be buried. Life got no considerations for weak or strong, just or unjust; when you're out, maggots or whatever still munch till all testimony to your being is fucking whatever identifiable left, and even that's a grace. Many aren't esteemed and are denied the dignity to return to dust, they end up as odd stews or disposed in revulsing ways. Really not worth knowing some worth stuff if you know even your remains won't find solace, but frankly, one shouldn't care bout that. We all live to die, after the ultimate extreme you're no differe

Good morning, my name is Eicei. I am 8 years old and I live with my parents and brothers. My father's name is Zev Hylan Hovden Dre and my mother's name is Klaudia Sheyn Aveel Dre, and my brothers names are Wallace and Hallahaad. Wallace is younger than me and Hallahaad is younger than Wallace. The name of my school is G.E.P.P.S and it's found in Bonamoussadi, it means Government English Practicing Primary School, and I am in Class 3. My mother is a teacher and my father is a journalist. I like reading books and also playing games on my father's machine. It is a big white computer made of plastic which has many games inside. My favorite game is Spiderman, I play it everytime I get on dady's computer. My father also has a black central unit, but it is bad. When I put it on it doesn't the screen is black and it shocks me so i play on the white computer. It has an operating system called Windows xp, it was made by Bill Gates. My father also has a book about Windows, and it is called Pro

What to write? Hmm. Annoying. Just write. Need more chips. Get 'em after. Whoever finds this, don't care, but whatever. Don't really see this getting into hands that ain't mine. Know to whom diary belongs, wouldn't be reading if u didn't. Doesn't even look like one jfc, scribbles. Nevermind. If you're reading this, u r either my descendant, someone close, or an unknown who found mess I'm writing in. Too confused in some parts, got scattered pages from previous books wrote in, lackluster at times. Dealing with stuff, chaotic. Incoherent to most what I write anyways, need thought when reading, low n not wanting to correct shit. Thinking of, might not have made it alive, or may have, would explain if u got it without going through me, or got it from me. Trying to see things clearly. Time is tortuous, too many splits in the stream, but kept track of my course, in a way. So, idk, can judge mine, but honestly idc. Think so far did what I could to change this shithole, so, perhaps, who kno