Short Story - Blog Posts

The Shining Poppy - A Story I Wrote For School And Ended Up Liking

The streets are lined in colour, bright but politely asking for my attention. The sky provides a warm caress, paired with soft wind which comforts my every step. Towering shadows from those around pattern the sun’s rays but still bless me with a warmth not unlike a gentle embrace.

There are no dark shadows here, only the evidence of my company. The light emanating from my skin is proof enough of the sunshine already inside me, yearning to feel the soft touch of scarlet petals against it.

Every smile or gesture is a wave of warm red, a wave of kind electricity through my body, energizing the next step I take.

Over worn footpaths. Over softened gravel.

My steps do not falter, only taking me where I’m supposed to go. Following the ever-changing paths weaving before me, created by determination.

I continue on. Over cerulean puddles. Over unheeded grass.

Through this field of poppies.

= = = = = = = = = =

Nothing has really changed, yet it’s all different. There are still poppies in every direction. Uniform and swaying with the world. The very same world that looks at me with distain.

The poppies curl away from the sunshine barely dribbling from my lips, the light still seeping from my gift. I bring it to my chest, forcing the light through my wounds but it doesn’t hold, it falls with the red deep inside me and litters the floor with fading beams of light. The wall in front of me is gone, replaced by another poppy, petals loose but facing away from me as if in disgust.

The sun no longer holds me in its warmth but burns me like firewood.

I stand in the field, lit aflame like a wildfire, but the poppies around my feet do not catch, do not spread the flames and burning. They whisper, blowing my fire around like rope, pushing it to wrap around my limbs and seep into my skin.

Every breath or glance is a wave of hot, sharp red, a wave of harsh fire through my body.

Over cracked glass. Over shattered asphalt.

My steps falter, taking me further into the field. The path is gone, only poppies in my way.

Over pools of red, crimson not scarlet. Over burning paper and flesh and light.

Through this field of poppies.

= = = = = = = = = =

The present, a gift of language and letter, is accompanied by the tentative morning light. No less than thrown to me but still gifted with an air of importance and significance. I open it, and the room is lit by the comforting sunshine contained within. With every word I read, the room gets brighter. The sun begins its trek across the once starry sky, and I feel warmer every second.

The world is brighter today.

The sky and the grass smile at me, each step leaving my sunshine in its wake. The poppies along my journey seem to turn to greet me, even if I miss the subtle curl of their petals in aversion and the swish of their stalks in whisper. The sun watches, extending a shining hand out to reach the light I can only call my own. Like calls to like, just as the sun calls to my sunshine. And like the sun itself, I shine my light onto the world beneath me.

I run through the crowds of people, the stalks of flowers, excusing every jostle or shove when I push through. The patches of shadows sway with my movements, ruffled but unbothered, their owners standing solid.

Among the red, a wave of familiarity hits me like a firm embrace. Warm, strong, and familiar. The sunshine under my skin claws at me, dragging its warmth through my body. It presses against my tongue and teeth, pushing for release. It grows brighter with each step towards the normality in an ocean of innocuity.

The passive waves crash on a shore of neutrality, and I walk to my sandcastle of connectivity. Another scarlet red, uniform but unique.

My steps come to a halt, my sandcastle before me, and the gentle waves do not stop. The sunshine pushes harder now, threatening to tear me open, but at the slightest shimmer from the castle, I relent.

My mouth opens and sunshine pours out, shining and twinkling with each movement of my lips. It’s warm and soft and welcoming.

But rather than the soft but strong sandcastle or a blooming poppy like the crowds around me, the sunshine meets a wall. It’s harsh and grey and rough like concrete, and the light disappears when it meets.

I falter at the stillness, the sunshine going with it.

Then the wall opens, just a crack, and razor blades fly. The little remaining sunshine reflects off each pristine blade, glaring in my eyes as the blades shoot and soar past me. They slice my skin when they pass and leave crimson slashes all over my body. It’s burning, my skin and my eyes are burning, and I wish I never let the sunshine out to begin with.

= = = = = = = = = =

Before me are the fields of red, where poppies grow. I watch them climb and bloom, impossibly fast but yet slow enough to watch each unique flower spread its flushed red palms. The tops brush against my mid-calf. No higher, and no lower. A sea of uniformity, moving together in the wind.

My eye is caught by a certain poppy in the distance, daring to reach past the rest of the red sea. The shine of light emanating from the bloom draws me to it and I begin to step closer; the flowers rooted at my feet shifting to avoid me. I stop when I reach the shocking scarlet bloom, bigger and brighter than the rest. Warm light, not unlike sunshine, pours from between the petals. It feels familiar, but makes me squint my eyes in disgust, the light now uncomfortable and unwelcome.

My hands go cold as the wind turns, and I harshly yank the flower from the ground.

The stem snaps, an unclean pull, and I watch the flower in my palm.

I watch as the light drains from the petals.

I watch it, and it wilts away.

Secret Valentine's

This is my entry for the event hosted by @writeblrcafe! It was fun doing something like this again :)

This is my gift for @kittrrrr.

Word Count: 1610

---

"Can you cut it out?" Aren snaps, breaking his concentration. The cobalt glow emanating from his calloused palms shrinks to a pinprick. A soft sigh escapes his lips as tension leaves his body. "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm trying to get this done, and if you distract me, it's gonna go wrong. I don't fancy having to deal with another zombie, thanks very much."

Gracie-Mae crouches down. "Why don't we just leave this guy here? It's not like we're getting paid." She unsheathes a jagged dagger with a gleaming topaz embedded into the hilt.

He glances at the limp body in front of him. By all means, Gracie-Mae was right. Nobody was paying them anything. They had no obligation to offer their services. He could just stand up now, say he did what he could. Maybe they could hit the pub on their way back. There was a drink somewhere with his name on it, probably accompanied by bad decisions and a faceless figure in bed with him. Then he'd find Gracie-Mae later on, figure out what he got up to, then move onto the next village.

And yet...

He couldn't just leave this guy here. He probably had a family or something. Not quite old enough for a wife and kids, but maybe a pet? Or he might still live with his parents and siblings. In which case, Aren definitely couldn't just leave this guy.

Cobalt light floods the entirety of his palms as he lays them flat on the man's chest. Aren breathes in, then out, then in again. With each breath, the man's body begins to glow with that same light. He keeps going. In his gut, he feels the familiar tug of a rope and he grabs onto it, following the rope to wherever it shall lead him.

On the other side was an ugly, black mass of gunk latched onto the guy's lung. It pulsates with each breath Aren takes, convoluted green light spilling out from the gaps and spreading towards him. It creaks and groans like an old squeaky door, but moves at an incredible speed. He stamps his foot down on it, wincing in disgust at the atrocious squelching noise it makes in response.

He approaches the black gunk and, with a swift flick of his wrist, causes it to dissipate in an explosion of blue. Aren is yanked back out and into reality. He heaves, leaping to his feet and peering over the man's face.

"Did you do it?" Gracie-Mae whispers. She, too, stares at the corpse in front of them. "He still looks kinda dead."

"Give it a minute."

And, surely enough, there's a quiet groan and two green eyes stare up at the two of them. They're hazy and unfocused, but then the man blinks a few times and his pupils thin. He sits up. The man studies the two of them silently, his expression remaining blank and unreadable. It's mildly surprising; a man dressed this well shouldn't be so good at hiding like this from criminals.

Maybe he's dipped his foot into the criminal world enough times for a few instincts to be ingrained into him.

"Who are you two?" The man's voice is hoarse, as most newly-resurrected people's voices are at first, but sweet. It washes over Aren, coating him in that sickly sweetness. The mild accent there caused inflections on the vowels.

"Aren," He says, holding out his hand. "And that's my sister, Gracie-Mae." The man slowly lifts his shaking hand and takes Aren's, pulling himself up with it. "What's your name?"

The man looks startled at such a question being asked. His eyes go wide, lips parting in thought, and if that isn't just the sweetest thing he'd ever seen. A moment passes, and then he responds, "I'm Carter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Carter." Aren says.

Gracie-Mae rolls her eyes. Her eyes flash with an electric yellow, the air around her crackling and sparking. Carter swallows nervously. She presses her thumb to his forehead and mutters under her breath. Carter winces, then stands up straighter.

"To give you the rundown, here's what happened to you: a guy - drunk, lazy, unimportant - got mad at you for something. I dunno if you owe him money or had an affair with his wife, but he was pissed. He saw you leaving the tavern-" She points at the building behind them- "and got an idea. He whacked you on the head with a broken beer bottle. It wasn't pretty. He hit you a few more times to get the job done." Gracie-Mae pauses. She meets Aren's eyes. "We saw you, and decided to give you a hand."

Carter fumbles for an apology, but Aren cuts him off. "It wasn't easy, mind you. You had this weird thing on one of your lungs I had to get rid of. Real creepy, that thing. But the point is, you're alive and well." He slings his arm around Carter's shoulder and starts to walk him down the street. He glances over his shoulder at Gracie-Mae, and winks. She sighs but lets him go. He knows she'll still be watching.

To his credit, Carter doesn't look uncomfortable or scared at being taken down the street by a complete stranger. In fact, he seems completely relaxed. He walks without a care in the world, like he hadn't been lying on the ground a mere minute or two ago.

"Why'd you bring me back?" Carter asks. "I'm sure there's tons of people that deserve to be brought back more than I do."

Aren shrugs. "You seemed interesting." He left it at that.

Carter gives him an inquisitive look. "But why?"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Look at it this way: you have another chance at life, thanks to yours truly. All I ask is that you don't tell anyone that me or Gracie-Mae were here. Alright?"

"Alright." Carter looks like he wants to ask, but doesn't.

He didn't want to tell Aren the real reason he brought him back, but it was a glaring issue. Every time his eyes drift in that direction, he brings them back to facing forwards. More and more similarities crop up by the second. He isn't happy to admit it, but Carter has his eyes, and his hair was styled the same way he loved. He wore the same sort of clothes as him, and even his voice was similar to his. If he looked at Carter for too long, Carter would cease to be there; in his place, he would stand, arms open and a warm smile on his face as he welcomes Aren home.

They arrive at the place Aren and Gracie-Mae have been holed up in for the past few days, and he ushers Carter inside.

"Your injuries are mostly healed, but not fully," He explains, guiding Carter to a chair and getting him seated. "You'll need time to let them heal before going out."

Carter nods, then shuts his eyes. Aren, rather foolishly, in his opinion, bends down to quickly check Carter's pulse. It is sputtering, stopping and starting at random, but it seems consistent enough. It'll even out after a few more hours.

He just needs to make sure Carter doesn't get injured in that time.

"Well, you're royally screwing us over," Gracie-Mae comments as she slides in through the window. "The guards know where we are now. No thanks to your little stunt."

Aren rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you'd been quieter when I was getting it done, they wouldn't have found out." He shuffles around the dinghy space they call a flat in search of their first aid kit. He pulls it out and returns to Carter's side. The wounds on his body aren't hurting him, but they still need to be cleaned and tended to. Aren cracks on with it as he always has done.

Gracie-Mae falls silent. She normally does, when she wants to vent but has no words to vent with. Aren quickly finishes off tying some of the bandages around Carter's abdomen, then stands up.

"I'll meet you outside later. We can work this out when I'm done."

She relents, and slinks off to a hidden corner, either to sulk or do... whatever it is she does when she's alone. Aren's never around to find out what her hobbies are. For all he knows, Gracie-Mae just stares at a wall for hours. He has no way to know, and if he's honest with himself, he doesn't want to. It's her time to do with what she wants. He doesn't need to know every little thing she gets up to.

Aren stares down at Carter. He examines his work, then his hands glide across Carter's torso, gently adjusting the man so he can see what he's looking for better. A canvas of smooth skin, marred by the occasional blotches or scars or marks. His fingers stutter to a halt when they encounter something so small he almost misses it.

It's a tattoo, barely the size of his thumbnail, and yet so intricate in detail. It's a tiny ram's head, the horns gushing with thorns and petals. The eyes of the ram are hollow, staring up at Aren as if to ask who he was.

A grin overtakes his face. This is unbelievable. Lady Luck is truly on his side. Aren contemplates calling for Gracie-Mae so she can see it for herself, then looks down at Carter's face. He can't bring himself to do it yet. Later down the line, perhaps.

For now, that information was a valuable asset. He'd find an appropriate time to reveal it later.

Secret Santa

This was really fun to write, and was also my first time doing something like this, so for my first ever thing like this, I'm pretty happy with it. I hope my person likes this a lot :)

@writeblrcafe hosted the event

This is my gift for @kittrrrr - hope you enjoy!

A Recurring Face

Word count: 979

At first his name had been Kestrel. He’d liked it; for what reason, he couldn’t quite say, but when he first heard the word he knew he loved it. Later on, he found out that a Kestrel was a bird, but he didn’t mind it too much. They were lovely birds.

Over time that name had to change. It was only natural. As humans developed, so did their languages and the names they went by. His name would be seen as unusual or strange, and thus it had to change to something else. In his heart, though, he was always Kestrel. No matter what name he took, he was always just Kestrel.

Humans had nice literature, Kestrel decided.

They were amazing; artfully woven words into strings of sentences. Each word was carefully selected to have an intended effect. They could make him laugh or - on rare, memorable occasions - make him cry.

Some of his favourites belonged to the Greeks.

Kestrel walked through the town, his eyes wandering across the shops and men walking around him. The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays beating down on him pleasantly, if a little too hard at some points in the day. There were no clouds that would drift by. The fact made him frown a little, but he recovered soon afterwards when his attention was captured by a man arguing with a vendor.

The man was not dressed like the other men and women roving around. He wore a white button-up shirt underneath a leather waistcoat, accompanied by pinstripe grey slacks and shiny shoes. His hair was a ruddy red and his eyes bright green, like moss in a forest. The man was trying to bring down the price of an urn, to which the vendor was trying to maintain his composure whilst explaining to the man that “This urn is incredibly valuable, it cannot be sold for such a price.”

Smiling, he approached the two men slowly. His arrival caught the attention of the vendor.

“I can pay for it,” he said. Kestrel took out some drachma and handed them to the vendor, taking a glance at the strangely-dressed man beside him. “Is it enough?”

The vendor’s eyes bugged out of his head. “This is too much.”

“Consider it a bonus, for putting up with my friend’s antics.” Kestrel turned to the man with a smile, hoping he would play along. “Come, let’s go back home.”

He placed his hand against the man’s back, but not before taking the urn and handing it to him. Kestrel escorted the man away from the shops and people and down a more private road.

He stopped when they were far enough from other people that no one would overhear.

The man looked at him curiously, his gloved hands shaking a little as he held the urn. He rotated it, tilted it, looked at it from every angle imaginable, then began to smile brightly. “Thank you,” he said, “I do not think I would have made it out of that unscathed.”

Kestrel laughed. “I’m sure you would’ve managed it.”

“I’m Thomas,” the man - Thomas - held out his hand. “And who are you, good sir?”

“Kestrel.” he answered, shaking Thomas’s hand with vigour.

---

His love for Greek literature was threatened by the appearance of Shakespeare. He couldn’t help but adore the man’s craft; his way with writing and creating likeable and repulsive characters; his amazing skill for both comedy and tragedy; the way he had risen to fame and even earned the favour of the queen herself.

He had arranged tickets to see one of his favourite plays and took his seat. It was a more private area, since he found that sitting with other people was quite tedious, at times, and that  plays were far more enjoyable with less clamour.

A man walked in. “My apologies, sir, but there aren’t many more seats available. Would you mind sharing with another?”

Kestrel nodded. “I see nothing wrong with that. Tell the fellow that he is welcome here with me.”

Bowing his head in response, the man scurried away, then returned with—

Oh.

The man disappeared, and Kestrel was suddenly alone with Thomas. He hadn’t aged a day; no wrinkles, no crow’s feet around his eyes, nothing. He was just as youthful as the day Kestrel first met him.

Which couldn’t be possible, since it had been several centuries since their last encounter. Unless Thomas was also…?

“I recognise you,” Thomas said, breathlessly. “You— you’re that man. From Ancient Greece.”

“How are you still alive?” he blurted out.

Thomas’s brows furrowed in thought. His eyes took in Kestrel’s clothing, his hair - which he had to cut short, sadly - and his face, lingering a bit too long on certain features.

Kestrel felt his cheeks colour, and looked down at his lap. He nervously fidgeted with his hands. “Why don’t we enjoy the play?” he suggested. “Then we can talk afterwards. Perhaps go for a nightcap.”

Hesitant, Thomas sat down beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other for a brief moment.

“I think I would enjoy that very much, indeed.”

He wanted to never see Thomas go. He wanted to learn everything he could about the man who had disappeared for centuries and then came back.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

It took a short while for that to sink in. He wasn’t alone anymore. Kestrel didn’t know what to do. He could sing, he could cry, he could dance for hours on end and never stop!

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, a nervous smile on his face.

Kestrel beamed back at him with an expression akin to a child on Christmas day. “Yes. More than alright, in fact.”

Their attention was snatched by the commencing play as the actors rushed onto the stage.

He was not alone anymore. Maybe things would be different this time.

Auriana's Take On Love

Auriana was a romantic at heart. Yes, it's true her ventures in romance were many, and she admits that she may not stick around for long. But she loves love nevertheless. There's just so much to love about it afterall.

Falling in love, for one, is always a blast. A sudden bout of carelessly slipped passion that has her cursing underneath her breath. Playful foot fights and knocking of the knees, leading up to shy shoulder brushes, and the ever hinting touch of the fingertip. The tell-tale rhythmic pulse of rushing blood and drenched palms. Stolen glances from the other side of the room that either break off immediately or turn into heated stare-downs with neither wanting to back off.

Ah yes, the falling. Ironic, seeing as it isn't a fall at all. Rather, when her heart jumps onto the cart, there is no falling but anticipation until the top. Unsure of the new course as she reaches further and further up, until she is hanging off the edge. It's always the highest hill that's first, the one that takes up your whole view because all you can see is down. A guaranteed promise of risk and adrenaline, and a slight bit of stomach turning. Exactly the kind of ride she signed up for. Auriana knew this since her first kiss with the court magician's son. (He tasted like Iris's attempt at lemon curd pie)

But as nice as the metaphor is, whereas a rollercoaster, with all their dips and loops, can never satisfy her needs with a single monotonous attraction, her loves had no such blueprint. They may buck like an untamed stallion and throw her off the rails, damn safety. They may tease her with a swerve as she settles into the dips. They may ease her with steady winds lapping her face as they cruise with leisure. Auriana prides herself to picking only the interesting after all. (Her standards are not recommended to be followed)

So is it all a sport for Princess Auriana of Volta? Does she simply ride until another catches her eye? Or until she decides that this one has not the strength to move her heart no more? Many would say yes, her bandmates included. But nay, the lady herself thinks otherwise.

Although she has been called flippant in her attitude towards love, there's a lovely hope, deep in her heart, that this one would be her last adventure. For them to be her last ride.

Of course, she has had no luck thus far. The trail of broken hearts and cut strings are plenty proof of that. Indeed, there were many sweet Earthlings that pulled at her heartstrings, some rather spicy ones that intrigued her curiosity, not to mention the roughened Ephedians that come by and remind her of home.

Despite that, she still dreamed of cuddles late at night, gazes meant for only one other so often shared by lovestruck couples, holding hands to the annual Dawning Festival in hopes of future luck, sharing scarves to shield from the cold, lazy bedtime kisses…

Maybe her expectations are too high. Or perhaps, as her close friends have hinted many times, too low. In Auriana’s hopeful (albeit unlikely) opinion, perhaps the Great Destinies of Volta had put her in a lover’s path and she has guided them to a better part of life in what seemed at the time to be an insignificant, now fateful action and would thank her for the rest of their life? A stretch, but not one without evidence. They have gathered at least three Oracle Gems from her voyeurs afterall.

For now, as Auriana sips her strawberry kiwi smoothie, she still hasn't quite found "the one." But that’s alright, she mused as she purveyed the small sandwich menu. Iris’s shanila just passed, Talia hasn't murdered her for tardiness yet, and Lolirock keeps getting more and more popular. Time is everything, and everything moves in due time, as her Father always said.

Maybe she should take a break from love. Focus more on sightseeing and taking back her kingdom after they defeating Greymore.

“A steak and cheese sandwich please,” Auriana ordered to the part-timer, deciding on the first sandwich that caught her eye after all. Checking her phone, she realized that for once, the schedule was subjectively free. (subjective because Talia had scheduled a strategy meeting; like they ever actually use any of the strategies against the twins in the heat of the moment.)

Sucking down her smoothie as she waited, she considered her options. Iris and Nathaniel are going on their not-double date with Carissa and Lyna, so she can't risk interrupting the romantic atmosphere. Talia was studying Borealis spell formations back at the house so no way in hell was she going near that place. Ticking off names off her mental list of friends, it was then that she realized that everyone else that came to mind all had plans or were her exs. What to do, what to do…

Skrrrck

Settling down onto the stool, the newcomer looked at the menu nervously. She looked to be around Auriana’s age with long blonde hair and a face that reminded Auriana of Earth’s bunnies.

Turning to Auriana, who was faking choosing a drink but was secretly side eyeing the new girl, she seemed to be quietly debating to herself about whether or not to risk talking to her before making a decision. Stuttering a quick accented greeting and introduction, the blonde turned to Auriana.

“Uhh.. Do you know any... good food?” asked the girl slowly, peering at Auriana through her lashes. Her head was faced down, most likely from the nerves talking to a foreigner. She’s cute, Auriana thought as she turned toward the nervous girl.

“Oui, les smoothies sont à tomber par terre,” Auriana answered cheerfully. Whipping her head up, the girl grinned toothily, happy in finding someone to communicate.

“You know French?” she asked, switching to her mother tongue.

“Yep!” Auriana said enthusiastically, just as happy to find someone to talk to.

“I went to France for work and picked up the language. It’s pretty cool how you can go from sounding like a gorbleck to a swiggle in a sentence, Like right now,” Auriana said, thinking back to the days when she and Talia were still searching for Iris.

The girl giggled, thinking it was some kind of joke. As the two talked, it wasn’t until she got the French girl’s number that Auriana remembered that she had left her sandwich at the smoothie bar.

2025, jan 29

translation above🇧🇷

It was a cool morning in the last days of winter. Harriet was having breakfast with her granddaughter, Grace. Shortly after, Claire also came to get her share, wearing only her undergarments. But Harriet felt a deep sadness, for she knew deep in her soul that she had lived long enough and that this would be her last day.

She didn’t even finish eating before she saw that death was calling her. Grace and Claire witnessed her take her last breath and began to cry.

🇧🇷🇧🇷

Era uma manhã fresca dos últimos dias do inverno, Harriet tomava seu café da manhã junto com sua neta, Grace. Logo em seguida Claire também veio pegar sua parte, usando apenas as roupas de baixo. Mas Harriet sentia uma profunda tristeza, pois sentia no fundo da sua alma que já tinha vivido o suficiente e aquele seria seu último dia.

Nem sequer acabou de comer e viu que a morte a chamava. Grace e Claire presenciaram ela dar seu último suspiro e começaram a chorar.

Upon realizing that Harriet’s soul was no longer among them, Maethe felt her heart falter, and as she stood up to go to her mother-in-law’s body, her heart couldn’t bear it, and she too was taken by Lady Death.

🇧🇷🇧🇷

Ao saber que a alma de Harriet não estava mais entre nós, Maethe sentiu seu coração falhar e ao levantar-se para ir até o corpo da sogra, seu coração não aguentou e ela também foi levada pela Dona Morte.

Alaric lost both his wife and his mother in the same day. His children, now orphans, wept, unable to understand how the world could fall apart so quickly. Now, only he and his eldest daughter, Amelie, remained to care for the younger ones and the household.

🇧🇷🇧🇷

Alaric perdeu a esposa e a mãe no mesmo dia. Seus filhos, órfãos, choravam sem entender como o mundo podia desmoronar tão rapidamente. Agora, restavam apenas ele e sua filha mais velha, Amelie, para cuidar dos mais novos e da casa.

🌳🌳

I still can't believe my favorite sim passed away 😭 send hearts for her death 💔💔💔

short story? (fictional..I guess)

Tuesday, 1:45 pm

Today was a windy day on the East bay. My feet are crunching the blank ground beneath my feet. I’m wearing a jacket but it’s so cold! The wool socks I’m wearing are a bit wet, and that was when I remembered I had hot chocolate at home. As I was on my way home, I see these to people close together. What are they doing? Why are they kissing? Aren’t they a bit close? Are they friends? I don’t know what to think.

I spot someone else across the street, and I could sense their jealousy of the close two. Then I heard the the two say, “I love you, my sweet sunshine!”, at the same time, but it wasn’t exact.

They’re in love. Love! What utter bullshit. 

I hurried along the snow, almost frustrated. Okay, not almost, I was frustrated. I AM FRUSTRATED! Why am I so frustrated?! Oh I’m home. Great.

My stiff discolored hands reach for the doorknob. It’s so cold and metallic. As I open the oak doors to my home, I close it just as quickly. 

SIGH

My mind is carrying a weight that I don’t to be true. I can’t fall in love. Well, at least, I don’t think so. Oh how I wish I could feel those wonderful feelings.

I enter my disheveled room, not prepared for anything, so I collapse onto my bed in all my warm clothes. 

Wednesday, 3 am

I’m hungry. My eyes are a bit blurry, so I rub them, so I can see once again. It’s 3 AM!! My stomach hurts, so I go to the kitchen, and look at my fridge.

It’s empty. Great! Just great.

I spot a remote to left and pick it to turn on my tv, then I hear my ringer go off. It’s my best friend, Jean. Well, I have a few best friends, and I love them so much. It’s not romantic...is there a word for that? ...I mean there can’t be...can there?

I pick up my phone and this is how the conversation goes:

Me: Fitz?! Isn’t it a bit late?

Fitz: lol Jet lol, why r u up at this time?

Me: I...I couldn’t sleep. 

Fitz: lol same.

Me: Fitz, I need help? 

Fitz: okay bestie! what u need help with?

Me: Well...I think I’m broken?!

Fitz: WOAH THERE!!! Who are you and what did you do to my bestie?!

Me: pfft...OH GOD it’s 4 am already!!!

Fitz: 9 pm over here baBY!

Me: I can’t fall in love...is that bad?

Fitz: Bro...why’d u thing it was wrong?

Me: because I’ve been told that I’ll fall in love with somebody, but it is yet to happen.

Fitz: u could be...aromantic? #noromo

Me: I’ve gotta feel a little attraction...right?

Fitz: Mate, calm ya tits, and look the damn thing up!

Me: okay okay...I WILL :{

.....

...

Fitz: Good night Jet, you’re an amazing friend :O

Me: Thanks, gn

Fitz: ‘night

12 hours later

OH shit...I fell asleep with the tv on! And yesterday...oh GOD!!! I miss Fitz. They were such a good friend...and I guess I’ll take their advice...not that I want to. I open up my computer and start typing in “Signs I might be aromantic?” and “What does it mean to be aromantic?”, and lastly “Am I aro?”. I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole, but OOO!

Th-that’s me...THAT’S ME!! Fitz was right...I am aromantic.... Wait there’s other like me. THere’s a whole spectrum?! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!! WHY aren’t we taught this earlier?! If only I found out sooner...then everything would have hurt less. Well, it’s not like I can change much, so I guess I’m glad I came to this strange conclusion?

So yeah yesterday was cold, but now I feel a bit warmer knowing a bit more about myself. So HAH! Take that world! I’m gonna soar beyond and create my own path because I don’t need to fall in love to be human. Why is it shown so much though? The media is weird. Okay....a lot of things are weird. 

The Small King

When she spoke, her voice broke the silence. It was loud and deep. It was so unexpected that the tone of her words made the men shiver. The sadness she expressed made the gloomy night even colder than it already was.

On her knees, she tried her hardest to seem strong, but the mud on her face and her wet hair falling in front of her eyes made her look like the child she was. Her tormented and saddened dark eyes reflected the picture which stood before her, bodies laying on the ground, friends no longer of this world, strangers already on the other side and their murderers.

The events of that night felt so unreal that she almost thought she was in a dream; the ones her brothers had after coming back from the last war. Fields filled with corpses that will be buried all together in the same hole, lacking time and space.

The wind howled, sounding almost like the cries of the dying men. Her breath, although the excruciating weather of the North, was steady and slow. Her heartbeat was the calmest it had ever been. She did not understand where this peace, floating in her soul, came from, but she knew she was lucky to have it in such time.

On her own, facing an army that was endless, she did not feel scared, she felt disgusted. How could a man convince so many others to slaughter solemnly to destroy and claim what is not his?

The bells of justice rang in her heart even though she knew she couldn’t have it. She knew her vengeance would never end, for she was the last one standing. If being still alive meant standing. And to achieve it, she must kill all the men standing before her, thousands

In this treeless valley, surrounded by high mountains, she felt the ground shake under her and her mind trembled with it. Her thoughts began swirling around in her head as she looked upward and saw the majestic white moon showing itself through the clouds of the storm. She was there, between the darkness of the night and the light of the moon, so lonely.

The man that was leading them all stood before her. His presence was enormous. He took so much place for a man that was so small.

He didn’t seem that evil if you truly paid attention. His small stature couldn’t scare a wolf. His feminine looks couldn’t impose any man. However, his blue eyes were piercing, so much that she thought he might have killed everyone around her with them. And the strong warriors following him were a sign of his true brilliance for he was able to convince hundreds to follow him, whom they called The Small King, although he was no true king.

Her pupils kept moving from one face to another, from one body to the other. She wanted to remember, she wanted to think, she wanted to act all at once.

The birds in the night couldn’t do anything to distract her.

Lightning struck in the distance and it electrified her body. Her heart was moving faster; the beating took the control of her body. She grasped in her cold hand the mud of the ground and squeezed so hard it could have transformed into a rock. In the anger that was growing inside her little and weak body, she made herself strong and indestructible. Her breaths, once peaceful, sounded like the one of a soldier fighting on the battlefield.

She didn’t feel the rain on her cheeks anymore, nor did she feel the weak tremor under her knees that were sinking deeper and deeper into the earth.

She had never felt such a way. She didn’t know what exactly it was, but she knew she liked it, and she also knew she shouldn’t.

A cold wind started to wage the valley and some of the killers felt it, like she did.

‘Kill me if you must, but I shall not bow to a king who wears a crown studded with jewels of every life he has ended.’

And her words were the thunder that followed the lightning. Her anger flowed through the ground and touched every single living being in the area.

Their leader, The Small King, took a few steps forward and looked down at her in such a way that for a moment, a split second, she felt like nothing. And she could have sworn that his clear heavenly eyes flashed darkness and wickedness. But perhaps it was only her own reflection she saw.

The man placed his right hand on his sword handle, but didn’t slipped it out of its holder. The knob of his weapon interested the young girl for it seemed to have the shape of an animal, actually the head of a beast. It was not quite a bear, nor a wolf. He slightly lifted it and she saw what it was. It was the creature her brothers had nightmares about. The one that could live in darkness and in light, the one that could hunt you down even after its death, the one that was the most feared monster of the known world through all species: the man, half beast, half thinker.

And finally, the King closed his eyes and whispered a few words she couldn’t understand for her hearing was gone when the enemy had thrown bombs through the air and on her village. All she could hear was a buzzing sound. He looked up at the sky and got the long piece of metal out of its place.

He raised his hand up, up in the air. Then, he swung his great sword and ended the girl without a second thought.

The survivor was no longer, the war was ended, the air became thicker and the reign of the Small King greater.

The battle is lost and the child with it, for the Queen rests on a bed of mud, without a crown, without a people.

Maintenance

The rhythmic beeping filled the quiet workshop. As much as the mechanic wanted to ignore it, the beeping was just annoying enough that she had to get up. Throwing on whatever was in reach, she was forced to make her way down to the floor.

“What the hell is that noise?” She asked, groggily, looking around to see where it could be coming from. And it only took her a few moments to realize it was coming from the robot. The beeping forced it to power on, and it was trying to quiet the beeping, but it was already too late.

“Robot. What’s going on?” “Sorry, mechanic.. I am trying to quiet it down, but it will not cooperate. I am due for maintenance.”

“It’s fucking… 2AM! Why is it going off now?” “It has progressed to a point where my system is requiring help, no longer just suggesting it.”

The mechanic groaned and pointed towards her station. She didn’t need to share any orders for the robot to know where it was supposed to go. Once it was on the stand, the beeping stopped. She breathed a sigh as she thought about returning to bed, only to shake out of it. She needed to stop that beeping from coming back.

“Alright.. Maintenance Report. What’s going on in there?”

Motor functions: Sub-standard. check processing before looking into this.

Chassis: Operational.

Fuel tank: In need of service.

Processing: In need of service.

Extra notes: I'm sorry, i was hoping this wouldn't happen while I was here. I've been struggling and it's much easier to just deal with it instead of reaching out…

She nodded and made a quick notepad list. Her focus would be the central processing as that was most likely the key culprit. With the list next to her, she looked back to the robot and stepped closer.

“Have you been running your daily diagnostics?” She asked, and only got a look from the robot, not too dissimilar to that of a dog that’s been caught in trouble. She shook her head, mildly disappointed by this news. But, instead of letting it keep her down, she knelt down, turned the robot, and felt along the robot’s chassis. It was pushing a decade old at this point, and with history came the dents and scratches, the closest things robots could have to scars. Pretty soon, her hands found what she was looking for, its maintenance hatch.

“May I open this? I promise, I won’t be changing your coding, at most, just some diagnostics.” She promised, and extended a hand out. It took a moment, some hesitancy on the robot’s part, but soon, she had the key to it’s hatch. The first of many steps that would be this repair. She used it to unlock the two locks holding everything in place, and had it opened.

The mess inside had made her frown. She suspected with the years of work, it would be maybe a bit rusty, or something. And, while it was, it was far more than what she was hoping for. At some point, some vines had managed their way in, and given the system’s water cooling, had managed to somehow survive and wrap around most everything. It was.. beautiful in its own way, but was, a sign of neglect for the robot. One that she was going to happily remedy, if for no other reason, than to get it to open up to her.

She stepped back for a moment and gathered the tools she’d need. Setting them on the station next to the stand, she explained what she saw to the robot. It didn’t seem surprised by anything in there. Not that she could tell, very few things seemed to surprise it, and the emotionless face didn’t help show surprise either.

“I’m going to need to deep clean everything in there.. It uhm.. will require you to be powered down. Do you consent to that?” “You are my owner. You are not required to get my consent.” “I know, but I also want you to be able to say no, I can find other ways to help you, this would just be easiest for me, but I know it can be scary for you – to trust.”

“… … Thank you, yes, you may continue. Please, do not touch my coding… I’m trying to trust you.”

The mechanic smiled at this and issued the shut down command. Within a few moments, the robot was powered down. She thought it looked peaceful, but that was often the case with powered off mechanisms. But, she had a job to do, and hopefully a bed to get back to before it got too late in the morning for her to nap.

She started by snipping the vines with some wire cutters, trying to make it easier for her to pull them all out and away from the working area she’d need. Once she had them all gone, she picked up a small, camera like device, and started scanning the inside of the hatch. The pictures she was taking were being uploaded into the home for the device, and constructing a 3d model of the space she was showing it. Pretty soon, she had it all mapped out, and would be able to re-construct most if not all of it from this scan. Setting down that tool, she moved onto the removal process. Disconnecting the ribbon connections, unscrewing the mounts, everything she could find to release the central hub, she did.

Now that it was free, she pulled the hub out and set it on the station. It wasn’t the prettiest hub she had seen, but with some work, she could get it to run better, even without the diagnostics check. The vines were weaving in and around the hub, meaning that, undoubtedly, they were interfering with something. The motor functions, at least, what she figured most likely. Another round of pruning and disassembling, and she had all the parts laid out, which subsequently, got their own cleaning each.

She took her time with this project, not rushing any of it, as she wanted it to be as best as she could muster. Not only because it was her craft, but because this ‘client’ was one that she cared about. If it was some asshole, she could just clear the codes, and be done. But not with robot. She wanted to make sure that while robot was in her hands, she’d take care of it. Treat it like she would a companion, rather than a tool. So, it made sense to her to take the time to test each component. She wasn’t going to replace them without consulting the robot, but at least she could have a list of what may need to be updated in the near future.

By the end, she realized that most every part was acting, in some way, sub standard. Not that she was surprised, given the age. She ran the diagnostics, while she had everything out in the open like this, and found a few optimizations that she could have it run, clearing out junk data, but not touching anything close to the code. Though… she thought about taking a peek, seeing what might be in there that could be causing these issues. Something nagged at her, trying to tell her to do it, as this may have been her only chance to. Instead, however, she took a step away, and let herself breath, and focus on the good things. It would take another few months at least for this alert to go off again, assuming that nothing breaks it’s chassis before that point. She started the reassembly, constructing everything back to the way it was supposed to be with the help of her models. All the screws back into their correct places, and tightened down so nothing would rattle loose. The hub was rebuilt.

Next would be to clean the housing, the rust and plant-life covering everything would only cause nightmares for down the line. So, she decided to get to work, getting rid of the rust as best as she could, and then applying a protective coat to hopefully keep the rust from getting worst. During the cleaning, she noticed something that seemed like some previous tagging about ownership inside. It didn’t seem like it was some corporate stuff, so she left it and made a note to ask robot about it once this was all done.

Reassembly was thankfully much easier than everything else she had done for the robot. By the time everything was clean, operational, and reassembled, she had felt like she spent a full day on this project. She knew that was far from true, as the sun hadn’t pestered her once yet, but she was tired and sore. But, with the process all but done, she closed up the hatch, and leaned against the workstation.

“Robot, boot up, please.” She mumbled, the sleep weighing on her words. Her words were met with a small jingle as the robot turned back on. The joyful tune was a relief, knowing that she didn’t forget to connect anything. After a few moments, she got even more confirmation to this worry.

“Hello, mechanic. Is maintenance finished?”

“Should be… at least, I’m hoping it will be. Give me another Maintenance Report before I send you off though.”

Motor function: Operational.

Chassis: Operational.

Fuel Tank: In need of service.

Processing: Operational.

Extra Notes: Systems functional, thank you Mechanic

Hearing that everything was mostly working, and not hearing the alarm go off, she sighed and stood upright. She stretched a little bit and walked over to robot. It noticed her eyes were looking heavy, that she could fall asleep at any moment. And it moved before she even realized what was happening. She started to stumble, and it caught her. Before she could be her stubbornly independent self, it spoke up.

“You assisted me with my maintenance, I think it only fair I assist you with yours. You appear to be tired. Should I take you to your room, or just the couch?” It asked, and for as much as she wanted to disagree, she couldn’t get the words to form. So, she reluctantly pointed to the couch, her backup bed basically. Without a word, it carried her to the couch, and helped her lay down on it. Soon after, she was resting, and catching up on the sleep she missed out on. As much as she wanted to worry about the shop, the robot was operational, and the day was light, worst case, it could handle the jobs.

Keeper of the Memories

This is the second story of the “Avonlea Club”. I am a bit late though, but still I hope you enjoy<3

Sylvia with her family was moving to a place in the country. She was leaving behind all of her memories. This was something Sylvia didn’t like. Moving away was cowardice to her. She was someone who wanted to hold on to everything. But her family had chosen the other way, so they were moving. 

The place was very beautiful and calm. Any nature lover like Sylvia would love this place. Sylvia liked the place but it couldn’t be something she would call home. Back in the days, when everything was perfect, they used to go to vacation resorts just like this one. Those times were golden. Every moment in those resorts was lovable to her. But their new house wasn’t their vacation house. It was beautiful but not lovable. 

Sylvia didn’t want to go into the deep of the house. Hence, she had requested her parents to give her the ground floor guest room as her bedroom.If she needed fresh air, it would be easier to run for it from  her ground floor bedroom. The upstairs rooms were all very deep and dark. If she stayed there, the room was going to absorb the remaining pieces of memories she had managed to save within her. She wouldn’t let the darkness take her precious memories. If darkness came all the way from upstairs, she would run, run so hard and be out the house, straight to the woods, where she would be free to hold on to her memories, to express herself fully. In the house, her parents wanted her to be unexpressed. 

While unpacking her things, Sylvia found the doll. The doll for which she used to fight. It was one of her favourite dolls and there were so many memories with it. Again, like their own home, Sylvia’s parents didn’t want to take the doll with them to the new house. Her mom said that it was better to leave it with the old home which was its real preserver. Sylvia didn’t accept it. She knew that their previous home (the real one) was the holder of the doll, but she was forced to leave her home anyway, she couldn’t at least leave her doll, the precious one with precious memories. In this decision, her father said that she was not moving on. Sylvia didn’t understand why she needed to move on. She wanted to scream and tell her parents that she would never ever move on. At the end, she didn’t scream but packed the doll anyway.

Sylvia always used to sit beside her mother at supper. Likewise, on the first night at the new house during supper, Sylvia sat beside her mother. Her father insisted that she sit beside him pointing at the empty chair near him. Sylvia became really tired at that point. She couldn’t understand why her parents wanted to change everything after moving away from their home. She became aggressive and went straight to her room without finishing her meal. Suddenly she felt very lonely in her room. She felt the need of someone. So, she kept visiting her memories, her only way to escape the situation. 

Sylvia’s mother told her that she was not going to school and would be homeschooled under a tutor for sometime. When asked, her mother replied that she wanted to give Sylvia sometime to adjust. But her mother didn’t understand that Sylvia would never adjust. However, as she wasn’t going to school, every afternoon, she had plenty of time. One afternoon, she went to roam around in the forest in the backyard of their new house. The forest felt very intense and heavy to her. However, she kept going to the depths of it. In the middle of the forest, she discovered a well. It surprised her. A well in the middle of the forest! The well was very ancient looking. There were vines and creepers around it. Algae and mosses had surrounded it in every direction. She wanted to go near it but also she was nervous. The well was giving her some chills. Suddenly she realised that she was indeed in the very deep- of the forest and started panicking thinking she had lost the direction towards the new house. Without thinking twice, she started running in the opposite direction from the well. She was running and thinking. Thinking about the well. She heard her tutor say one day that there was a legend about the well in the forest. She didn’t ask about it because she wasn’t interested in anything at that moment. But then, she wanted to know about it. She was curious. 

That day it took Sylvia a long time and a big hassle to reach the new house from the forest. Her head was filled with the thoughts of the well. The next day she kept waiting for her tutor eagerly. As her tutor entered the study room, she was a bit astonished to see Sylvia’s eager eyes waiting for her patiently. Sylvia was never interested in anything else before. The tutor took the situation as a good opportunity to become connected with Sylvia. She smiled at her with a sweet ‘good morning’.

Sylvia replied, “Good morning, Ms. Marlowe. You’re late today.”

“Yes, I’m very sorry for that. But I wonder why you’re all buckled up with the sunshine-like eyes of yours, I thought you didn’t enjoy history.”

“I was waiting for you actually. You see Ms. Marlowe, I’m very curious to know about the story of the well in the forest.”

At this Ms. Marlowe became a bit confused. She couldn’t understand why Sylvia suddenly wanted to know about the ‘well legend’. But as she wanted to be close to Sylvia, she decided to start her lesson with the story.

“Well, that’s a very interesting story indeed. It’s an ancient saying actually said by old people of this area. People used to say, there is an old and creepy well in the middle of the forest. It has some dark magic with it. But it can comfort people really well.”

Sylvia knew she needed to be comforted more than anything else in this new house. He3nce, she interrupted her tutor by asking, “What do you mean by making comfortable Ms. Marlowe?”

“Well I meant to say that, suppose a person is in distress and goes to the well, the well would show some kind of illusion which can make the person forget about their distress and they would be comfortable.”

“Wow, isn’t that something really enchanting!" Sylvia exclaimed with joy.

“Yes it is but you see, there is a reason why people call it dark magic. Because it’s not actually t actually beneficial for people. The well is playing illusions, it can't ever be good. People need to find ways to deal with their problems naturally. This sort of way, the one the well directs never really helps but makes the situation worse."

Ms. Marlowe might have continued lecturing about the dark sides of the well legend but Sylvia wasn't paying any attention to her. She knew what she needed and she had found it. Then she thought she was going to be happy again. 

The next day, Sylvia went to the forest, to the well. That time she wasn't scared and near to the well. 

She said, "I've been told that you make people happy. I'm here to see what you have with you to make me happy."

Sylvia waited for sometime but there wasn't any reply. She didn't see any magic coming. She became sad and desperate. 

"Please understand that I'm very sad and lonely. I don't like it here. I want to go back to my own place and own people. To the past, to those sweet memories where everything was alright", Sylvia kept saying those aloud and wept hard. Few minutes had gone while Sylvia was weeping but still nothing changed to make her happy. She began to give up. She thought she could never be happy again. Just at that moment, she saw a girl crawling out of the well. Sylvia panicked at the first instance. But eventually she realised it was someone she would never have to be scared of. 

"Sabrina, is that you?" She asked the crawling girl. 

The girl stood finally in front of Sylvia. Her face was somewhat blurry and  wet. In fact she was fully drenched in water. As she stood face to face with Sylvia, Sylvia could see her properly. 

She cried "Oh, Sabrina. Is that really you? I have been missing you so much." She ran to the girl and hugged her tight. The girl didn't move neither said anything. But she made Sylvia happy. 

Sylvia started visiting the well everyday to see the girl. Sylvia went there and called the girl by Sabrina. Everyday the girl crawled out of the well to stand in front of her. She talked about her day and her sweet old memories. The girl never talked or answered any questions. Sylvia didn't mind much. She was very happy just to be with her. But one day the girl talked. So, she asked her, "Why don't you ever talk to me Sabrina. I share everything with you just like with you just like I used to do before. But you never share anything. It makes me sad sometimes."

And then the girl replied. Her voice was very faded and indistinct. She said, "I am not used to talking outside of the water." 

"Oh, then how can I hear you talking? I cannot talk inside the water."

"But you have never tried it, did you? Why don't you come to the water with me? I have many things to talk about and show you in the deep of the water", the girl said, attracting Sylvia immensely. Sylvia found the offer really engaging. She gave it a thought. She thought about how miserable she was in the new house. She also thought about the girl who was her only source of happiness after everything had been changed. She kept thinking for some time and finally replied with a happy face, "I got an idea. I think I want to come and stay with you in the well forever because you're the one who makes me truly happy". 

"Seems like a very good idea to me", the girl replied. Sylvia set up her mind and was very proud to have found her forever happiness. 

Sylvia's mother noticed her daughter disappearing into the forest every evening. She also asked Sylvia once what she was doing there. Sylvia just simply replied that she was playing and having fun. Her mother was relieved everytime she was informed that her daughter was having fun. She thought Sylvia was finally moving on. 

Sylvia was packing her things when her mother called her from the kitchen informing about the arrival of Ms. Marlowe. She didn't mind the interruption because she was very happy that day. She merrily went to her study room. 

Ms. Marlowe said, "Good morning Sylvia, you look very jolly today."

"Yes, Ms. Marlowe. In fact I'm the happiest today. I won't be bothering to study history today as this is going to be my last lesson with you", Sylvia replied joyfully. 

Ms. Marlowe couldn't understand the reason behind Sylvia's calling the session as the last one. She said, "But I wasn't informed about it. I didn't know that I don't have to tutor you anymore." 

"You weren't informed by my parents because they don't know about it yet. But I'm informing you now, ain't I? Now please let us start our lesson at once Ms. Marlowe as I have to pack up my things really quick", Sylvia said impatiently. 

"Pack up your things? Are you going somewhere? ", Ms. Marlowe asked confusedly. 

"Yes, I'm going to be living with my sister from now on, in the well in the forest", she replied excitedly. 

Ms. Marlowe then became very worried about Sylvia's condition. Sylvia was hallucinating the whole time. Ms. Marlowe realised that she was still grieving and never moved on. She confronted her and wanted her to realise the truth as well. She said, "Sylvia, my dear girl, there is no well in the forest. It has been your misunderstanding. You were overwhelmed by the well legend and imagining things because you were sad. I know you miss Sabrina, but she is gone and never coming back. You have to accept it and…"

Sylvia became agitated and didn't let Ms. Marlowe takes her happiness away from her. She shouted, "You don't know anything. I don't want to talk to you." She left the study running towards her own room. 

Ms. Marlowe couldn't just stay still. She went to Sylvia’s mother explaining her situation. Her mother broke down into tears. After all, she was also going through hard times after the death of their first child, Sabrina. Ms. Marlowe consoled her and requested her to have some more patience to deal with Sylvia’s condition. Together they went to Sylvia's room.

Sylvia was shaking and sobbing sitting in the corner of her room. After Ms. Marlowe's confrontation, she was forced to visit her dark memories which she was avoiding for a while. She didn't ever want to accept the fact that her sister, her true companion, was dead. She didn't want to move on and wanted to hold onto the memories where Sabrina was present. She didn't want to start anew where no one will talk about Sabrina accepting her absence. But alas! This is the rule of nature. After all of the trials to hold onto Sabrina's memories and never moving on, Sylvia couldn't help but hit the realization. She was very tired of all of her efforts to keep her dead sister alive in her memories. She suddenly knew that she had to accept the fact and move on with her life eventually. 

When her mother along with Ms. Marlowe came to her room, she stood strongly facing them. She apologized to her mother for making such a decision of running away without consulting her. Her mother hugged her tight and said, "My baby girl, I'm very sorry that you had to go through all of these alone. I understand now that I and your father weren't actually neither helping you nor helping ourselves to overcome the situation healthily. But I want you to know that we are still a family. We love you and Sabrina as well. We also miss her a lot. Together we will have to deal with our grief and the darkest part of our memories so that we feel free to miss her from the depth of our hearts. I guess we all made mistakes in the healing process. We were not actually moving on instead we were just running away from our griefs which was not healthy at all." 

Her mother's words comforted Sylvia. She understood that no matter what happens, Life goes on. Hence, she accepted everything and finally began the healing process. After that, whenever Sylvia visited their old home or whenever she touched the doll for which she used to fight with her sister, Sylvia didn't have to hold onto the fact Sabrina needed to be there for her. She just missed her and was grateful to Sabrina for being a good companion. Sylvia's father didn't request her again  to sit beside him where Sabrina used to sit at supper. He understood that though Sabrina wasn’t there, her place was secured in their hearts.

A Vision Of Life

This is the first story of the “Avonlea Story Club” for the month (January 15th- February 15th). We tried to write the genre “Adventure” for this month. Hope you like it. My another club member is @emerald-notes​ . Please check out her story for the month too. P.s. The photo has been taken from the internet.

*****

I woke up at 9:40 PM. ‘Shit!’ I’m gonna miss my train,’ I thought. I quickly went to the bathroom, trying to fresh up, but to my unfortunate life, I could never do anything fast. I came back from the bathroom and started applying all sorts of lotions and moisturizers contained in my daily skin care list. But ugh! It always takes a lot of time. However, I tried to finish dressing up as quickly as possible because I had to catch the train at 10:15 PM. It was getting super late. I did not even look at my watch, fearing it would already be 10:15. Instead, I just quickly hopped in my car and started driving to the direction of the train station. But again, the traffic lights! “It’s gonna kill all of my time” I thought. While waiting for the traffic light to turn green, I tried not to think what would happen to me if I was to miss the train. I started to feel very nervous and stressed. But then, to my great relief, the green signal came, and I started driving right away. The speed I was following was greater than ever because there was no way I could afford to miss the train. Finally, I got to the station. But again, to my utter disappointment, it was already 10:20 PM, and the train had already started running. I stood there watching it run. I could not stop thinking only if I had come 5 minutes earlier. Why did I even stop at the signal? What if I’d woken 5 minutes earlier? But there was nothing to do. What happened just happened. I missed the train. I was in great despair. What was I going to tell my parents? They would be disappointed with me as usual. I found a bench and sat there. My phone rang. I did not look at it because I knew it was my mother calling to know whether or not I got to the train safely. I couldn’t just receive the call and tell her that I didn’t get to the train, let alone safely. I started to get annoyed when my mother kept calling me for the third time. I wasn’t to face the situation. I couldn’t even decide what I was going to do now that I’d missed my train. “But I must do something”, I kept thinking. The whole situation was very pressurized, and I didn’t want to be in it. As I couldn’t stay undecided even for some time, I decided I would just sit there until I thought I should move. I knew it wasn’t an effective decision or maybe no decision at all, but I needed it in order to feel relaxed. Yes, I needed it, I needed some free time to make myself distracted. Yes, distraction was all I needed. I deserved it, I couldn't let myself get pressured. I was extremely tired, and I was beginning to feel restless. My eyes were closing. And then everything became black. 

I woke up again with a start. ‘Where was I?’ I thought. It seemed that I was in the station and fell asleep. ‘Of course, I didn’t leave it and didn’t even talk to mom and finally decided to rest here instead. What a silly thing to do!’, I thought. Suddenly, my eyes caught the stare of another  pair of eyes. The pair of eyes belonged to a man. The man was a bit gigantic.  He was looking at me with a wicked smile on his lips. He reminded me of someone I knew but couldn’t remember at that moment. I could not help hating him. He was making me uncomfortable with his continuous staring and annoying smile. I knew that that particular behaviour of that man was intentional. I kept thinking what I would do if this cruel man suddenly attacked me. I could not remember where I had parked my car. But that was not an issue because the keys are going to lead me to my car. So I started to search for the keys. But, Alas! My bag wasn’t with me. Quickly I reached my pocket, and it was what I had expected, my wallet was gone too. ‘What was I going to do?’ I started to become very tensed. I imagined the cruel man to have taken my stuff to put me in this dangerous situation. ‘How can I be this careless?’ I blamed myself. Then a worse thing happened. The man seemed to call someone without moving his disgusting stare from me. He was surely telling his friends to come meet him in the station. I seemed to guess what was going to happen if his friends had arrived. He and his friends were gonna surely hurt my feelings. I was going to be doomed. And yes, to make it obvious, I saw his friend arriving in the direction of that cruel man with a disgusting laugh. ‘No, this is not going to happen’, I pleaded to myself. I stood up and, without thinking twice, started running in the opposite direction. I thought maybe running from the situation would save me that time. But I was wrong. I heard mocking footsteps behind me. Yes, they were also running after me. As I said, I was doomed!

I had to quicken my steps as I was running for my life. I could swear that I had not run that fast in my entire life. There was a kind of forest near the station. Finding no other convenient place, I directly ran into it. As expected, the forest was very dark. As I was running deeper, it was getting darker. At some point, I could not even distinguish the trees. So, I had to slow down as I didn’t want to get hit by a tree and cause me more trouble. I noticed that the footsteps were no longer audible. I thought maybe they became busy with something more exciting. However, I was relieved. So, I sat down under what seemed to be a huge tree. I was sweating and struggling to breathe. I began to  think about a lot of things. I didn’t think it was worth living. Never in my life I did something extraordinary. It was rather boring as hell. I didn’t even like my parents. I was sure, neither did they like me. What was the point of calling each other and knowing stuff, I could not understand. Suddenly I saw a glimpse of light at the far end of the forest. I started walking towards it because my brain was incapable of thinking about anything else. 

As I reached the source of the light, I found a house. It was a wooden house. The house appeared very dark, perhaps because it was made out of very dark colored woods. I knocked at the door. I knocked it twice. An old woman finally opened the door. Her hair was all silver and she gave me a soothing smile. As I was just going to ask her something, she moved away from the door gesturing me to step inside. I obeyed her because she seemed friendly. I thought maybe she was the one who could actually help me get out of the situation. I sat on a tool near the fireplace. The old woman sat beside me. It seemed like she was ready to hear me talk. I could not decide where to start. It was always very difficult for me to start the discussion. Instead I started looking around her house. The house had only one room in which we were sitting. There was no other furniture other than the two chairs (where we were seated) and a table. The contents on the table were really weird. There were some moving dolls and a glass tube filled with a sparkling purple liquid. The dolls were very lovely looking. They had smooth skin and rosy cheeks and were glowing and radiating charisma. I was pleased at their beauty and their movement. Then, the woman spoke. 

“You seem to like the dolls, don’t you?”

“Yes, they are very comforting and lively”, I replied.

“You can be like them, you know, if you want.”

She took the glass tube from the table.

“This is called the ‘Elixir of Beauty’. This can make you happy just like it made the dolls happy”, she said pointing the tube towards me. 

I took the tube. 

“You can drink it” she seemed to suggest. I was hesitating. Things can happen this easily, I did not believe. “Can I really be as happy and lively as the dolls? Shall I trust the woman?” I kept thinking. 

Suddenly I woke up hearing a beep. It was my alarm. I really woke up this time from this peculiar dream. Was it a nightmare or an excitement, I could not tell. But I realized that, I didn’t yet miss the train. The train which was to take me to the job interview was still waiting. I could not miss that chance like I did before. I knew I needed it. ‘No slow-motion work this time’, I told myself. But firstly I had to take some moments to finish up my skin care routine peacefully because it was important. I had plenty of time but I had to make it useful. 

And I did reach the station and hopped on my train timely and safely. As the train was running, I decided what I would be doing after I had appeared for the interview properly. I needed to call my mom. Probably she liked me or liked me not but I did not have to think about that. I also do need to call my therapist and thank her. She was a good adviser after all. As the train started to run faster, I kept thinking about the dream. It felt too relatable. Like I had lived my life in that dream. 

Our first ever story writing club 💚

“All Summer in a Day” Review

Margot feels the sun more than other children because she was more closer to it and more distant from them.

“The shadows may just be the safest place. Alongside the devil, so he cannot see you.” -Granholt (Dying, his final words)

“This so called man serves the Mistress. He is her eyes, her ears, her hands. Don’t trust the Host.” -Barveli

“Beware of the Circle. Your blood is like air and vile flesh will hunt you tonight. You must bring salvation with haste!” -Granholt

I'm scared to form friendships because I know I'm going to give it my all. I'll be loyal every single time. I'll stay up with them until 3AM if they just need to talk. I'll never abandon them. I'll comfort them and give them letters. I'll do everything. But for me? They'll be interested for a little bit. Then they'll drift away and abandon me. They won't care. They won't even think of me. This is why I don't make friendships; because I'll get hurt all over again and I need to protect myself.

- Dreaming of Wolves//Memoir

I never really got a childhood. Sure, I had a beginning, but a troubled one. I became an escapist from day one, always flying to my imaginary world instead of the real one. I didn't like reality, and frankly, I still don't because of the people inside them. I had to grow up too fast. They pushed me into the blinding reality, and I got hurt. They laughed when I fell in my hole, and they never helped me get back out. I never forgave them for that. Now, as I look back, my beginning was stolen, my middle was me realizing it, and what will my end be? All I want is a happily ever after, something of fairy tales. I want to be the girl raised by wolves, or protected by the forest creatures. I want to find someone who makes me feel so loved I won't even have to doubt it anymore. I need something to prove me wrong that my end won't be as tragic as how it all was written in the start. It's time I pick up the pencil. It's time I start rewriting my life.

- Dreaming of Wolves// Short Stories

"Don't cry," He whispered to the broken girl beside him on the ground, "you have me."

The girl choked on her own tears. Blood splattered on the dusty dirt ground below them. It was only them left.

"Now... Now the war is over," She wiped her tears away, "when my friends are all dead. And I'm still here."

- Dreaming of Wolves//Story Excerpt

Last wish.

Never Mind 8

Hi! It's time for new part of Never Mind. I can say that this part is one I like myself. It's not like amazing and so deep and emotional part but I like it.

Why I did it? Why I went to him? Why I crabbed him? Why I crabbed his neck and not hand? Why I made him die? Why I had to choke him? Why I did it? Why I started becoming a monster that had spoken even before I was born? Just why did I born if it never meant to happen? Those question ran circle inside my head and they were making me crazy. Why went there? I need him and not only now but I will need him in future. I was just looking him and watch him try to breath. He tried to get my hands off around his neck. But I didn't let go. I made him die. No one haven't told me to do it but I still did it. I choked him and listened him say 'I love you'. Goosebumbs ran on my skin and left cold touch on it. I didn't cry and I left like I was wachting myself outside my body. But I felt my cold andhollow body around me. The boy was the most dearest person to me. So why just the freaking why I did let him die by my hands?

-Hey, what are doig here?

A hand placed on my shoulder. I did not want anyone to come and bother me now. I stood up and hit him with all my strenght and the person fell onto floor.

-None if your buisness asshole

I grabbed the man's feet and dragged him to others. I have had other people knock out before him. I did not want anyone to bother me. Then I just went to desk and found paper and pencil. I wrote "I don't know, maybe I was afraid and maybe I still am scared. You won't wait me with happy smile on your face anymore, not after you find out that your son died by my hands."

Then I just looked the note little time. I left the note and took that beautiful pencil with me. Then I heard some weak voice from pile of unmissed people. I opened a window other side of the room. I put my hood cover my head, white mask to cover my face and still once I scanned the room, then I escaped through the narrow window to lightless night.

Never mind 5

Ooookay... so here comes another one again.

Saliva spitted out off my mouth. My laugh echoed all around. You couldn’t escape it. Every human was trapped. I looked around myself and try to decide who’d I catch first. They all had hidden in too easy hides. I sloped my head to left and cracked my neck.  I love mouse and cat game. I laughed animalisticly. I felt the fear in the thick air. It was tasted bitter sweet. It was like sugar for me. My laugh became crazy scearm. It hurt even my own ears but it’s wildness was fascinating. I didn’t want to be like this but sometimes you have to have some fun because I love feeling of power and fear. The feeling tasted so sweet. As sweet as blood.

- Here I come!

I whispered to hallway. I was just like my mother. I admit it. Screaming filled the hallways under it and surround my sences. I laughed to humans, They were scared of only little girl. I gave a laugh to my own joke in the darkness like a psychopath.

silly story

ok, imma start this off by giving you rats some potential warnings:

MY AU!!! This is not canon!!!

gays.

some graphics or smth

my crappy writing style (i am using a phone on a notes app so it’s gonna be worse.)

light curse words a lot

heavy curse words rarely but they are censored to the point where you still know what they are

Stevehero

Hero, just… Hero… he knows what he did

oh, and here; some songs to listen to while reading cus i’m insane (pls give me more songs to use 4 it if you have some ideas!!)

Apple Music - Web Player

Stevehero by ☆ClownnzArounding☆ on Apple Music

Playlist · 41 Songs

alrighty, that should be it, time to eat my children’s;

(also some curse words that are in the middle are censored so i don’t get yelled at)

oh: if it’s purple then it’s Hero’s thoughts, blue means Steve’s thoughts

[this is a 3rd person pov but over Hero]

Pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, the sound of a rain storm brings joy to those who are inside doing rainy day activities, some sleep to it, others do crafts, or read. Wind chimes that decorate the porches of houses rang out into the quiet rain filled night, calling out for those around them to hear their tunes and bring a smile on the faces of those whom hear. The town was mostly empty for the time being - due to the rainstorm obviously- but there were a few people here and there, walking their dogs, carrying groceries, going for a walk. Though they all had one thing in common; they all had a raincoat or umbrella. Something Hero did not. It was dark out, and cold, and his hair was all wet and sticking to his neck and face, sure, but did Hero care? H*ll no, why should he? It wasn’t like he was out there to find the ugly cursed cube. Who would think he was doing that? Well, maybe he was, for good reason! He was finally going to kill Steven. And when he succeeds he will be as happy as a monster could get. After all it wasn’t like he got caught in the freezing cold rain and forgot a jacket. Noooo… He was indestructible compared to Earth’s weather and other stuff. 

As he walked up the path on the mountain to said hideous cursed cube, he grabbed onto his arms and tightened his grab on them, leaving nail marks which turn his arm a bit red. Once he was finally up the dreaded mountain, he walked up to the door and was about to just open the door but instead…

knock knock knock

“Damn it Hero! Why did you f*cking knock?! Stupid! Stupid! Stu—“

crreeeeaaaaakkkkk. He knocked. And Steven opened the door before Hero could dart away from embarrassment.

“Oh, hey there! Hero…? What are you doing at my door in the middle of the night during a rainstorm?” Steven looked at him like he was worried. Hah! What kind of idiot does he think he is?? Looking worried?

“Nothing! I merely came here to slay you and claim full power! The weather is no problem against I, the great and powerful: Hero!” Although a great performance, Steven looked as if he doesn’t buy it. His face looked like he just witnessed a robber trying to say he wasn’t robbing the bank, with the money in his hand. But his gaze shifted from Hero’s face and to his arms that were shaking from the cold with nail marks indented into them. And just like that his gaze… Softened…

“Cocoa…? It might warm you up a bit? And once you have your full strength back, you could then try slicing my head off. Maybe you’ll finally get it clean off or a cut on my neck! Unlike Alex…” Steve grabs Hero’s arm gently and drags him into the hideous cursed cube against his will. And like an idiot hands Hero his warmest hoodie. 

“Wha-! Steven! You imbecile! We are meant to be enemies! You aren’t allowed to give me a hoodie and offer me cocoa!” Hero tries to plea only for Steven to pull the hoodie over Hero and pull him into a tight hug resting his head atop of Hero’s.

“Whatever you say… Anyways, what type of cocoa do you like best? Dark, milk, white… others I don’t know the name of??” Steven wrapped his arms tighter around Hero, only to let go and walk towards his kitchen. Hero was slightly disappointed the hug ended so quickly, only slightly disappointed! But he frowned and quickly changed his expression to annoyed when he realized his expression.

“Please as if a great being as I needed or wanted cocoa! If I may remind you I am all powerful and do not need cocoa—“ Hero started getting dramatic again, only for Steven to cut him off.

“Dark cocoa with milk and sugar it is…” Steven rolls his eyes as he fills a kettle up with water and sets it on the stove, letting it boil. “I think you left a book you were reading when you were here last, you wanna finish it or just read it while the water boils?”

“Which book did I leave? I don’t remember leaving a book here” Hero walks towards the bookshelf and studies the books there while Steven walks over. 

“I think I put it… Oh, here it is! ‘Don’t want you like a best friend’ …Don’t look at me like that!” Hero death stares Steven in fear but making it look like he’s about to commit murder. {great book btw, it’s rlly good! gay too - ☆CA☆} 

“You didn’t read it did you?” Hero grabs onto Steven’s arm and puts a death grip onto it, leaving nail marks in Steven’s arm as his face goes red and heats up.

“N-no! why would I?! I only read books people recommend to me or let me read!” Steven tries to hold eye contact but fails after the ‘no’ he stutters as he looks around the room trying to not look Hero in the eyes while his face only gets redder and redder.

“Look at me in the eyes damn it!” Hero’s grip tightens “…Why do you look like a damn tomato?!”

*insert whatever the heck a kettle makes when it’s done boiling the water*

[Switch 3rd person pov over to Steve]

“Oh thank god! Thank you kettle for saving me! Good god that was kinda hot if I’m being honest with myself…”

Steve quickly walked over to the kettle to remove it from the stove and stop it screaming, luckily - and sadly - Hero had extremely sensitive ears when it comes to loud noises, so the kettle screeching made him let go of Steve so he could cover his ears. 

Steve grabbed two mugs and started making Hero’s cocoa first, once he finished it made sure to add a few marshmallows and then picked it up and went over to Hero and helped him back up and out of his curled up ball on the floor and over to the couch in front of the television.

“You want a blanket? Or is my hoodie and some cocoa enough to warm you up?” Steve said as he sat down next to Hero and turned on a movie the two had started watching but never finished because Hero fell asleep and Steve didn’t want him to miss a lot of it.

“I’d prefer if we cuddled…” Hero mumbled under his breath blushing a little bit “No, no, this is fine.”

Steve’s face stayed the same and worried that Hero turned down the blanket offer. But on the inside he was screaming with victory after hearing what he assumed Hero didn’t mean to say.

“Alright, well you can hit play on the movie, I’m going to get my cocoa ready!” 

~time skip cause my lazy self doesn’t have to time and energy to lay out all of that, all you need to know is they finished the movie and ended up falling asleep cuddling on the couch (also I like thinking that Hero is short enough that Steve can do cute stuff with him<3)~

As Steve slowly opened his eyes he rubbed them and looked at the clock on the wall. 

9:28

Wait… 9:28?! As in A.M?? Did the two really pass out cuddling on the couch all night??? Hold on, why’s he even worrying? He doesn’t have a job, he’s farms and takes care of his animals. That’s his job. But nonetheless the farming can wait, right now, he’s cuddling his literal soulmate. Might as well enjoy it before Hero wakes up and decides it’s time to kill him…

muwah 💋 {or smth idk}

Steve gently places a soft kiss on Hero’s head, as he then nuzzles a tiny bit closer without waking him up. 

“Damn… I wish this could last forever, but he’s gonna wake up and possibly kill me soon… His hair smells nice… Almost like.. like vanilla… My favorite scent… That’s just a coincidence..! It’s not like he actually listened to me rambling about things I like, besides that’s a common scent for soap! Not planned out whatsoever! Hah… Who the h*ll am I kidding? I know damn well he wouldn’t ever consider or think about me unless it was to plan out my death….”

Steve happens to find himself in an overthinking anxiety attack state, only for a soft yawn to knock him out of it. Steve blinks a few times and removes his head from where he was nuzzling into Hero. 

“Hm..? Oh, good morning Hero. Did ya sleep well? Are you hungry?” Steve asks as he realizes that Hero woke up. 

“Shut it…” Hero shuffles around and shoves his head into Steve’s chest. “Let me sleep you dimwit…”

“You’ve been asleep for hours already though… Could you at least maybe tell me how you slept? I’ll shut up after! And I’ll leave you alone to go make breakfast for when you’re ready to eat!” Hero grips onto Steve’s shirt with one of his hands. “Hero? You okay..? Oh, do you want me to—“

Hero cuts Steve off by pulling his face into a kiss with both hands, Steve’s hands softly grab onto Hero’s waist only for Hero to pull away and shove his head into the nook of Steve’s neck. Which only leaves Steve to get redder and more surprised.

“Finally you shut up…” Hero grabs onto one of Steve’s hands and holds it while he slowly falls back asleep. “Now go back to sleep, Steven…”

*{insert silly error screen here:3}* “What the h*ll just happened??? Did he- I- wha— Holy crap he actually just- …His hand is soft :D”

Steve looks down at Hero with a giant smile on his face, then he softly places a kiss on Hero’s head. Which leads to Hero kissing Steve’s neck.

“Steven, I said go back to sleep…” Hero

mumbles just load enough for Steve to hear.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize..”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go back to sleep. Though could you not kiss my neck— Ow!” Hero bit  Steve’s neck :]

“I said go to sleep.” Hero proceeds to then somehow pass out.

“Alright, whatever you say…” Steve closes his eyes “I love you… Hero..”

Steve falls asleep, leaving Hero staring at him with wide eyes and a soft blush.

“I-“ Hero stutters a bit then softly whispers with a smile “I love you too, Steven.”

solar sentience

“Billiiiiii!!”

I heard her call my name from across the street. I hadn’t seen Marusya since Porto. I had to stop myself from running out into traffic to greet her. i had made that mistake before and my knee still gives me trouble. but once there was a break in the traffic i dashed.

she saw me coming and opened her arms to embrace me. i ran into her with such velocity that she fell back, luckily catching both of us because i wouldn’t have been able to.

“i missed you so much, Marusya.” i made no effort to stop the tears from flowing from my eyes. “it’s been too long.”

“we talked for a hour yesterday, you goofball.” we did. we talked on the phone often and had a bad habit of losing track of time. even just to establish when and where we’d meet led us to a long tangent about my travel frustrations. “but it’s so nice to see that smile again.” i grinned even harder.

Marusya led me to the cafe. she had been staying in the city the past few months with friends i would meet later that evening. i was lucky enough that my work brought me to Europe, and luckier still that my path crossed with hers. it seemed predestined.

she took me to her favorite cafe. she loved the pastries here and that was absolutely enough for me. the weather was beautiful today so we sat on the terrace. i found it somewhat overstimulating to be honest. i was distracted by the visibility of the old and intricate architecture that populated the landscape of this part of town. that’s to say nothing of all the people and traffic noise outside, but i did my best to focus on our conversation. it was all i wanted. that and a cigarette. i was surrounded by Europeans smoking over their coffees and i knew it was only a matter of time before i broke my streak. it wasn’t a long streak anyhow.

“i can’t believe it’s been three years already. it’s surreal.”

“i know. it feels at once like yesterday and a lifetime ago that we met.” 

we worked together while we were both in school in Santa Barbara. we bonded quickly over our mutual hobbies and interests. primarily music and philosophy. in that time in our life we both desperately needed someone to talk to.

“yeah, honestly i can’t believe this is how things turned out for us. if you had told me then this is where we’d end up, i’d have laughed. and probably made sure it didn’t.”

“then i'm glad i didn’t tell you.” Marusya smiled. i couldn’t help but smile back. Marusya continued, “i’m sorry again though. i still feel responsible for how things played out in Washington.”

“it hardly matters at this point though. Terra gets released in a few months; i’m sure she won’t hesitate to forgive you.”

“i hope you’re right. i hope she’s as gracious as you’ve been.” Marusya stared into her tea. i hated to see her look so guilty. she deserved to be at peace.

“gracious? i had nothing to forgive, no matter what you tell me.” years ago she had been instrumental in my decision to transition. for that i owed her my life. i would never shake that feeling, even if she was responsible for my wife’s prison sentence. but that was between them.

Marusya started to get emotional, but she was better at keeping it at bay than i was. “i still have a hard time talking about it. i wanted to today, but now i don’t know if i can.”

“well damn, i could’ve brought my cellular then,” i joked. Marusya had asked me to leave it at my hotel. i knew the routine from our community organizing days. if we hadn’t been so diligent about our comms procedures she would be with Terra now, and i’d likely never see either released.

“have you heard from anyone since Terra’s sentencing?”

“no, i thought it best to cut ties with them. i didn’t want to push my luck. but i miss a few of them.”

“maybe when Terra’s back you’ll hear from them."

“i hope not. for her sake.”

“how are things between the two of you anyway? as good as always i hope.”

“actually they’re not. we stopped speaking. or writing letters rather.”

“no! what? why? what happened between you two?”

“she admitted to cheating on me in the clink.”

“what? you lie. tell me you’re lying.”

“i wish i was.”

“are you two done for good?”

“oh god no. at least i hope not. im just upset and we agreed it best that we don’t speak again until she’s up for parole.”

“at least that’s soon.”

“not soon enough.”

“it should’ve been me.”

“you should’ve been the one she cheated with? yeah honestly i’d’ve preferred that.”

“actually Lake did say that they’d forgive an infidelity only if it was her of all people.”

“what? seriously?”

“yeah, Terra has that effect on more people than you realize. i never told you about it because i didn’t want you to feel threatened.”

“i wouldn’t’ve felt threatened.”

“...or get any ideas.”

“okay, fair.”

“i still should’ve taken that rap for her. i never got to apologize.”

“you will one day. one day soon.”

“crazy how one little mistake could have such consequences.”

“just be grateful that was the only mistake you made.”

“i am. and thanks again.”

“for what? i didn’t do anything for you.”

“you saved me.”

“Terra saved you. i just played along.”

“then extend my thanks.”

“i’ve thanked her enough.”

i was growing tired of thinking about about my last days with the both of them. i was at my wits’ end. i excused myself to bum a cigarette from another patron. Marusya used the opportunity to get another tea.

it felt good to smoke again, and to see Marusya face to face, even if we still had some tensions to iron out. we had been unable to discuss it directly, on the chance that a bug might overhear. Marusya was still wanted by the FBI for her connection to the Nerysian Resistance Cell.

i inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill me, and consume me. the nicotine made me feel light, made it hurt less to relive the past.

the Nerysians were the cell responsible for the assassination of Chief Justice Robert Jackson, the first Supreme Court Justice to be assassinated in the country’s history, but not the last. it seems like a minor incident after the events that followed, and i spent a long time hoping that the FBI agreed. luckily i have yet to be proven wrong.

ultimately, the only Nerysian who would do time in connection to that crime was Terra. just our luck. our friend Lake who pulled the trigger was murdered by police on sight. sadly, the trigger was attached to a pistol registered in Terra’s name. she had given her gun to Marusya when there was a string of robberies in her building. Marusya, in the midst of returning it, left it in the trunk of Lake’s car, which was commonly used for Nerysian activity. this led to it being mixed in with the unmarked arms that had shared the trunk that evening. the next morning Lake had taken that gun of all guns.

after recovering Lake’s body and Terra’s gun, it was only a matter of time before they came for her too. rather than implicate others, Terra took responsibility. the rest of the cell took the cue to go into hiding. we had covered our tracks well enough that the only charge they could pin to her was giving Lake the gun. she even convinced the court that she knew nothing of the assassination plans. they never knew of the other illegal rifles and pistols that Lake had access to. they never knew the truth of the Nerysians.

however, they did know that Marusya and Lake shared a house. scared that she could be used to expose an entire network of revolutionaries, Marusya fled the country. i helped her escape to Europe, by way of Portugal, where i had enough connections and spoke the language well enough to get her a stack of Euros, a fake passport and a train ticket to get deeper into the continent. she took refuge with her leftist connections from her post grad years in Eastern Europe. she seems to like it here, but it was hard to tell under all her grief.

Marusya returned, tea in one hand and pastry in the other, as i finished my cigarette.

“you smoked that so fast.”

“yeah, i should’ve savored it.”

“don’t make the same mistake with this,” she remarked handing me the pastry. “do you want to talk about something else? i think the heavy convos can wait.”

we sat to resume our convo. “yes, please. did you have something in mind?”

“yes!” Marusya’s face lit up, her demeanor shifting immediately. “i was reading earlier about the new advancements in cold fusion tech.”

“really?” this was a topic we both had followed since scientists started making advancements when we were in college. it was one thing that gave us hope for our global future.

“yes! they’re creating more and more energy everyday.” her enthusiasm comforted me. “it’s so exciting.”

“where is this happening?”

“at a new nuclear research facility in Vienna.”

“very cool. it’s about time.”

“i agree, it’s a shame that it took such extreme global circumstances to motivate the EU to fund it. but better late than never.”

“definitely. i just can’t help but be concerned with how this tech could be privatized and capitalized. this could solve so many problems across the globe, but that idea feels naive.”

“yeah, we need to be careful with these utopian ideas. every utopia is a dystopia for someone after all.”

“no argument there, but i don’t know what we will do if the people in power choose utopia. it seems almost certain.”

“we will feast upon their flesh,” Marusya replied flatly. “wasn’t that always the plan?” she looked at me earnestly, her eyes wide, as she pulled apart a piece of the pastry.

“yes, but i still pray it never comes to that.”

“too bad your prayers haven’t gotten a response. im sure the sun would know what’s in store for us.”

i thought that was a odd thing to say, at least for Marusya. “what do you mean?”

“wait, did you not hear that the sun is sentient? do you not read the news while you’re on tour?”

“i stopped reading the news when Terra left.”

“she didn’t leave. she was taken from you.”

“don’t remind me.”

“oh sorry. you’re right.”

“what are you talking about then?”

“okay so a few weeks ago some researchers published some really fascinating data that i thought you’d have heard about.”

“it’s been hard to keep up with all the extraterrestrial science that’s been happening since the shattering.”

“yes, definitely. but this is more legit than a lot of the speculation that’s coming out these days. essentially, astrophysicists were able to prove that within the sun there is energy flowing between atoms. and that this energy flows in patterns remarkably similar to the flow of electricity between neurons in the human brain.”

“oh, that is interesting.”

“isn’t it?” Marusya’s enthusiasm always filled me with joy. i missed seeing that in her face for so long.

“what exactly are we supposed to make of that though?”

“well, essentially the prevailing interpretation is that the sun is functioning like a brain, but given that the mass of the sun is so much larger than a brain, there’s practically infinitely more synapses with infinitely more connections, so to speak. and the conclusion researchers are coming to is that the sun is ‘hyper-sentient’ and is observing and on some level comprehending the universe that surrounds it.”

i was stunned. i didn’t know how to respond to that information.

Marusya continued, “i mean obviously we’ll never be capable of understanding exactly how the sun ‘thinks’ or how it experiences reality, or whatever hyper-sentience might imply. but the implications are fascinating.”

“you’re right. i was shocked. i don’t even know what to say.”

“really? i thought you’d have something to say given your sun worshiping tendencies. i really surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“well, this is validating. i feel like i already knew somehow.”

“maybe somehow we all did. we’re all waves on one ocean anyway. the sun is just like a tsunami.” 

i really liked this conjecture. i knew Marusya thought about life along these lines and i knew that she was right about the nature of reality. “but given that our sun is just one star of one hundred billion, and that’s just within our galaxy, are they theorizing that all stars are sentient?”

“yes, that’s exactly the conclusion they’ve come to. all stars have been reclassed as ‘hyper–sentient beings.’ they’re already calling them ‘HSBs’ and it’s opening an entire new subfield of astrophysics. evidently our search for extraterrestrial life had too narrow of a scope.”

“does this mean they’ll finally stop looking for little green men?” Marusya and i had both long considered this a futile effort and a waste of ever-dwindling resources.

“almost definitely not. everyone still wants to know who built the moon.” Marusya said this almost as if she did as well.

“they want to know who they can declare war on.”

“sure, but maybe we need to be humbled. as a species.” Marusya was right. the hubris of man had gotten out of hand in the past decade, saying nothing of course of the centuries that preceded it.

i nodded as i ate the last bite of pastry. Marusya was right about them, and i’m sure she was right about everything else. but i needed time to process it.

i looked to the sun now. or as much as i could given its unbearable brightness this time of day, this time of year. its rays illuminated big fluffy clouds, clouds taller and wider than any castle in Europe. i wondered if it could feel me, if it could feel the warmth that i felt in that moment, from radiation that connected us directly. i felt so small then; i was one of nearly two million people in this city alone. this city that were its area transposed onto the surface of the sun, would appear so miniscule it would not be detectable by even our most advanced instruments and our smartest scientists.

could it feel what i was feeling? did we only exist as an extension of it? as a cosmic appendage that was willed into existence so that this HSB may be capable of experiencing its own beauty? if so, did that change anything for us? would that bring us to reassess, re-examine, and ask ourselves, “how do we live?”

i knew i wouldn’t come to any worthwhile conclusions now, or soon, or maybe even as long as i lived. we were in a new era of gods greater than ourselves, and for once in human history plainly observable to exist. so why did this bring our own existence into question? i wanted to get into all the questions that raced through my mind then and there, but it was time to leave the cafe. maybe it was best to give myself time to collect my thoughts, and to reground myself with the exciting prospect of exploring a very old city with my oldest friend. Marusya always had a way of bringing me back to reality, no matter how strange reality became.

“what do you want to do first?” Marusya asked me, smiling at me big as ever. i knew from that alone we would be alright.

“buy a pack of cigarettes,” i responded without missing a beat. for the first time since i landed in Europe i had other things on my mind, but i knew from experience that relapsing on my nicotine addiction would keep me from relapsing on the designer psychedelics that captured my youth and were widely available on the continent. i wanted now more than ever to dive back in, to take a hero’s dose and explore this fresh perspective of the cosmos. i wanted to reconnect with our celestial mother, who gave us life and watched closely over us. i wanted to, but i knew i couldn’t let Marusya see me like that, not again. i knew if i wasn’t clean when Terra was released there would be no prospect of her returning to me. i knew that the two of them meant more to me than any drug. on second thought, i decided against the cigarettes, and Marusya led me deeper into this city as old as our measurement of years themselves, guiding me further into the past as she once had guided me into my present. we talked and we laughed and we sang and we cried, and we rekindled the friendship we had sacrificed for the greater good of humanity. for the first time in years, it felt like a worthy sacrifice.

terra

i remember the first time i saw her. she defended my honor shortly after. i have loved her ever since.

i knew better than to be in that bar alone. but this was a manic phase for me so all bets were off. i was using again, and doing my best to maintain a social life without many friends. and for once, i excelled. at least by my own standards. this night that meant drinking with my lonesome in a random dive.

i had never patronized this particular establishment. but there were bikes out front so i knew what to expect. at least i thought i did. i could never have anticipated that i would walk into her life on this night of all nights. a moonless night nonetheless.

the very moment i stepped inside i noticed her. curls as red and voluminous as hers are hard to miss. i was instantly consumed by layers of reactive emotion: lust, envy, insecurity, pride, panic. it took all of my attention not to show every racing thought on my face. i sat at the bar with my back to the pool tables, where she talked and laughed with her biker friends. i thought it best to keep her out of sight and out of mind.

i drank quickly that night. i was uncomfortable and i knew i stood out, but i had enough experience fitting myself in where i didn’t belong that i was ultimately unconcerned. being noticeable was unavoidable and i assumed myself capable of managing the unwanted attention. of course a few men tried talking to me; i did what i could to entertain them but i didn’t have the energy. after a couple more drinks that i did not pay for, one man pushed his luck. and i pushed back. not literally, not yet. he stood too close and breathed too heavy. he tried to ask about my braids and my jewelry, presumably in a lame attempt to connect with me over something personal. i suppose it is not a despicable tactic, but i despised it. i had no patience to explain my culture to a white man, or to bear the inevitable microaggressions. but i had been trapped and was feeling sassy after a couple drinks, so of course i had to call him out as soon as he asked about my blood quantum. i don’t care to relive that conversation, but i’ve often relived the following moments.

as his tone shifted from inquisitive to offended to offensive, others began to notice. i hadn’t the sense or sobriety to de-escalate, and like i said this was one of my manic phases. so i mocked, and he yelled, and before i could comprehend what i had gotten myself into i had to get myself out. but for once i couldn’t see an exit. and that’s when she came to my rescue. when i heard a woman’s voice interject from behind me, i swiveled in my bar stool and found myself face to face with a goddess. a goddess of war nonetheless, with a face so full of freckles and fury that i was instantly disarmed.

they seemed to have history. they seemed to have pre-existing beef. but either way she was as committed to escalation as i had been only a moment before. she told him not to waste his time, she told him to leave me alone, she told him to go back to fucking mannequins, whatever that meant. he called her a bitch and a dyke and she kept her cool. but as soon as tranny had left his lips i heard glass shatter. next was all of a flash of light to me. a sudden commotion and i was dragged from the bar. i thought i was carrion, but it had been devotees of my new savior that gotten me out of there. it was a relief, and in my one glance back at the brawl that had ensued i was filled with gratitude. this was just as immediately interrupted by the roar of motorcycle, and as if i had died in that bar and gone to heaven, i turned once again to my newfound idol, now revving her engine and gesturing me to mount her steed behind her. i hesitated for the smallest moment, maybe because i didn’t believe my luck or maybe to capture a clear image i could return to once my luck ran up. im glad i took that moment. 

it lingered in my mind’s eye for some time, and before i knew what had happened or how to feel i was holding onto a total stranger for dear life. as we sped down a empty freeway, cold air cutting into my watery eyes, i buried my face into her soft curls. i realized that i was wearing her helmet, that she had sacrificed her own safety several times over to secure mine. there are no words in the english language that can adequately express the gratitude i felt in that moment. it was all i could do to hold on with every string of every atom of my being, thankful to feel safe for the first time in my life.

**********

her name is Terra, she told me. a gorgeous name, did she pick it herself i asked. she did not, she was named for her mother.

she took me to her apartment. told me it’d be a calm place for me to sober up. i certainly didn’t mind. especially not after seeing it. i had no expectation of something luxurious or tidy or well decorated, and in that sense it met my expectations. but it was her domain and i was in awe. i took in every detail, eager to learn what i could about my new hyperfixation. a large mattress on the floor with perfectly disheveled sheets, a whiteboard displaying chemical equations, plants everywhere. an impeccably neat kitchen, a disheveled record collection, no visible closet. stacks of books. a dozen candles. empty wine bottles. only one chair. we sat together on the floor on her bed. this made me nervous.

but she wasn’t tense and that put me at ease a bit. she wasn’t talkative either, and i think ultimately that’s what intimidated me. i wanted to interrogate her motivations for helping me, but i thought it best not to push my luck. she seemed unphased by the whole evening and i tried my best to mimic her stoicism.

i helped bandage her hand. she had cut it on the broken glass she shoved into that man’s face. she asked where i learned first aid. so i told her about my years as a boy scout, growing up in Colorado. learning to survive the harsh winters without resources. learning to braid hair and sing songs and practice witchcraft. she laughed at that.

she asked me if i had any new moon rituals. i didn’t; i grew up a sun worshiper. she insisted we do hers together. she made me a cup of tea, offered me bread. i hadn’t realized i was so hungry and when she told me she made it herself, i certainly couldn’t decline. she lit candles and incense and told me that i didn’t need to say prayers but i needed to keep quiet while she said hers. afterwards she put on a Dexter Gordon record and we resumed conversation, much to my delight.

i told her i envied the density of her freckles and her curl pattern. it was tighter than mine. i told her about my stay in the hospital after my first attempt. about the 2spirit elder who gave me guidance when i wanted it least and needed it most. how they told me that my freckles were blessings from the sun. each individual spot a distinct blessing that would shape my life and guide my future. how the curls in my hair are a blessing from the moon, our celestial matriarch pulling my locks towards the heavens in celebration of my existence. that to waste my life and these blessings would be a dishonor. that i deserved a better death than that.

i told her she had more blessings than me, that the moon loved her more. she laughed at that.

she told me about how she grew up, with several brothers and no maternal figure to keep them in line. about how she left her family at an early age to pursue an education abroad, on a scholarship of course. how in Europe she fell in love with American jazz music. how she was embarrassed to admit it. how that taught her that everything is more admirable from a distance. how when you’re too close to your source you get caught in negative feedback loops that impair your judgment. 

i told her about my art, and she told me about hers. her voice was soft and low. smooth and syrupy like honey. i listened to it for hours and wanted hours more. but after some time we just sat in silence. as the first light of day slowly worked its way in, we found ourselves drifting into sleep in each other’s arms. 

Terra woke me a couple hours later. she was kind enough to provide me with coffee before driving me home, again on her motorcycle, which excited me as much the second time as the first. it was a very nice bike too; a real vintage model that she took pride in having rebuilt. i admired the gleam in her eyes as she told me about it. she was so clearly full of passion, not for motorcycles but for life itself.

on the stairs of my tenement i told her i admired that. how she seemed to live so much life in so little time. how she had so much life ahead of her. that i wanted to know how her story played out, as interesting as it’s been. i towered over her, standing a step above her, and lost myself in the intensity of her upwards gaze. i finally asked her, i needed to know.

“why did you intervene last night? why did you help me only to incite a riot?”

“well that guy you were talking to has a reputation. i know who he is; he has hurt my friends before.”

“so you saw an opportunity for revenge,” i smirked.

“i can’t honestly say no,” she admitted. “but i had my eyes on you since you walked in. and you were in more danger than i think you realized.”

“so you saw more more than one opportunity.” she chuckled in response. “do you make a habit of saving damsels in distress?” i continued.

“yes.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. i thought at the very least maybe i could enjoy my moment as object of her attention a little longer, before the next damsel comes along.

the sunlight shone through the canopy of maple leaves. it felt warm on my skin, and the sensation slowed my racing thoughts. Terra held my wrist in one hand, gently rubbing her thumb on the inside of my wrist. she had such strong hands, and seemed unaware of how intimate that had felt. i wondered how much of that was an act she put on for all her damsels. but i didn’t want to know. it was a good act and i wanted to feel, at least in this moment, that she was acting for me and me alone.

the tension was palpable. she stared into my eyes intently, with no expression on her face. i felt naked, i felt she could see right through me. i didn’t know what to say, but i knew i didn’t want to say goodbye. i knew any front i put on would go to waste. i knew i had to be honest with her and myself or we would both recognize the lies. instead i let my mind go blank. i let my eyes sink into the deep brown pools that gazed back at me. the light reflecting on their surface, the texture of her irises, the depth of her soul. suddenly i grabbed the lapels of her black leather jacket, unaware of how much time had passed since we spoke. i pulled into her to me, or more accurately i pulled myself into her.

“kiss me,” i told her firmly.

and she did! she kissed the freckle on the tip of my nose. it was short and it passed swiftly but i knew it was a blessing i would carry as long as i lived.

“what are you doing today?” she asked me, brushing off any awkwardness i felt. im sure she felt none.

“i need to clean my apartment. probably do laundry and make a curry.” i knew i was going to spend the day riding one high while coming down from another. “you?” i asked in response, trying to feign disinterest.

“i have a class at the college. i haven’t made up my mind about the rest of the day.”

“at the city college?”

“yes”

“compelling topic?”

“figure drawing actually. we have a nude model today so i can’t be absent.”

“do you like drawing nudes?” i asked cheekily.

“i would,” she told me, “but our prof only uses male models. i haven’t decided if it’s cause of some internalized misogyny or just a little kink of hers.” i laughed. “no, seriously. there’s a lot of rumors of her inappropriate behavior. at this point it’s more of a gossip class than anything.”

“that does sounds like fun,” i agreed, thinking only of how many girls she had gotten to model for her sketches in her apartment. if she did that as a ploy or out of genuine dedication to her art. if she took advantage of those girls, if she was a Picasso in her own right. if she kept her clothes on while she fucked them. i wanted to find out first hand. the desire burned in my chest. i exhaled and let it go.

“im sorry, i need to leave now.” that was the last thing i wanted to hear. “but it was really lovely meeting you. i hope i salvaged your night.”

“salvaged?! you made my whole fucking month!” i exclaimed. i hoped my enthusiasm would get me a little farther with her. “i hope i didn’t ruin yours. i’m sorry for derailing it.”

“don’t be.”

“would you like to see me again in that case?”

“you’re too bright to be asking such dumb questions.”

“then when would you like to see me again?”

“tomorrow night,” she said as if it was non-negotiable. i had no intention of trying. “i’ll pick you up and buy you a meal.”

“oh you don’t need to do all that,” i protested through the ear to ear smile that had come over me.

“too late. i’ve already committed to it,” she said as if it were her solemn duty to show me a good time. “i’ll pick you up at sundown.”

“i’ll be here.”

“good.”

neither of us turned to leave. i froze, feeling the awkwardness that remained between us. i wished she had kissed me.

“one thing before i go,” i was thankful to hear her interject. in one smooth motion she took a step as to be level with me and grabbed me by the neck. she was strong and with her other hand on my hip she easily pushed my back against the wall. and then she finally kissed me.

a bolt of electricity shot through my entire body. her lips were tender, making up for her lack of gentleness. they were parted slightly, and with the force of her face into mine i could feel her teeth on my bottom lip. for one brief second she gave into the same burning desire i had felt for hours.

i hope i never forget the expression on her face as she pulled it back from my own. she looked happy. plainly and purely and the warmth of her smile radiated outwards, illuminating parts of my inner self i hadn’t seen since childhood. i think it was in that moment i fell in love.

“goodbye for now, Billi,” she said in a dulcet tone.

“see you tomorrow, Terra,” praying she would not prove me wrong.

as she continued down the steps i watched her go. her red hair was so much more beautiful in the daylight. i took note of every complexity of the color and texture as quickly as i could, lest it be the last i saw of it. i wanted to bask in this moment. i lit a cigarette and sat in the middle of the stairwell, waiting eagerly for my armored knight to return, to rescue me from my tower and whisk me away to paradise.

ipbm test

i witnessed the shattering of our moon. although many will claim now to have experienced the moment, having in reality only seen the footage, on that day same as any few were looking to the sky before they heard the booms. and everyone heard the booms.

the last week of december is hard on everyone. holiday travel leaves far too much time to think, to contemplate the past year and its changes and what pain and pleasure will come with the next. this year i was happy to travel with my lover.

we flew to maryland this year. it was a fine xmas, snowless unfortunately but that’s to be expected in our warming climate. i was nervous about introducing her to my mother, and more so my sister, but the trip was uneventful. that is until we left.

we woke up late that morning, having wasted too much time the previous evening drinking wine and packing our bags and indulging in the intimacy we have been blessed to find in each other. snow in the north left us without concern, only a three hour delay. we chose to spend the time in our terminal; she thought it prudent, i saw an opportunity.

we spent all of two hours lounging on that ugly carpet, sharing one set of wired earbuds and one masterpiece of a conversation. the chaos of the previous week left us with little time for each other, all of which was spent maintaining our affections and our respective body heats in the chill nights on the bay. i don’t admit it much, but my recollection of this day is dominated by those hours we spent with our backs against each other. how she braided my hair, how she laughed more than usual, how she seemed optimistic for our future together; i burned these moments into the folds of my brain like petroglyphs on canyon walls.

a few days previous was the full moon. a cold moon on the eve of xmas is a special occasion for everyone. we spent this rarity as anyone would, and consequently have little memory of it. we were amongst many who wished they had savored the moment. had we known that was our final evening basking in the full glory of her beauty, everything would have been different. that was one lesson we all have to learn the hard way: you will one day gaze upon the face of the one you love for the final time, and you will be blissfully unaware.

her beauty had already begun waning by the end of the week. she was however still largely visible on this crisp and clear winter’s day. my memory is vivid; i stood at the window wall by the gate watching planes take off and land and take off again as i waited for her to return with snacks i could care less about. the sunlight glared off of every surface; the brightness was overwhelming and i sought solace in the moon. it was in this moment it shattered.

it is trite by now to describe it as surreal, especially with every aspect of our reality becoming increasingly so with each revolution. in the moment, i was so certain i was daydreaming. it just broke apart. it cracked and scattered itself like a projectile egg. and that was the last humanity saw of her face.

moments later sonic booms, at first to be foolishly assumed by many to be the sound of this great calamity, were heard in every region of the country. this was quickly deduced by some to be no more than the sound of martial mobilization, a well documented impulse in this country. the details would later be unceremoniously revealed in the following months of news coverage.

my lover returned to me snacks in hand and confused, but not as confused as me. i was speechless, and it was all i could do to point at the sky. as vividly as i remember the moment of shattering, i can imagine seeing again the tears well up in her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks, void of any other expression. i relived that moment every hour of every day for the next year.

in the next few hours we learned that this was the result of the first test of the space force’s new ipbm, the inaugural interplanetary ballistic missile. the test proved successful only by the means they had expected to measure. in every other sense, it was an unprecedented failure. it answered all our questions about space bombs, but raised infinitely more about humanity’s history and place in the cosmos.

this was the day we learned that the moon, our moon, the very one we’ve worshiped and written poems about, the one our dogs howled to, the one that pulled the tides while glimmering the beauty of its light across the water, was in reality, at least our reality, a hollow megastructure put in place in the far distant past by beings more ancient and more advanced than we are genuinely capable of comprehending.

in the following days, people talked about nothing else. in the following months people began asking questions. in the following years, scientists began investigating. we were never given answers.

not real ones, not satisfying or even conclusive ones. we can only imagine the implications for our past and our future. in the present the effects of our hubris are self-evident. you didn’t need to be an oceanographer to see that the tides had lost their potency. the impacts on aquatic species are still being documented. the extent to which it exacerbated the extremes of each season will always be up for debate. it was clear that this was a new era for humanity.

a reminder of this day will exist forever in our sky. a broken moon fragmented and strewn across the firmament. a reminder of this day will exist forever in her face. i will relive it with every tear that falls upon it. and those memories will resurface with only positive feelings of the lovely day i spent with her.

Albero di Limone available in Sonder Issue IV

Buttercup (Invincible)

Author’s note: as someone who lost my mom, I had to write for full mask mark losing his mom. Different circumstances, but still has grief all the same

Warnings: Death, grief

(Technically a short story for the Invincible AVRP AU but can be read by itself)

Characters: Full Mask Mark Grayson, Debbie Grayson

💛🕊💫🌼☁️ 💛🕊💫🌼☁️ 💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Mama!” His high pitched child voice squeaks out, running to her with open arms as if he forgot she was there with him. She smiles wider as he kneels down to his level, opening her arms wide. He giggles and crashes full force into her, knowing that she will always be there to catch him, to break his fall. He laughs as she hums “woah!” At his enthusiasm to ses her. She lifts him up into her arms, wrapping them around his tiny body to make sure he’s secure. Nothing will hurt him.

“Look mama!” He hands her the flower, and she gasps and takes it from his delicate hands.

“Woah, thank you, sweetie.” He beams at the praise.

“Do you know what flower this is?” He shakes his head in return.

“This is a buttercup, if you hold it under your chin and your chin is yellow it means you like butter” he gasps in return and lets his mother hold it under his chin.

“Oh, looks like someone likes butter” she teases and lightly tickles his tummy. He giggles in response before chuckling out, “now you try mama!”

She hums and holds it under her chin with a smile, the buttercup glowing a yellow hue under her chin, “is my chin yellow”

He gasps and nods, like this is some sort of witchcraft he’s never seen before.

“Let’s go see if your dad likes butter” Mark cheers as she lets him down, holding the buttercup as his tiny legs run to his dad.

—💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Do you remember that, mom? After that I have always picked you a buttercup or two on Mother’s Day until I was able to buy my own flowers. Always of a yellow variety though, it has to be in theme,” he chuckles weakly before talking again, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom”

Mark pressed a soft kiss to her temple, as tears dropped onto her pale skin. He pulls away, as he stares at her lifeless body. He can’t let go though, they haven’t had enough time together. They never got to go on a mother-son vacation, she will never see him have children, she will never get to even reach the age of 60. In his head, he hopes by some miracle she will gasp for air again, but he’s tried all he could. CPR didn’t even work but crushed her ribs.

He carried her over to the couch, hugging her close and he pulled a blanket over her. He doesn’t want her to get cold, she always hated the cold. Out during sunny days was what she loved. The yellow lilies, daffodils and buttercups were wilted on the floor, the water spilling, the vase shattered.

He runs a hand over her cheek, feeling her body slowly get cooler. He clenches his teeth, thinking of all the times she said I love you, and he wished he said them back. Or the times he would rush out of the house to play at a friend’s house and she looked disappointed that he didn’t stay to eat her cooking. Or when he would play with his dad more than her. What if she hates him for that? He’s sure hating himself right now for that.

He hums a tune to an old song they used to play in the car as he braids her hair. He knows she’s dead, even if he doesn’t want to accept it, but she deserves to look beautiful even after she lives.

—💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Mama?”

Debbie turns, she hadn’t heard Mark use that name in a while. He looks in shock, on the verge of tears, and he wraps her in an almost crushing hug- literally.

“Mark?! What’s gotten into you? We had dinner together yesterday. Are you happy to see me?” She chuckles it off.

“Mom, oh god- I want you to know I love you, you mean the world to me. You raised me better than this” He rambles as his voice quivers, his eyes watering and ready to overflow.

“Mark? Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I got you these”

He hands her a bouquet of lilies, daffodils and buttercups, with specks of dirt on them like he found them and pulled them from the dirt himself.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama…”

I need help renaming my story as it's prompted off of the title "white fang" which is already a very famous book

here's some bits in the book's: Frankensteinwhte type experiment gay romance between teen boys animal teeth car crash broken bones desperation

any like ideas on how to create a new title? (also yes my account is named after my writing because i really love it lol)

so i wrote the start of a piece fiction inspired by Frankenstein

it's a mlm, slightly horror, love story between an amoral scientist and his best friend who tragically dies at the start of the book

i'm obsessed with this story as it's the first bit of writing that made my teacher recognise my love for writing

it's called white fang as the prompt for the story was to use a pre-existing title so white fang by jack london

The Last Straw - Short Story

It’s been months since I’ve seen them—three months and nine days, to be exact. That last, monumental fight echoes through my mind as I sit, waiting, in our favorite cafe. It was a mutual decision to take this break, I remind myself. We just needed time to cool off from the fight and better ourselves before we tackled the whole “serious relationship” thing again. The idle chatter of the other customers, the clanking and hissing of the coffee machines, and the muted pop music emanating from the speakers on the wall do nothing to dull my nerves.

I glance at the clock above the door and, noting that they’re definitely late now, check my phone as well. No messages. My stomach clenches as I turn my attention back to the door. I shouldn’t be surprised by their tardiness, considering they've never been particularly concerned about timeliness.

The door swings open again and in they finally walk. In our months apart, nothing has changed in their appearance and, despite my anxiety, that warm feeling only they can create spreads through my chest.

“Can I get my usual? With almond milk this time, though. I’m on a diet.” Their voice cuts through the cafe as they order their drink. The barista nods, sets up their order, and charges them. They scan the cafe and, spotting me, saunter over to our table.

“Long time, no see, huh?” They greet me, giving me a relaxed smile. Without waiting for a response, they add, “I love what you did with your hair. I told you that color would look great on you.”

“Thank you! You were right, I really like it.” I comb my fingers through my hair as I speak, proud of this change I’d managed to make. “It’s faded a bit-”

“You should’ve cut it shorter,” they cut in, their smile giving way to a speculative frown. “That length makes your face look fat.” Their tone is remarkably light as they say it but it still makes my stomach drop. Of course I didn’t get it right.

Before I can come up with some sort of response, the barista calls out their order. The table shakes gently as I tap my foot against its leg and watch them retreat to the counter. It was just a comment about my hair; we can still salvage this.

“Excuse me, but I need a straw.” Again, their voice cuts through the cafe, this time dripping with that familiar annoyance of being inconvenienced.

“Oh, I’m sorry, someone must’ve just taken the last one,” the barista replies quickly, her voice squeaking at the threat of a true confrontation. “Give me just a second-”

“Is it really that hard to do your job?” They demand before the barista can even step away from the counter. “No wonder you all make such little money at these jobs. You idiots can’t even keep the straws stocked.” Without waiting for the barista’s response, they storm back to the table.

Silence settles over the cafe for a moment as the others watch their return to our table. They take their seat, pointedly pop the lid off of their cup, and take a sip. The flavor must meet their standards since they don’t speak up to the barista again.

They quietly study me over their coffee before asking, “How have you been? Haven’t fallen in love with someone new while I’ve been gone, have you?” Their tone almost feels joking but their fingers clench around their cup of coffee, white from the pressure.

“I’ve been fine,” I offer, carefully watching for any sort of new reaction as I speak. “I made a lot more progress with my novel, so I’ll be-”

“Did you meet anyone new?” They interrupt, their tone as sharp as the pinning stare they give me.

“No, I didn’t meet anyone new.” I match their tone as best I can, hoping it at least somewhat conveys my intention to not let them walk over me again. “I’ve been looking into querying-”

“Good,” they reply, leaning back in their chair and setting their coffee on the table. “I met someone pretty cool at a bar a little while back. They actually live in the other wing of your apartment complex. I barely even recognized it was the same building, they decorated it so nice. Your place doesn’t have to look like such a dump, you know. A few nice rugs, some original art, and boom, no one would be able to tell it was practically falling apart.”

I listen quietly, considering their comments as I sip my coffee. They ramble on, talking about their new job, their joy from seeing me again despite my ugly hair, and their plans to travel to the east coast. They’re in the middle of telling me about the pie they made earlier this week when I finally speak up again.

“Do you even care?” I ask. My leg bounces under the table, the only outward sign of my anxiety that I’ll allow. They raise their eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on their lips.

“Do I care? About what?” They question back. “About you? Yes. About my new job? Also, yes, even though it pisses me off sometimes. I care about a lot of things.”

“You don’t even-”

“I think the question here is whether or not you care about me.” They plow on, leaning forward and planting a firm hand on the table. “You disappeared for three months and didn’t contact me at all. We took this break for you and you took your merry time, torturing me with your silence. Your parents even said you’d told them not to talk to me.”

“I think that’s enough,” I say and, even though it comes out quieter than I intend, they stop talking immediately. They stare at me in shocked silence as I continue. “I thought we could make this work, but I’m done.” I get up from the table, retrieving my coffee as they process what I’ve just said.

“You can’t just break up with me,” they finally say, their eyes narrowing at me as they rise from their seat. “You think you’ll get on without me? Who else do you have-”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t contact me again,” I say, keeping my voice even as theirs rises. “Goodbye.” I turn and make my way to the barista’s counter, drop an extra tip in their jar, and leave the cafe.

This is a piece I wrote for a creative writing course I took recently. I don’t have any current plans to continue it but I thought it’d be nice to share it with you all! I hope you guys like it!