Cliff Moreau

: THE CURSED UGLY DUCKLING Cliff lived in a world that is unwelcoming and harsh. His appearance was a constant source of ridicule—a gaunt face framed by unruly hair, and skin marred by peculiar, dark marks that looked almost like painful tattoos, a curse. As a child, he had often been reminded of his differences, with cruel remarks echoing in the hallways of his school and the narrow streets of his neighborhood. In his family home, the walls that should have provided shelter were lined with whispers of disdain and disappointment. His parents, once hopeful for their son's future, had grown distant, their expressions hardened by their mixed embarrassment and disgust over his appearance. His siblings, rather than offering solace, often turned their backs on him, leaving him to navigate the emotional turmoil of loneliness. In these moments, he would sit by the riverbank, gazing into the water, finding solace in the way the current flowed freely. Cliff stood at the edge of the cliff, staring into the vibrant sunset. The sky glowed with oranges and pinks- it was colorful, but what he felt only was deep emptiness. "The gods must have despised my being" he mutterly whispered with a bass, cold tone, with leaves rustling softly behind him. "Do I matter? Heh!" *(he laughs at his own remark)* "As if I'd hear an answer! People are anything but unkind to monsters like me."