"Leo," my mom called out to me. I could hardly hear her soft voice over the booming thunder and crackling lightning. There was an earsplitting screech as she slowly opened the sliding door to our backyard.

"There's been an emergency at the hospital," she started, her voice, full of fear, was shaking as she spoke. My mother was one of the lead doctor at the biggest hospital in our city. "According to my boss, someone was having a party and their house was hit by lightning. Almost everyone that went there was injured, and now the hospital is in chaos!" She started pacing pack and forth across our rain drenched patio. My mother always reacted like this, even when only a little thing happened. She turned towards the sliding glass door and prepared to leave, but then turned back before she got inside. After looking at me for only a second, she spoke again.

"What are you doing out in this storm anyway? Get back inside!" With that, she turned away and left. I turned from the door and faced my training course once again. It wasn't much, just a smooth wooden board with aluminum cans scattered about it. My arm lifted my launcher up as I heard the muffled motor of my mom's car driving away.

"Let it RIP!" I shouted as I pulled the string of my beylauncher and sent my Killer Orso DF145 F flying forwards. The sound of thunder echoed throughout the sky soon after it clashed into the first can, distracting me and causing me to lose control over it, and sending it flying off of the board. This whole thing was pointless, I thought as I went to pick up my bey. The tournament was only a day away, and I was still probably the worst blader in town! Disappointed with my futile efforts, I walked back into the house, closed the door, and shook the rainwater out of my short, wavy brown hair. I looked back outside, and watched as lightning pierced through the night sky. The thunder was a evil voice, the voice of the universe mocking me and devilishly laughing at my ignorance.

The doorbell snapped me out of my thoughts. It's probably my mom, I thought as I walked towards the front door. She would always tend to forget things when she was stressed, and end up coming back to the house to get them. To my surprise, I opened the door and nobody was there. On the mat in front of the door was a small cardboard box, and it was addressed to me.

Not knowing what else to do with it, I brought it back inside and opened it up. Inside was a beyblade and a small index card size piece of paper. The words Carnage Kronos Omega 80 Metal Coat Sharp were typed on it. Carnage, the metal wheel, was painted black with red on the edges. It was heavier than most other wheels that I had seen, and it looked similar to Vulcan, except for the somewhat spiky but rounded ridges around it. Omega 80 was a track unlike any thing that I had ever seen. It was 80 millimeters tall but had 12 triangular, almost arrow like metal blades around it. Metal Coat Sharp was the same thing as Coat Sharp, except that the plastic was replaced with metal.

Full of excitement, I prepared to rush to the backyard in order to try it out. That was when I noticed that the card had more than just the name of the beyblade on it. On the bottom of the card, three words were written in an elegant cursive hand writing. Use it well. That was exactly what I planned to do.

"Let it RIP!" I shouted as soon as I got outside. Kronos flew off of the launcher with an astonishing burst of speed. The force from it almost knocked me backwards, causing me to hardly be able to control it. Despite this and the weather conditions, Kronos moved flawlessly around the board and smashed through all of the cans, thoroughly denting them in the process. Wood was flying throughout the air as Kronos bottom shred through it, leaving a trail of destruction behind it. Throughout this, it continued to gain speed and power, all the way up until I couldn't control it anymore. My grip was released from it and it flew off of the board and into the wall next to the door.

I ran over to retrieve it when I realized the damage I had done. The bottom portion of the wall, the place that it had hit, was almost completely destroyed. The force of the impact also cause the some of the glass on the door to shatter, and the rocks of the patio to crack. My young 12 year old eyes had never seen a beyblade with this much power! This is going to change everything! I thought. If I could just learn to fully control this, I could win that tournament easily! Now full of excitement, I screamed with joy, but as my scream died down, my mind darted to another thought and my green eyes shifted back to the wall. How was I going to explain this to my mom?

News Report: New Zealand – “A 52 year old man, Michael Hitchwell, was found deceased in a snow drift at Betrona ski resort. The ski marks show that he was travelling at tremendous speed prior to his death. The cause of his death has been determined to be as a result of a broken back but in suspicious circumstances. The police also found three other ski trails around the scene of his descent and death. The police are pleading for all witnesses to come forward with information. Police also found a small metal object next to him, circular in shape with ancient symbols and runes carved onto it. Cryptographers are baffled by what they mean. Now to other news a lion escaped from Victorvil….’’
A flash of static filled the television screen before returning to black.
“Mum! The TV’s not working again!” I trudged up to my room and flopped onto the bed. “Everything was different when dad was around.” I thought sadly to myself. Dad died six months earlier and it still hurt to think about him. With nothing else to do I got up and started browsing the net. The door-bell rang waking me from my trance.
“I’ll get it”, I yelled to Mum as I raced down to the door.
As I opened the door a man who was dressed in a tuxedo with a limousine parked in the driveway, said “You are invited to the reading of Mr Michael Hitchwell’s will” he stated,
“If you come with me know it will change your life forever”. The word forever echoed in my head.
“Hey mum!” I called out, “I’m going out to play with Frank. Is that alright?” I didn’t hesitate and ran straight into the back of the limo. The man quickly followed and upon getting into the driver’s seat advised “We’ll be there in a few minutes”. I didn’t hear a thing though as I was too busy looking out the window and pushing all the buttons to listen.
By the time I had figured out where all the snacks were kept we had pulled in to an enormous driveway which led to an old stone Manor.
The man opened my door and said, “Follow me Sir. I will show you to the parlour.” The manor was definitely creepy with spider webs covering the windows and rock crumbling from the brick walls. I wasn’t so sure that I wanted to go any further. I took a deep breath and I walked into a large auditorium. The room was packed and the air was buzzing with excitement.
“Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The announcement of who gets the ancient and priceless artefacts from the estate of the late Count Michael Hitchwell”. There was deathly quiet and I took the opportunity to look around. I saw my best friends, Frank and Mozy sitting right up the front. Now I was really freaked out. Not wanting to be sitting alone I crept up the front and found a seat next to Mozy.
”How the hell did you get here?” I whispered.
“Probably the same way you came, by limo.” Mozy replied.
Before I could find out any more, the executor of the will announced, “Now for his most precious possession. If you were shown here by limousine stay here, if you weren’t then please leave through the back doors.” Groans of disgust escaped from the people leaving the room. Only three of us remained in the room. Frank, Mozy and I looked at each other with excitement.
The executor said, “Frank and Mozy please leave through the back doors to receive your entitlement.” Frank and Mozy were eager to see what it was and vanished quickly. When they had left the executor, “Victor, here is your legacy. Use it wisely”. She opened the palm of her hand and the same object that I had seen appear on the news was there. “Take it!’’ she snapped.
As I took the strange looking object the world around me changed. I was no longer in the manor house but in a barren world covered with purple dust. The executor suddenly transformed from a young woman into a snarling beast. “Now”, she said, “Let’s battle!”

Day 12762 in Hell;
I am looking up at the night sky through my pitch black hair, reminiscing that fateful day that death took my life into his cold, chilling hand. If there even is a day and night here, or even the passing of time for that matter. The sun is up so scarcely in the sky that the people here had forgotten that there even is one. There is no moon either, just a black sky, a sky as black as, well, black. The night sky is always used as a metaphor for black, so what metaphor can I use to describe it? I often wonder these things, the inner workings of the mind and the world, and how easily and quickly both can change. I am writing this passage to keep myself sane, to stop my mind from becoming so incapable of work that you do not know who you are any longer. I have seen those who are, as we have labelled them, clinically insane, and shudder to think that I may become one of them. Yet sometimes I cannot tell if what I am doing is right of wrong, my mind goes blurry and everything blends into one single, useless mush. The path to insanity varies greatly, which is what makes it so hard to detect. For some, it is a sudden change of events in which the patient cannot recover. For others, it is a slow and tedious process, drawn out over the progress of many months. Firstly your mind starts to blur, you have trouble concentrating and you randomly start doing things you would normally not, draw for instance. I have seen the beautiful yet gruesome pictures which people who have been labelled as ‘clinically insane’ have drawn, pictures of their beys being broken, destroyed. Their fusion wheels chipped and their spin tracks cut clean in half. Terrible and horrifying bit-beasts erupting from their beys, their eyes seeking to destroy everything. These type of pictures signify the movement to the second stage of insanity; violence. Violence, humanities one great sin. As the patient moves into this stage they began to become aggressive, irritable. They turn on the people they love most, and that first hint of what will become of them appears. Then, they kill. No longer are they of the right mind, all of what they once were is lost and replaced with anger and depression, viciousness. This third stage is the point of no return, once a patient reaches this stage there is no stopping the progress of insanity. In the third stage the pictures of what they drew in the first stage come true, they do the most unthinkable and self-depriving thing anyone could ever do. They destroy their own bey. Often once this has happened, the patient become so riddled with regret of the loss of their beloved bey, they hand themselves over to death, when his hand openly takes them and brings them here, to where no human has ever returned from. Hell. That is the great and almighty change between life and death. Insanity. But then again, everyone is it, it is the most deadly killer of them all, it attacks without warning, without mercy, and changes normal and peaceful men and women into violent, spiteful machines for Satan’s army. Yet here I sit, watching over those lost to the curse if insanity and mourning for their loss. Insanity in the world of beyblades is as common as supermarket chips, only one has ever escaped its hold, Ryuuga. So maybe there is some hop for all of us, trapped down here. Maybe someday, we will be like our hero Ryuuga and return to the surface, and live another life.

There was a beyblade tournament in NYC and many people wanted to go and they signed up for it. But there were so many participants not many could go. They were thinking about cancelling it but they only made 6 people go. The names of these 3 lucky people were Bob, J.K, James, Emily, Jared, and Sophia. Sophia thought she could win but when the matches came up, it was a big disaster. Sophia a 13 year old, was going against Bob a 19 year old who had won 3 tournaments in NYC. Sophia had gone to many tournaments and never won and always lost to J.K or Bob. She didn't want to lose against him again so decided to do something that nobody would do. She secretly went over to Bobs bag and did something to it...
(to be continued)