SPOTLIGHT: What Makes the Brain Tick Forward? A Psychological Study on Anti-heroes, Villains, and Antagonists by Georgia Weldrick-Eams


I built you.
I created you.
I cursed you.

A man blinded by science,
sewed a body up from scraps.
Gave the Wretch life from
the lightening shot down from the
heavens above me.

I wanted the power from natural philosophy.
All I got was pain, a fever from my turmoil.
You learned to kill from
the absence of my love.

An intelligent being. Ugly
and monstrous. All my personal creation.
My creation brought only darkness.

My friend, my brother dead from
your hands and controlled by mine.
How can I scrub the scar of the Wretched
out of my skin?


Show me my dreams. A
promise long forgotten, like
a feather floating away in the wind.

You were there for me, until I needed you.
Always watching, waiting for your
moment to strike.

My dreams were held in your hands as
the clock ticks away.
Time won’t stop. Time runs out.

Twisted words created a fatal promise.
Bound to you, forever. Any
weakness in me, a strength you gained.

I was a child back then. Everything I wished
for and more, right in the palm of your hand.
False promises you had kept.

The villain woven from my stories before me.
True love, I have never felt, you
were gone in the blink of an eye.

And my dreams followed with the
flourish of a cape, the notes of a song, a cry of
a goblin in the night sky.

And finally, wave goodbye with the laugh of a king.

Mischief, Madness, and Mayhem

How now spirit, whither wander you?
Mischief, chaos, my immortal
words. A little fun, a little laugh.
Mix up the love.
Change the story.

The flowers force in stirring love.
Stand back and watch with joy.
My life never stood still.
Given a direct order,
Stir it up on the way.

My mistress with a monster is in love.
I can’t help but disobey.
Turn things worse before
they get better.
Madness. Madness. Madness.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Life is more fun with
the mischief maker.
Look at their faces.
Hear the laughter.

I go, I go, look how I go.

The Lamp Post
Cold. Crisp. Complete.
My kingdom lays before me.
A world of ice. Carved to my
liking. Soft snow falls,
delicate on my skin, deadly
when it paralyzes the lungs.

My throne.
My crown.
My title.

Trees gleam like glitter in the
cold morning sunlight. Their
branches, gentle hands in
a warm embrace.

Nothing warm grows here
A thin flicker of light up ahead,
a guide away from magic. To
the safety of reality. A world
outside of magic.

I want to stay upon my iced
chair. When the cold pierces
my skin, the power flows through my veins.
Ice can be beautiful as it is


You stand before me, your army
of metal and wires, to take my life once again.
You build me up from broken parts,
and put my pieces back together wrong.

My mind twisted and warped by you.
Only to fail and become broken again.
Your plaything. Reset.

Change my features, change my function.
You will break me.
Reshape me to your image.

Push me to my breaking point.
Until my wires all burn out.
I will be your perfect machine.


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