《Once upon a Night Time's Dream》 I worry although the fault was mine I worry although the fault was mine I had a dream last night. It was one that I did not wish to forget. Engraving it to my memories, deep into my mind and heart it was etched. The dream had took place in a space the size of a basketball court. Entrances and exits in shapes of doors place back and forth. The front and back of the area was walled. I'' do presumed it was a hall that I resided in. Standing next to me was my partner; a wolf to be specific. He, I naturally knew. Far too precious to be called or even known to be an ''it''. Like a family member, a best friend or maybe even on equal standing to that as a lover. His value was unparalleled or in that dreamlike space I was alone. He had grayish fur, a white undercoat. Streaks of black and tingles of beige lined all the way to his bushy tail. Strong, large paws and with a childish appearance he''d accompany me. His tail swished side by side gently as he stood by my side. He was the most beautiful being that I''d ever known; the most gentle. Nevertheless, deep down I knew. I knew that this beautiful being would be wholeheartedly willing to sacrifice his gentleness and purity into cruelty instead, and it would be for one such as me. I pat his firm yet soft head and his tail wagged harder. Just by being in his presence, I am in calm and bliss. We continued to stroll along the hall where a man of large stature came up to us. Taking note, his stature was a muscular one. He had an intimidating aura and would''ve passed fine for an easily manipulated muscle head. No brains, all brawl. Sides of justice and injustice would be delighted to have him. He might''ve just been a pawn to them after all. Wearing leather like pants, shirtless he was and reavealing the muscle and abs he supposedly seemed very proud of. Said man was walking towards us and a smile was plastered on his face; it wasn''t the good kind though. standing by the large statured man was another being as well. One that had held of equivalent value of my dearest as well. "Battle me." He said with a coarse and deep voice. None surrounded us. No presence of living creatures were here other than the 4 of us. Naturally, I knew. Accept the battle as foolish as it may be. In order to move on. Seconds, minutes or maybe even hours later I find myself against him. Voices crash and blood was spilt. Sweat trickle on both my opponents and my forehead. Our partners too looked rather exhausted. Loud, fast paced breaths and a yip of pain came from the mouth of my partner. He had been bitten and his front paw was temporarily paralyzed. His vitality was detiorirating and he was on the verge of falling; nonetheless like a cliche ending of a Demon king and it''s story''s protagonist we had won. Dragging his immobile paw across the floor board, his face would scrunch up after each step taken. Yet we won. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Time went and it'' d been an indefinite amount of time since that ''day'', ''minute'', ''hour'', ''second''. We find ourselves in a forest. Forestry was plentiful and various shades of green surrounded us; ranging from a dark green to a lively bright, light green. A tinge of golden could be seen from a vague spot among the trees as it was sunlight that shun through. The scent of earth and soil was sharp and where we sat was a soft patch of grass. The patch was different as it wouldn''t irritate your bum with its irritable leaves that stood bent and still managed to give you porcupine quills up your behind. The songs of birds and crickets echoed throughout the said forest. We were once again alone and I hugged him. Finally, the fear and anxiousness kicked in. As well as the relief and gratefulness. Almost strangled him but as if the world was at its very end and I would never accept a parting I hugged him. Expectedly, warm tears kicked in and before long I sat nuzzled in his neck sobbing. Ahh... It had been a long time too. It hurt so bad. As if gravity intensified in my body, my organs were all over the place. With a tight chest I grinded my teeth and with pressured lungs I curse myself. Such na?vety, such inconsideration. Almost every fault was found. Although my thinking was nowhere near straight and was but chaos; if one was made of glass, just how would they be able to be pieced up again? Hugging the gentle being in my arms even tighter, he looked forward. Proudly, confidently, he had won so what was I to be afraid of? There was no need to be so sad. He licked my tear stained face. My worry kicked me harder; right in the crack. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I''m sorry. So, so sorry." And I think he understood the deeper meaning of those words because he had closed his eyes and nuzzled with me further. I''m terrible. Beacause I... I recall what I couldnt see, hear and feel I recall what I couldn''t see, hear and feel I cover my ears as the sounds surround me. They were words, sentences and borne of the language I spoke throughout my entire life; but it was terrifying. "Thanks" "You''re welcome" "I''m sorry" "Don''t worry" "I''ll be back" "Wait" "Forgive me" "How could you? I ..." "What happened was..." "Don''t" "Will you help me?" "Consider it done" "Indeed," "Save us" Many more of these voices envelop me and they formed a chorus. Continuously haunting my mind; it was as if they couldn''t stop their singing. I pictured in a room; it was a very plain one, with blank walls the colours were non-existent. Basically, I couldn''t remember them. The room had a single wooden desk accompanied with a wooden chair as well. Above me was the sky and it was vast and never-ending. With strokes of deep blue and tinges of purple; a truly fantasy like sky. I stood on the cool metal flooring that was already present with no signs of imperfections. It was clean, shiny and cold. I could even see my reflection on the said floor. It was rather strange at first as the feeling of standing in your own feet was there, it soon vanished however after a brief moment of time. It was truly ironic as ''time'' held a different concept from where I was at the moment. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The loss of logical thoughts was resulted. I was thinking; yet wasn''t. The feeling was indescribable as my mind was strangely heavy yet comfortable. The vibrations of the strings from a certain instrument could be heard. It was sharp, clear and all so pleasant. Holding much of my attention it continued playing. Now, as there was no orchestra nor choir that was present or visibly in sight. Only I remained standing in the room. All the voices, instruments and all sorts of self proclaimed nonsense were heard only by me as they were in my head, obviously. I''m sane, at least I think I am. Said person is, with the exception of this moment, am not nor will I ever be. Not if I continue existing. Strange contrasts clash against one another. By the time I realized, everything was forgotten. But the arrival of night was unavoidable; and the chorus continued. Its stories were positively fascinating yet they spoke of vague grief and sadness. Day was gold in disguise as silence truly was golden. But night was in its own way, silver. It was dreadful. It was pleasant. They were my very own choir and storyteller. What do they mean? I understood nothing in actuality. Just a little more information Chapters or stories (depending on how you read it) are NON-permanent. They are in fact temporary even if they are to be never changing for the next decade or so. They''re basicaly editted as often or as free as I may be; so although one (chapter/story) might be a tad be choppy it''ll be fixed sooner later when I feel like it. Reason: everything''s made on the spot and irregularly. Most are referenced from real dreams as the title states. Some are random daydreams, well... Stories are never perfect yea? Just gotta change and fix it a bit. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. P.s. This little bit of information might change too. Yes, it''s for the lols. They''re basically just the same but with a few or less words though... Please, no longer The sound of never-ending raindrops echoes through each falling droplet. The vibrations felt with it sent shivers along my spine. The earth''s scent was rich and far too sharp for my taste, I would''ve complained but now wasn''t the time. Dim but glowing sparks alongside a mix of smoking ashes descended. Its short-lived warmth brings warmth among the cold and cruel situation I find myself in. They''d given my skin short pricks of static but it was that that''d made it all the more exhilarating. My legs ached and as they''d felt as if someone had chucked a torch painfully slowly across the very fibers of my legs as I took one more step forward, my muscles felt torn and it screamed to me to end the pain, everything would end this way. There would be no more suffering, no more pain. I would be able to rest in peace now. Peace as na?ve the word meant was still considered a worthy temporary luxury after all. But what about him? He had enchanting golden eyes, hypnotic even. His courage bottomless, and he was wise. His kindness held no evil intentions, but was one of pure concern. His bright crimson feathers clashed beautifully and magically with his bright golden ones, they held the perfect combination and were my favorite, they glowed even. In comparison to his wisdom however, his compassion measured far greater. I was disgusted at his acts to be honest as I did not feel the need towards it. Nonetheless, it could just be my nature and selfish thoughts after all. In contrast to his ''personality''; our past, was anything but sweet, his kin were hunted for centuries. His brethren were given no mercy. Everyone was wiped out. He was the last of his kin. Yet, why does he continue these actions of his? He could die. ¡®Stop!¡¯ ¡®No!¡¯ I scream from the bottom of my heart. My heart was bleeding. A clash of sharp and dull jabs attacked it relentlessly. The thought of the loss of a loved one was unbearable. I was tired. There was no need for you to sacrifice yourself any more than this. Let the sun die, your life, do not forsaken it. You alone are worth more than these selfish, prideful, and ugly people. You alone should live. Please, I beg of you. Humans were ugly I often thought. Their acts of self-righteousness and virtue; even towards the beings they worship and pray to; in the end, weren¡¯t it towards their pride and well-being as well? Situation be, the sun was breathing its last. Life would be no more, crops will die and so will life stock. People were no exception. Phoenixes however, could live. They''re existence itself were ones from another world and a breath-taking miracle. The Final Sunset held no effect on them. What he was about to do was outrageous. Sacrificing himself to replace the sun, humanity and all its creatures would live on. There were only a few more steps ahead of me, I''d fallen to my knees and started crawling towards him. A pitiful sight it was. My right hand reached out to him and he looked back. His outstretched wings were beautiful. His golden eyes bore through me. Even through his slightly cracked beak I could tell that he was smiling. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. His beak pried open and a rich, soothing tone escaped it. He spoke with infinite gentleness: ¡°It¡¯ll be alright. I promise." He said. Like he always did. Memories flash. Red. Red everywhere. It was on the floor, the tables, and chairs. Everything. I could hear screams of agony. The feeling of having your soul teared apart from your mortal body, the burden on my mind was heavy. A burning sensation slid down my throat. It was my blood I¡¯d sooner realised. I was always so helpless and I hated it. So, I did the unthinkable, the daughter-in law of clich¨¦s. It was normally the female who protects the male if I weren¡¯t mistaken. Just a missing happy ending as the result of a continuation; not that I mind. My legs sprung to life and I was sprinting towards him. I took hold of him, my hand plastered against his temples. I was unconsciously hanging onto my final time with him for dear life. I kissed his soft forehead, between his beautiful eyes and rummaged his back to feel the silkiness of his feathers one last time. And with all my might, I pushed him aside. The look on his face was priceless. And chuckled I did. The phoenix blood in me pulsed strongly, the sun couldn''t and won¡¯t refuse my sacrifice. I was its last hope, the star of life and hopelessness (take note my hatred) couldn¡¯t afford to reject me. Icy raindrops continued to land on my now glowing skin. I could hear sizzling and the evaporating steam of science. My lips parted and I gave my last words to him, "Everything¡¯s alright now,¡± The rain hid my tears; blending in with it to be more accurate. And my breath hitched. I continue my final words. "Thank you, Rim." I smiled my very last to my beloved and everything went white. Last I heard was a musical, high pitched and sorrowful cry. ¡®I¡¯m so sorry, but live.¡¯ these were my final thoughts after my words. How funny these thought were, when the death of a loved one was truly so painful; it¡¯d be ironic to tell him to be happy. Soft but glowing ashes a fallen and i''d long closed myself; my eyes to such a beautiful and sorrowfully enchanting scene. So slowly they drifted, so slowly time went. Brief touches of warmth dissipated alongside I. 3 Children 3 children were sitting on a log by a bank, one of them looked up to the pale blue sky and said:"Will you commit murder with me?" His smile was innocent, but his eyes said otherwise. They were filled with much sorrow and pain. He stood up on the log, balanced himself, looked up the sky once again for a brief moment and looked down. He stretched out his hands and asked yet again:"commit murder with me?" He suggested and cutely tilted his head a bit. The other 2 children, were aged as young as him. But they''d seen much more than a child they''re age should have ever witnessed. They''ve witnessed sorrow, anger, joy, corruption, unfairness and pain as well. The two young boys that were sitting down on the brown rotting log got up. They''d kneeled on the fresh, moist earth and took his hand, a boy for each. Kissed the top of it and replied:"Anything, for you." They didn''t bother of the future, all that mattered was the present. The dark haired boy that stretched out his hands was after all, their saviour. In this pitch-black, never ending abyss. He was their light, their joy. Everything and anything belonged to him and him only. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. 2 weeks later, 3 boys were reported to be dead. Each held each other hand in hand. The dark haired one was embraced by two other boys about his age. They were brothers, closer to each other than any siblings, they were reported. A puddle of red liquid surrounded them but it wasn''t blood, the liquid formed around them and reflected their pure selves. The scene was beautiful, like water nymphs, they looked like nature, fast asleep. Very unfortunate incidents had happened to them throughout their lives. A man laid close by them, dead as well. Was it their father? He had a fat and unruly appearance, his head held a deep cut and he a broken wine bottle was found in hand. Poison was found in each their bloodstreams. They''d committed a murder to both themselves and the man. A letter had been found close by and part of it read, ''...forever and ever. The end.'' The beginning of the letter could not be covered due to the red liquid that had stained it. Perhaps it was a story, one with an ending they''d always hoped for but it reached out far; unattainable. Entry 75 The sky screamed in atonement as the kneeling figure below it closed its eyes. The cold, blowing winds were harsh and rain droplets descended violently. With none than the figure in sight, the surroundings took place in an open field. It was not anybody¡¯s fault; not its, not his nor hers. At the very least, it was what it believed. Cold breezes landed and trickled his skin. Where the milky and silky area was visible, it landed. Its hands, legs and face were all soaked. As what had occurred, even the heavens grieved. It was without a doubt, in its place, one that had already no tears to shed. It had not a gender. Its appearance was beautiful but repulsive, full of contradictions. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Intelligent but foolish, So kind yet cruel, It was abominable, a mistaken existence. At the very least, let me end it all. For that is my compassion, kindness, selfishness and cruelty. So with an inanimate object, the deed was done. Entry 75 - My deed Only but a Fragment ¡®Does that mean that you¡¯re but a part- a fragment of my imagination? That you, the girl that I¡¯ve spoken to for the past few days and one I consider a friend is not real? Would that count as you lying to me?¡¯ a rapid flow of questions were asked from the mouth of a single boy. The vibrations of his voice clearly evident of the insecurity he had; alongside a mild tone of an unsure aspect. The being opposing him gave nothing but an expression of displeasure. ¡®Deny my statement!¡¯ he added, a raspy voice full of desperation. ¡®Please¡­ Please¡­¡¯ now a cracked emphasise of plead covered his already deep voice. The red headed girl¡¯s expression then changed to one of grimaced and with her pearly white and slender fingers she took hold of her askers head. By then, his eyes face downward as well as his head; unwilling to face his very own questions and request. Inwardly, the boy gave himself an awkward smile. What came was more so an order rather than request. He was sure the girl knew so too. Scarlet red lips parted and what came after a voice of serene beauty. Full of forgiveness, gentleness and a sense of peace. Sirenic to a plausibly unhealthy level (which was all but her nature), melodious. Befitting of a mermaid for that was what she were. ¡®How cruel,¡¯ she said. ¡®Tell me then; answer me, an existence in being that would willingly deny its own life as but a mere lie. A fragment of another¡¯s imagination, a part of one¡¯s dream. Do I look- feel fake to you, am I unreal in your eyes? Answer me!¡¯ Her voice was raised and her once composed tone disappeared replace with hysteria. Surprisingly, no tears were visible. Nonetheless, it mattered not for her tone said and explained everything. The boy had a gaping look plastered on top his face. Astonished, he immediately apologized. The girl had never screamed at him before. On the normal aspect, she was always smiling. Always with an expression of slight mischief and mystery. He took a gentle hold of the hand on his face and gently squeezed it. Eyes forward to take a clear look of the girl in front of him. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Her eyes were a dim scarlet red that leaned closer to a maroon color. Bright auburn hair was gifted to the mermaid and highlights of crimson dyed through. Her hair was originally wavy the boy knew. But as the goddess in front of him was in water, her hair straightened; a beauty never seen before displayed. A strange seductiveness followed her water covered skin as they gave a kind of shiny sheen to it. Transparent water droplets traveled from her slender neck down to her breasts and to the rest of her pale body that was moonstruck beautiful. Her upper-body exposed to the air and said water drops slowly dried. Furthermore, the girl was gifted with curves that were all in right proportions and one could see she had seductively tight abs that were often used for swimming that connected down to her scaled fish-like body decorated with the enchanting ornaments of the sea. Her scales gleamed in an array of deep and darker colors but were mainly alike her eyes, a brighter maroon color. Her scarlet frown overturned and now formed an enchantingly beautiful smile as her free hand covered top the boy¡¯s hands and too gripped them. The fingers that were nudged against the boy¡¯s cheek pressed further and the boy knew. So did the enchantress. ¡®It is sadly time¡¯ the voice that could bring downfalls to kingdoms and nations announced. ¡®Indeed¡¯ came the youth¡¯s instinctive and understanding reply. The sun had risen, the break of dawn that arrived proudly announced its presence as the dim and warm rays hit the bodies of the two. Sadly, the following silence was broken as the words that came next- ¡®Forget¡¯ she said- commanded. And so I powerlessly did, once again, and forever more. With Heartfelt Thoughts I imagine a world of monotone. Black and white in colour. Tall city buildings surround me as I sit on a grey bench in the middle. The surface of it was smooth and hard. I sat in deafening silence, not a single sound to welcome my presence in this dull world. My eyes were shut. Nonetheless, I was clearly aware of my surroundings. In mere seconds, I took place in a nostalgic view through closed eyes. Unable to recall any memories, I paid no concern. It was peaceful. I couldn¡¯t speak, my mouth remained shut. I may¡¯ve spoken if I¡¯d wanted to. But then, why would I? There were no need for any sound nor noise here. This place was one of no life but plants existed here at the very least. For a second, minute, hour, day? It didn¡¯t matter. A single thought passed through my mind for that brief moment and what it was were water. Rain. Droplets of cold rain would fall upon this dull land. Maybe it¡¯ll flourish even? I stay seated, but on a grey coloured hill. The benched remained thankfully. The rain did not fall. Overgrown weeds sway side by side. My eyes open slowly and another colour was added to the imaginary world of mine. 3 shades of green, a tree appears before me. Its leaves swayed alongside the gently blowing breeze and its bark was grey, alongside a stroke of black. The colours blended nicely. A white crow perched on one of its branches and it stared intently at me. I reached out my right hand, and a piece of blank paper, as well as a black inked pen appeared afloat in front of me. I took hold of the floating stationaries and placed them on my lap. Once again, the scenery changes. This time, a whiteboard placed against a wall. There were grey tables and grey chairs. All neatly arranged in an orderly manner, white walls and a very dim sky filled the remains of my view. I took place standing. My fingers slid on top the spotless desk. The paper and pen had been placed neatly before me. I simply looked down upon it. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. A step, then two. I intend to sit on the neatly arranged chair placed in order with the table, the chairs were tucked in. The sound of one of the said chairs were untucked by me. The sound of the actions breaks the silence. For the first time after what seemed like years, a sound was made and heard as well. After I sat, I took the pen to my grasp and observed the blank piece of paper. The pen in hand was gripped tightly. I wrote with a full yet empty mind. Dear anonymous, What is change? A repeated paradox. Understanding? An act that was accidently missed out in the human programming system. An act we misunderstand, a word we blatantly say. What is it truly? Knowing, understanding. How much do we truly know and understand? I dropped the pen and its gravitational pull ends with a ¡®thud¡¯. And with heartfelt thoughts of a suffocating theory, I reread the letter to my unknowing self. What he felt He had deep green eyes that could captivate even the straightest guys to bend towards him. As the sound of soft footsteps continue to grow louder, I stood leaning against the wall. The door finally creaks open and he trespasses enters into my secret ¡®room¡¯. The room was a place where I could relax and take my mind off several complications I faced in my life (such as life itself, for example). It was a small, square room but it wasn¡¯t confining. Its walls were originally painted white but its purity had faded throughout time. His pale, milky skin glowed underneath the dim light but he did not look sickly. Emerald green eyes could be felt as they gave a soft glow but dissipated just as quickly during the brief moment of time to whereas he entered. It was just the lack of sunlight that made him so deathly pale. No, in actuality never once in his life has he ever seen the sun. I stared blankly at him and gave a lazy wink. He gave me a look of disapproval and his soft dark-blonde hair dropped to his eyes. ¡°Stop slacking off will you.¡± He said firmly. I smiled cheekily at him without breaking eye contact. I was determined to display to him my unwillingness to obey. He was respected and feared here, I was an exception though. I saw him more of a best friend and nagging mum rather than a ¡®genius-scientist that changed the course of history at the age of 14 and stuff.¡¯ I could tell he appreciated it that way. Through the way he looks at me, they held no defensiveness or guard against me whatsoever. He sighed and stood beside me. The room I resided in was dark. With only a single light bulb that produced off a dim white light. The room ceased to be dusty and was filled with many painted canvases instead. Painting was a hobby of mine and my collection had piled from time. I tilted my head towards him and so did he. ¡°James again?¡± I ask him. He nodded approvingly and questioned: ¡°How¡¯d you know?¡± ¡°Woman¡¯s intuition¡± I half-heartedly say. With a tinge of sarcasm and mischief he¡¯d softly joked in an exaggerated tone. ¡®You saying that guys don¡¯t then?¡¯ a motherly smile replaced his former stoic expression. In a playful tone, as to not leave him hanging I replied ¡®I don¡¯t see how they came into the picture.¡¯ During such a moment I¡¯d gave a gentle touch, feeling the smooth and slightly old wall. Cold and low chills were felt in turn and they proved soothing as the room consisted of only a single fan that lay plugged against the socket, standing the fan turned its head; from left, to right. Repeating the never-ending process. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡®But, I have to say. You, joking? Terribly bad, mom.¡¯ Purposely emphasizing the last word, the dark eyed lad had given an even broader smile. Paintings of bright and equally bland colours lay neatly hung in a horizontal manner. Framed sketches did too; and truthfully, unlike what most would think first impression wise in my secret hide out, drawings had always been my expertise more so that painting actually. The smell of art materials hung in the air: the smells of pencils and ink. The scent of paint and used, paint contaminated water. It gave off a sense of peace. Unfortunate that there were no window in which a piercing sun could shine upon, to complete the peaceful air that wafted through the room. With snow white, slim and beautiful fingers he traced one of the paintings that hung on the wall. Artworks on the walls were a special kind. They were the ones I was more proud of compared to the others but I loved all of my works equally anyways. His deep, sharp green eyes pierced my painting. It was a painting of 3 colours. Black, white and red. A girl with crimson lips and flowing black hair resided on it, streaks of red ran down her hair. Black coloured thorns surrounded her. Blood red petals drifted close her, on the ground. They looked more of blood drops in shapes of petals instead. Red spider lilies hung in the air. 6 of them, they drifted freely, as if the wind were carrying them. The sides of his lips lifted. James was a co-worker of mine but had always pried into the affairs of others¡¯ department. His actions irritated everyone and he was thus avoided majority of the time. In jealousy, he scorned the beautiful lad. In truth, it was somehow petty to dislike and speak badly of the jealous guy but it was unavoidable as in this environment and like all others. The time now is full of anxiousness and the atmosphere that surrounds this world would grow painfully tense now and then. To dislike someone was but another step of stress relief in this confined area. I knew this, he did too. Despite his cold interior, he¡¯d always been a fragile and sensitive child. ¡°You always know.¡± He smiled sadly. Of course I do. I always did. And had I mentioned? My little brother could only do otherwise. He was terribly bad at knowing, much less understand in an emotional sense. He¡¯d also look completely different in contrast to me; with the exception of our eyes, it was the one thing we¡¯d shared. Blackbird Silvery flakes drifted down, glittering in the bright light of the harvest moon. The blackbird swooped down. Its dark and glossy feathers shun beneath the non-luminous moon that had coveted the sun rays as its own with a grand dignity. The blackbird had made not a single sound and its dark, bright and beady eyes shun an intelligence incapable of any animal. In between its beak lay but a single amulet. Metal and in a rectangular shape, its contents read words that could send any being dizzy with the mere sight of it. Strokes and curves, lines and dots in a lighter tone of silver; all danced beautifully a top the gleaming silver plate. Attached to it was but a thin and transparent line. The piece of string would at most gleam dimly in certain angles at night but was nonetheless almost invisible to the naked eyes. It lay between the blackbirds beak whereupon the bird had swooped down to strike at it. Catching the string, the bird¡¯s eyes shun in satisfaction and it¡¯d perched unto a branch from a single tree that was planted close by and in sight. Below, the sounds of the frustrated could be heard as the being trashed about in anger aggressively. Cold touches of snow lands on the abyss feathers of the blackbird and it¡¯d melted instantly, leaving not a trace of what was formerly there. The scene was beautiful. A bird perched on a tree branch and below a human that shouts angrily at it. In the eyes of any mortal, one would not help but acknowledge the fact that it was the type of scene seen just out of a painting. The snow around the duo pile. Time stood still and yet the silvery flakes drifted at their own time and pace. The white surface forms an uneven line and the footprints of what has passed contaminates the pure white ground. Its scent was that of ice, as it was all there was. The amulet dangled as the bird had jerked its head forward, taunting the already upset and frustrated man. Clearly, the bird understood; it was well aware of the importance the amulet bound by mortal hands had. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Mischief and isolation played in the bird¡¯s eyes as if it had a proper mouth that consisted of lips and tongue, one could tell that the dark eyes bird was clearly smiling, wryly. Slowly, but gradually footsteps could be heard running towards the man and beast. The sounds underneath their feet, with each contact from the earth that they¡¯d made, thundered. The group that clearly sounded of more than a dozen stampeded and galloped to the tree. The hooves of their horses echoed with every step they took. All for but a single item. Accompanied with steps came the voices. The sound of horses nicked and exhaled, the journey was long but the troop had made it in time; before the bird had flown away as far as its wings could carry. The avian was clearly taunting the bunch of armoured men. Come, it said, chirped, closer to a whisper. Underneath the moon and barely visible; the moonlight had granted an almost unnoticeable violet sheen to the blackbird¡¯s wings. Opened; the bird flew, and the chilly air behind it gave a silent shiver. Snowflakes continue to fall in its pace. Incomparable to the hasty men that led behind the blackbird. Hate and Dislike, A Hypocritical Ideal If I could read one¡¯s eyes or mind, and that when they were clearly and in broad daylight displaying their feelings of discomfort or worries, they¡¯d probably say: ¡®you don¡¯t understand what I¡¯m feeling.¡¯ Either tones of hysteria would travel across to the ends of wherever you were or tones of disdain towards you will come instead. Reactions come in various aspects and the unpleasant one are more noticed. May I assume, that you understand as well? Resuming the former story-telling, it was as if that one with a sense that the feeling of dislike, hate or sadness were none existent beside me. I¡¯d guess with mild certainty that in their eyes I was a relaxed, worriless (?) kind of human being. (The world is full of irregularities and theories after all) As all I would¡¯ve asked was but a single sentence: Are you alright? The path that would¡¯ve led to an awkward situation as such is that when they reply much will spill but never blood. Although rare, something more unexpected, sinful. A natural response would be to support the claimed victim of worry or problems. Advise them, comfort them, is it not what they want? Crave, in a more desperate sense. That and when you give them an unwanted answer, words that do not wish to hear. Yours would be brushed off, the people that do not listen, they deny as if it were the end of the world and the acceptance of such a fact drove them to madness. A consolation prize, your intentions were delivered but with a price. Such as the non-existent appreciation of your efforts; what you once was, a person of reliability, an object of anger and mocking to vent upon. I and many others (hopefully) had a policy of acceptance. No matter how ugly, egoistical, selfish that person were to be. He or she was still him or her. Part of them, like their heart, for example. Another as it was a part of their origins in a fact that a parent¡¯s sins could not be blamed unto the child birthed from them. The choices of blame towards another taken in consideration of the last statement however, were unruly and unfair in a sense. I would not dislike or hate him/her. Yet, I wouldn¡¯t like or love him/ her either. That person would be but an existence, on this world, beneath its skies. I stand or neutral ground. It was (is) a foolish ideal. It was pretty much confirmed that the careless use of language and words drifts like the amount of garbage stacked on the surface of the sea. The one in who-knows-where, forming an island full of filth. A hypocrite I was, as well as many others. Some aware some not. We use words in a sense that we take it for granted, from what? Would be asked. I don¡¯t know, in all honesty. It just is and I realised. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Taking in negative aspects in consideration even the description of couches would prove better worth, hate was a heavy word. And if possible, I¡¯d never use it. Hate was one with a lot of responsibilities, and sadness. To hate someone and to dislike are 2 very different things. Hate. The word is sorrowful, heavy and nothing but a burden. And to hate someone by outward appearance was disgusting. And if the person was truly hateful on the inside, why can¡¯t dislike be just enough. No one can change it anyway, so why hate? It¡¯d bring no miracles nonetheless. Dislike in comparison is a shallow wound. One that¡¯ll still (could) heal. It may leave a tiny scar but it won¡¯t affect one¡¯s daily life whatsoever. A sudden trip. But of course, it¡¯ll hurt a bit. And like every cut or bruise, it¡¯ll heal. Unless ones white-blood cell try too hard to heal it or maybe even the exact opposite. Either leads to undeniably unpleasant results. Hate is a slit to the throat. And it bleeds. Much is lost. I¡¯d imagine a very lonely world, one with lesser beauty. Pitch black, dark. That was hate, it blinds others. One to the point that they¡¯ll see no light. But then, even the darkness has its own beauty. And just like the dark, chilling night, we find it beautiful. Besides, not everyone takes comfort in the light. But then in those skies there would be stars. Light. A barely breathing hope. It¡¯ll be easy to say: ¡®I¡¯m sorry¡¯ but then, how sorry are we really? And how much of the other¡¯s darkness can we truly light? How much can we heal, patch up? Words hold so much power; and when someone throws a thoughtless light around with not so much a single consideration of its actual meaning, I and maybe, preferably others as well would get a tendency to feel selfishly upset. Would¡¯ve it felt a little less egoistic if told in a story¡¯s point of view and not through ¡®I¡¯? Or would¡¯ve ¡®I¡¯ just have been but another aspect of another story as well? Sadness is blue, With a touch of relief. And through it, a rise. Or fall. Of Unknown Lands The stork coloured white, its feathers were smooth and glossy as it stood a larger than average height; standing out among his peers. The tips of its wings were black and they were currently spread out, open feeling the cool breezes of winds against the feathered overall of the bird. Its beak coloured a bright and outstanding sheen of orange and so did its legs. They too were in the air, but with a controlled dangling motion they jerked every now and then. Wispy clouds motion pass the mobile stork and its head was locked on. To where? It too did not know. It just flew; past snowy and green mountains and clear, murky lakes, occasionally resting. The seas crash against the lines of beaches and the motion pulled, and pushed. It was travelling to a location that was bound to be paradise, it concluded. The beauty of the scenery that it had flew by and perhaps too rest were beautiful. Untouched nature and a very rare diamond in the rough. Unpolished and bond to be found by the humanoid creatures that were common in its land the stork pondered. Nature¡¯s instincts took over so the thought vanished without a trace. Focus, we are yet to arrive. The stork merely submitted to the unknown¡¯s ¡®voice¡¯. Silently, but with presence the bird merely flapped its wings as far as it could carry. Until rest, meal and the arrival of an unknown land. Throughout the journey, the stork had experienced many troubles. Smooth journeys were a rare one as predators lurked every now and then. A chase of life and death would follow yet the self-less being paid no mind. Instincts, which was all it had and should just have. A sense of self laid present-less in the beautiful existence of the bird. The unnoticeable crown that had laid adorned on its snowy white head grew brighter each day. Its glow of a brief rainbow flashed and its round brown eyes brightened. No yet, the leech of a conscious said, not yet. Below natures plains smoothed and a field on grass grew visible. Untamed grasses, still-growing trees reached out to the skies as it tilted towards the position to the ever-glowing sun. Living beings labelled by the names ¡®lions¡¯ and ¡®antelope¡¯ were plentiful. Weights of such breath-taking beauty intensified and gravity suddenly increased. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. It was intense when the stork had a sudden realization of the increase of its heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump; the former soothing and rhythmic beat disappeared and only the feeling of accomplishment remained. Through rains and storms. A light-less sky and a warm yet cool day. For days, weeks it traveled. Despite the raging need to land it was still not time. Sooner, closer, now a lake took appearance. The nature was untouched, fished swam in schools, plentiful and predators such as ¡®crocodiles¡¯ lurked. The scent of home, the feeling of it embraced the child of Mother Nature. What came next was the view of its own kind. A flock of them, it. Tiny bickers and calls echoed throughout the entire area surrounding them. The loudest bunch and, most comfortable one to the ever-lonely stork. Only the unknown voice had accompanied it and the bird long tired of its presence. The crown atop its head now shined its brightest, informing its peers of its joy. They too responded with equal enthusiasm and the gleeful group now looked like a bunch on half-lit stars. Lighting up the area of setting sun. The area was magnificently large, be it green lands or clear water. The scent of earth soaks the space and sounds of the stork¡¯s brothers and sisters squabble with life. An unknown entity¡¯s activity had died down and its voice no longer heard in the depths of the birds mind. In a nonchalant matter, the stork settled down its feathers and its journey ended. A faint glow penetrated the source of peace and an animistic figure took place. A magnificent scene incomparable to the bird¡¯s sights that¡¯d the snowy feathers being had ever laid eyes on was taking place. Space was being ripped apart and the area around it warped in a circular motion. Paradise was close; move, take flight. The landing is not now, not yet. The Unknown took voice yet again. Wings spread out, like a ritualistic dance of glowing winged-fairies but this time of company, they took off. Following. The Tremors of an Uninvited guest. The throne room proved extravagant for a country that was newly made. Outside the cries of crickets sounded, winds blew bringing along fallen leaves in companionship. Stronger, greener leaves stayed however, they stuck unto their mother-tree like glue; only to sway according to the direction of the blowing and chilly winds. the chirps, and perhaps the coos of birds pierced the sky. Multi-colored feathers fell, drifting slowly. Only to land on the side of a cobble path. Whereupon the clicks and clops of a horse''s hooves touch. The great and gentle beasts nicked with excitement as they passed a large wooden gate. They''ve arrived, to home they looked forward to. There, in a certain said throne room sat a King. He was a handsome man, aged in his early 40s, he held himself with dignity but not one with arrogance. The King was not a ruthless man unlike many others. No, he was a gentle one instead, but not to the point it brought downfalls to his small, but peaceful country. Deep onyx eyes scan its surroundings, strands of hazel coloured hair fell out of place in occasions. Across him was a sturdy, iron door. It measured the height of 3 adult men and the floor graced with luxurious red carpet. The entirety of the floor was of course not covered but only a medium sized patch was, leading to the throne whereas the king sat. Up to the rather wide ''stage'' led by small steps. The side of His Majesty''s, well, ''chair''? ''throne''? resided another, specifically 2 other but smaller version of ''thrones''. The King merely gazed around, it was his rare free time and he planned on thoroughly enjoying it. Truly, the design was exquisite. Large, transparent and sturdy looking glass windows decorated the sides of this particular room. The curtains that decorate it a bright red color with golden embroidery and linings. The design included that of curves and tiny imitations of lined flowers. Milky white covered the entire floor, the marble gave occasional swirls and it gleamed in blunt manner. Tile after tile, the mere scene of it would tempt any child to play a game that would consist of avoiding a certain tile and jumping on to another. At the sides of the room, excluding the windows of course, were chairs. Carefully placed the chairs were obviously expensive, luxury red cushions and gold coated hand rests decorated the chair that could seemingly feed a family for months lay arranged in a vertical manner, down the isle. It was then, THAT had taken place. The earth trembled in an overwhelming manner and windows shattered with a final piercing cry; the palaces guards were in chaos as they could hardly keep balance in the sudden situation. The stronger of the lot however, scrambled with slight difficulty to the throne room. ''The King takes first priority! We have to hurry'' such were their loyal minds. The sound of armor rattled alongside was the clanging of their swords or any another weaponry they had on their sides. No sooner in 15 minutes had they arrived the room. What''d they had observed was an unharmed King and an uninvited guest. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The King, with a solemn expression had asked. His mask was a political one, as he presented himself undisturbed with the phenomenon that was received in a mere 10 minutes back. Wise eyes pondered on an obvious request that has yet to be given by a powerful being. What will he request? he thought. Dragging alongside was a crystal clear recollection of what had happened. A powerful and inhumane aura swiped passed the lot of confused people. The pressure was overbearing, powerful; it was even to the point that a slight ripple and twist in space could be seen from it. The unknown figure that was clad in black, the one that stood in front of the King only smiled. Profound eyes pierced through each and every living and breathing being in the room. It was strange, hadn''t anyone felt the tremor? Reinforcements fail to arrive. Mischief in his star like pupils shun, his irises coated with the deepest of colors. ''It was weird, what is happening?'' A simple point view of the narration of this phenomenon. His irises weren''t even black, but they were just, deep. Around said iris were a variety of hues of blues, silvers, gold and violets. They glimmered underneath the sun through shattered glass. The colors were unnatural but it somehow fit the young looking and black-clad figure; blending nicely with a shining brilliance. Given time, the King would''ve thought they even glowed somewhat. Words escape his perfect thin and peach lips, pearly white teeth showing, A deep and profound voice rang in everyone''s ears, ''I''ll be intruding for about 7 years, Your Majesty. Now, if you''d please, don''t make it complicated. Lend me your kitchen and a few of your royal chefs. My pap- father requests I learn to make an omelette. Hurry on, I have a time limit to keep to.'' I''m not actually sure, but i might continue this. (2 parts max) Comment your say. Autumn Brown Autumn brown I was thrown in what was an unknown, unfamiliar place. Despite that statement however, it was awfully nostalgic. And as my feet touched solid ground, what was known as an overpowering ¡®instinct¡¯ drove me. The destination was far ahead, in due time this place would crumble; and it was why I, as well as many others had to move. First-world dream problems was that I could see nothing. The entire surrounding was dark, the lightless kind. Lost, I ceased any movement other than breathing and the slight twitch of facial expression. Observing my dark surroundings, I was strangely in calm despite the somewhat unexpected/ expected situation I found myself in. It was slowly and gradually that vague silver linings took shape. They slowly formed into forms of buildings that were stiffly rectangular and in a standing vertical position. The buildings had little to no design crafted on. It was plain and unattractive; only producing the slightest and bare minimum glow in order to light our surroundings to lead us there. The buildings itself weren¡¯t luminous but the lines that shaped it were. A semi-transparent building, reminding one of a glass city. The city, of course were everything but bundled together. Instead, they were aligned in an irregular horizontal manner. The purpose of it I suspect was that the path intended to lead us, to wherever we had to go and so we went accordingly. The journey was yet to start however, as platforms of solid marble appeared in an orderly fashion but placed, like the buildings irregularly. One by one they emerged from the empty solid ground whereupon I stood. The size of either of the platforms were random I think. Empty spaces were not left with holes of abyss but were filled with still waters in replacement. It was deep and although the liquid was clear, what led was the lack of light. Unable to estimate the depth of water, I simply glance towards my surrounding that were filled with humanoid figures in vague approximation to my age. The water flowed from an unknown source. No pipes to be seen or rain that filled the gaps. A variety of human beings took place, before their faces were seen in vague description; only their presences lingered. I could somehow tell that they were there, probably having the same thoughts of I. the difference despite all odds was that their goals were clearer. They knew and understood what awaited them and the result of such. Unlike I, which travelled accordingly like some sort of migratory bird, their eyes were clear. They formed packs err- groups. In twos, threes, fours. As for Me? I had one too. It was only in coincidence but I had felt his presence that was closer all this while, he was there all this time in serene silence. To describe this nameless companion of mine was an easy task. He had autumn brown hair with streaks of slight butterscotch. A distinct face I might add, Dark brown eyes and a well-proportioned face alongside a seemingly forever plastered smile that I took comfort in. Not in disgust nor suspicion. The man was of quiet nature, a listener in shorter terms. Approachable; the atmosphere around him oozed with ease and nostalgia, as if you¡¯d known him for decades; have a heartbreak, a problem? Hell yes! But worry not. Walk up to him and he¡¯ll listen; either in wanted silence or in given short lived advice. A decent and pleasant guy; so we traveled. Our journey heads north, the intentions of the path laid out a given. From the start and throughout the journey I was a talkative one. Words that come one after another in a rapid manner. As if the mere sound of my voice was there in the form of words to sooth myself from this ever unknown instinct to move forward. It went against my original nature however as I¡¯d preferred the calmness of a short-lived story and a type of sound that would lay low; not a machine gun of a mouth. Ripples formed on the still and dark waters of the lands we were in. small droplets that could almost be seen as adorable splashed in a mild manner; staining the black marbled tiles with their cool bodies. Strangely, whereupon adolescents enjoyed games in these shallows waters, I feared it instead. The clear but dark depth seemed bottomless and will hold no bias towards any entity no matter how prodigious, powerful one could be. All were equal if caught in traps of air-filled bubbles (the ones that splashed). Perhaps fish were an exception? Nonetheless, the feeling of dread was one I¡¯d rather avoid. ¡®It¡¯ll swallow me and I¡¯ll drown¡¯. The other living beings played around in a mischievous manner in the given shallow liquids of this realm. The waters surround the tiles as well as the glowing buildings, filling in any empty gaps. The scene was strange one, people were traveling either in strained tension or chatting calmly in a slacked manner. I was of the latter but my pleasant partner the one before that. He was still smiling, closer to a grin. His eyes enjoyed the talkative me as it broke the already quiet place (and pace). But like I, as well as many others the journey tired out our bodies. A slight exhaustion that autumn brown failed to cover could not escape my eyes. Sweat dribbled down, and I¡¯d doubt that was even possible in this temperature-less place if it weren¡¯t for the fact I¡¯d seen those droplets myself. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Despite such troubles of exhaustion) no worries were stumbled upon. We needed no food nor water to survive. Moving only forward in accordance to the path given. That was all. It was half way through the journey however that the weight occurred. The ¡®weight¡¯ was an intensified gravity. The pressure forced upon was not heavy to the point where we would be at our knees but more so a slight tug downwards. The feeling was strange and foreign but felt a tad bit weird nonetheless (like when you¡¯d just got out of the bed sort of feeling alongside the weight of the world on your shoulders and you¡¯ll wish no involvement of the already occurring end of this world; the exaggeration of filtered and sugar coated words of society pulls at you, creating ripples in your once pure and still mind. Corrupted, trapped, with no chance of flee.) It was an exaggeration, but hey! Okay¡­ Moving on, the desperation of our goals were like individual weights (perhaps the one we felt). The journey will and shall continue. Resume the path given, resume for what we seek is still far ahead. After what seemed of hours maybe closer to that of days the destination took slight shape in forms of yet again, stiff standing buildings. But, right at that moment the luminous and never ending row of light sources grew. That shot up in height, the lights glowing brighter that ever leaving sense of inferiority and powerlessness remaining. The surprise of such warm welcome shook my core, the scene was somewhat beautiful in a serene sense. Blending to the white, circus-like lights that seemed to mock us upon our arrival. Ahead were more buildings, pitch black in colour; differing in various heights? The eerie black building were of similar material to that of the floors¡¯ tiles. Smooth in surface and shorter that the formerly shorter glowing, vertically arranged city. The sight placed in a somewhat crowded manner but not too tightly. Giving space to walk and breathe thankfully. The glowing stiff pillars stood proudly (still) guiding us. Ahead was our fate, destiny. Without taking a single glance to what we¡¯ve passed we searched suitable platforms (which was the said city that is ahead) to take ¡®camp¡¯ on. Soon, the majority had taken claim on at least a climbable platform. The city of black glass absorbed sources of given light; the silhouettes of owners glowed. Seemingly through the gifts of glass. I as well as autumn brown too found one suitable of rest. A single plat form weren¡¯t limited to only one but more people. 3 in vague estimation. (Indeed spacious) Taking seat, the grounded tiles slowly dissolved, literally into the rippling water whereupon they once were. Unclaimed building shattered, creating a surrounding of jagged shards. The fluids of nightmare crept closer, higher, covering and filling of what was left of the shards, leaving only the sharper and taller edges visible. There was no sky. Or maybe if there was one it¡¯ll probably be the emptiness that surrounded us candidates. Yes, I now knew. The 2nd test will commence soon. No figure was seen. I grit my teeth, clench my already white knuckles making them paler. Sitting on eternally dead building had its advantages, everyone else held same reactions at the realization. No one would judge me, or each other as we looked the same. Facial-expression wise. On top of the buildings, we were a choir of tired scowls. Let the Era of Glass be in full glory. Tiny Figures Tiny Figures I woke up to a rather laughable situation. The clock signed 8 in the morning and voices were ringing in my ears. As I glanced towards my right, a tiny figure no bigger than my head floated before me. It had a pair of feathered wings, and was dressed in a simple white robe. Body wise, its physic were mine. Appearance wise, also mine. I squinted my eyes a little. On my left, another tiny figure floated before me. It held the same face and body as me too. The said creature had bat like wings and wore a deep red-coloured robe. Size wise, it was identical to the tiny figure of the angel. But the little demon had added feature of goats¡¯ horn and a tail with an arrow tip as a bonus. I closed my eyes. The two imaginary hallucinations (I¡¯d presumed) were arguing. My awakening was yet to be noticed and I remained silent. Analysing the situation through the tough times of feigning sleep I came to a simple conclusion: I was paranoid. The clash of the 2 seemingly and disgustingly similar faces came close to no signs of stopping their (very) loud argument. Over what, I couldn¡¯t bother but their language made me. Foul words of the worst calibre were being thrown around like steel balls from a canon. BOOM! BOOM! Their resonance merged to that of a symphony that made my soul shiver. Such came from the mouth of the little devil. Did any ship sink yet? Ahh¡­ whatever my ear section of a ship did if not theirs. On the other hand was the little angle. Honestly, I had a better imagery of angels. Cute, delicate, graceful and just good. Their appearance would be of the same I suspected but the current one that floated a top my chest gave my mind ideas that said otherwise. Firstly, it held my face; okay... No. Secondly, although the little thing did not swear and its tone was unlike the more barbaric version of me it was awfully cruel. Sarcastic and sharp remarks pierced the opposing side like sharp daggers and knives. Walking and lightly skimming the others skin. I mean, man! Did the little angel hold no restraint in its words and the very obvious dagger-like meanings? Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°The *bleep* are you doing here you *bleep* of a *bleep* *bleep* *bleep*. Go the *bleep* away! Your kind disgust the *bleep* outta me. And what the *bleep* is with your fashion sense? It¡¯s ugly as *bleep*¡± said the little devil. Hey, little guy. Isn¡¯t your insults a little overused? I mean, you can do better than that. It¡¯s as if the foul use of language is the only thing that makes you sound badass. The thug life is tough one but you¡¯ll start at level 1 though. Oh well, seems like I¡¯ll call you Innocence for now. ¡°Indeed it dreads me to wear such pitiful clothing. But due to unfortunate circumstances my seniors have in fact requested I wear the likes in order to bring myself to your level. All for the sake of understanding thy enemy, you see. The clothes do indeed remind one of oneself don¡¯t it? With the exception of me without a doubt. You, of course.¡± Responded the angel with menace deep in its eyes. Ow? Hey, don¡¯t bully Innocence, look at the little thing. He¡¯s tearing up. And Innocence, don¡¯t bite your lips, you¡¯ll bleed. Tears were gathering at the corners of Innocence¡¯s eyes and the angel held a look of superiority. It was clearly in bad resonance with the devil and seemed more of what was once Innocence¡¯s role instead. The sassy and mean little thing took glee in the other¡¯s hurt and looks rather experienced in it too. The two figures floated, their argument said no more. I¡¯ll call you (angel) Sasstic. Sassy and sarcastic, since I did not know either of their names. It¡¯ll have to suffice for now. My chest was pierced, to be mean with that face of haughtiness (which was mine) to another that too held my face and that was also tearing felt weird and I heaved a sigh. Little did I know, they¡¯d turned around and faced me; in response to my sigh. ¡°Finally¡± ¨C Sasstic said in a royally tired tone. ¡°Umm¡­ you didn¡¯t *bleep* hear that did you?! I¡¯ll beat you up!¡± ¨C Innocence cried but looked bashful? Oh what in the¡­ Carnival Carnival The room was filled with pointless chatters. People spoke words that formed into proper sentences or of common neglected forms of grammar. When weaved together, the voices turned into what was a jumble of gibberish. If questions were asked, the probability of an obliged and one-word response would be high and given. The ceaseless noise that corrupted the room showcases an absolute impossibility of stopping. The ear-piercing movement tables go disinterested since they were but the product of careless knocks on a person¡¯s sides that naturally hurt, of course. An addition to the noise would be groans of pain. Legs of steel chairs are dragged across the room in a casual manner, their purpose to ease the legs of students that tire from remaining standing. Lively screeches and the shouts of games fill the corridor that was beyond the door. Their voices were loud and childish. Clearly announcing the presence of playful adolescent children. They play a friendly game of an endless tag. If not and if they lack the energy, a long lasting game would''ve taken place instead; a figure supposedly thought. He was a male resident of what was before the door and in the classroom. Filled with students his age or older, a casual mix of students through calculated times or accidental ones. He could hear the beat of drums and an electric strum of guitars outside; he enjoyed the beat and tune they produced as they resonated within his heart. Vibrating and humming. Those of his year differ in large comparison of the children as his class consisted of an older batch. They had already developed largely in terms: physically and mentally. More clearer in terms of maturity and beliefs. Unlike the younger ones who just act accordingly; intentional or not. The teen would¡¯ve liked to claim his class as a single entity in terms of unity. They were mostly bonded together as a family would; connected thorough a single individual thread to another, gradually coming around that they were somehow connected. One way or another. It was a fact that that the bond they shared was closer than any stranger and on par with food-sharing siblings although lesser than lovers. Despite the ¡®bond¡¯ and ¡®connection¡¯ they shared however, the class is said to have divided among st themselves in factions when their unity is unnecessary that is. His class or the classes here in general did not separate themselves through gender or race or religion. No, they¡¯d long gone over those petty facts. As a matter of fact, such was not even considered a problem in the first place. It was common here, where the teen lived. Perhaps beyond the more political line such differed holding different values but such held no influence here. Not under the eyes of these ¡®children¡¯. Separated by interests and perhaps of what they found peculiar in one another. It varied from: food, sports, tv shows or books. An unsaid rule of gathering birds that flock together through the same feather. The boy was no exception and went accordingly to that rule too. He was a type of variant however. Switching in between flocks as he got along well with either. And as similarly as he got along with one towards another an individual group, he was also distanced in a similiar manner. The students did not notice but they¡¯d unintentionally leave him out. It was a type of feeling whereupon they''d feel he belonged but at the same time differed. Giving the teen a sense of isolation. His relationships consisted of his being the approach else no one would bother for an invitation that he wouldn¡¯t or shouldn¡¯t receive. He could see the distance of 444 ft. and could have never bothered to close it. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. And the teen continued to drift endlessly in the wave of noise that took place at the very start of the carnival. A lively atmosphere, air-filled and coloured balloons that hung by a string¡¯s end. The smell of food wafted the premises and the school was in a mood of celebration. Student of all classes are released from their rooms to enjoy the day. They travelled in pairs and groups. Laughter and smiles, intentions filled with excitement. The teen had taken journey to the library where it was quiet and gave off a sense of peace and isolation. He sat there, sketchbook in hand; glances at the clock: 4 and a half hours remain. A sip of liquid and an array of tastes melt by the area of his tongue. Spending lesser than what was given. A majority on pointless objects. They¡¯d all went to charity and as a reaction to the fact, the teen could see no reason to hold back his rare shopping spree: or so he¡¯d like to think. The end resulted in the purchase of 2 objects instead. Disregarding the sweat and time used up in this setting. He enjoyed no more than half of it. Strolling aloofly and blending within the ever-moving crowd. They swayed and rocked his mind to sleep. He walked like the dead; eyes ahead and a blurred focus. The booths were nicely and somewhat carefully made; its sole purpose of appeal. The speakers pound music into his mind with a choir of voices. Glancing and gliding through a crowd, a careful slip into the library. Alone, a book in hand. He disliked the discomfort that lingered but failed to express it. Where he sat was a spot of sole isolation. The corner table of an open area where the lights shun dimly. The library itself was not small but enough so to make him feel confined in absolute serenity. It was dark, quiet and silent. The sounds could barely touch him here. His eyes glance upon the fingers that were gently placed on the cover of his book. A pencil case by his side. It was during such, this unnoticed figure of a teen failed to call; Reach to what was an offered hand. ¡®What¡¯re you doing here?¡¯ Rhythmic steps enter the quiet library, ¡®Reading,¡¯ A simple reply. Of Luck Of Luck All there was were a dance of flames, They were fairies of no clear aim. Prances, twirls and an occasional arch of a back, Their toes in tips and they stood on grounds that were dark. What was produced, a simple crackling, Sound that echoed throughout the entire time. No song, of violins or pianos or trumpets, To accompany an unheard symphony. We drowned in a sea of flame, And waves of smoke. It was suffocating and gratifying, To know. When will this experience ever dissipate? Would it come in numbers or the entirety of the whole? The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Brighter colours came in sight. Fear leaked and as sweat poured down, The oxygen consuming monster had a great might. Will it take us to own? They spoke of a luck that was never there, a time that never passed. Not from my memory, it didn¡¯t. Everything was just so half-hearted, From their experience however, it wasn¡¯t. Perhaps they just accepted such, With strong minds and ignorance. A consummation of what was once fleshed, The smell of burnt skin. Our bones charred, No more was our remaining kin. Yes, it''s a poem attempt. ''_'' Foreign Tongues Foreign Tongues He¡¯d continued to lie down on the bench without much care of his surroundings. His appearance was just so carefree; not a care in this world noticed. I couldn¡¯t judge however, as there was no key of locks to his thoughts. The wind ceased to blow and the sky turned brighter, warmer; it had been cloudy and windy before. Beads of sweat travelled down our foreheads to our flushed cheeks, our guardians had long wandered off, gone as they had matters of their own to settle. It were just him and I, the two of us, on our very own world of unsaid and mutual understanding. ¡®Gah!¡¯ He suddenly screamed but not out of fear, ¡®How do you survive in this damned heat? It¡¯s like a bloody oven,¡¯ He complained. ¡®Ya just have to, it can¡¯t be helped. I am astonished as to how you have yet to adjust.¡¯ I say with false surprise, slowly my face forms into a mocking smirk, but playful. The wind returned, unbound hair blows in its direction. ¡®Do winds have mood swings?¡¯ I added on and he gave no comment. It was expected as the lying figure had fallen asleep once again. The short moments of silence continued as well as the short-lived conversations. His desire to sleep due to the heat was problematical, at least on my side of the view. We would start conversations only to have it end sentences later. It was time yet again, he woke, and I spoke. Only that this time I¡¯d taken his hand, the very one that laid sloppily swinging by his side. Surprisingly, his hands were big, yet so fragile at the same time. I took it and played with it for a while; ranging from random timespans. Pinching his hand and by pulling on his bony fingers by skin. ¡®You have big hands¡­¡¯ I state and perhaps praised. ¡®They¡¯re like a girl¡¯s.¡¯ He returned. Voice dripping with silent¡­ frustration? He didn¡¯t like his bony, famine hands. Yet I found them surprisingly nice in a way. Slowly, he broke contact of his skin from mine. He withdrew his hand, basically; and stared blankly at his palms. ¡®Too thin...¡¯ He mumbled softly, but not to the point it was unheard. I heard the hidden comment and giving no words I reached for it. His hand. --- ¡®Will you stop grinning already?! Geez¡­¡¯ My voice wasn¡¯t loud but it clearly displayed the embarrassment I held that was truly-but-failing-horribly. Trying to hide it made the situation worse. Ever since I told him to sleep, he¡¯d been looking at me, grinning, from what? I did not know; but he laughed first, though. Movements in his fingers were wave-like patterns, I continue to pull on them, occasionally pressing the popping veins. There was nothing to do then. Open interaction was not so good an idea? Softly, noises in the background could be heard. He and I did not give much mind to it but the noise gradually grew closer and closer. Louder. It was his name being called, the voice familiar, it was his friend. His original purpose here was a class meeting. Skipping out on such, he was finally found and retrieved back by his peers. They were seated out at a caf¨¦, at Table 2. Loud conversations and continuous laughter could be heard from the across the street. We arrived to their table sooner in time and the journey wasn¡¯t a long one. In fact, the bench we met at was rather close to the one they held the gathering at but not so much that we were seen. Upon his arrival, they grew louder and so did he. Of gleeful ¡®Hi¡¯s and hello¡¯s¡¯. They spoke of topics unknown to me, catching up was seemingly impossible. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I sat next to him, not attracting much attention to myself. I continued sipping on an unfinished and seemingly neglected milkshake, falling once again into a deep, unfocused gaze. We were close, so, so close only moments ago. Yet the gap between he and I are so far apart now. At first the blame went unto his friends, they took him away; into a world I held not a key to. The curse went upon myself mere seconds later. I was being unreasonable and selfish, self-loathing or blame changed nothing or much for that matter. I couldn¡¯t change anything, it wasn¡¯t even a ¡®won¡¯t¡¯. Despite the loud bunch that I was seated with, not many scornful gazes fell to us. It wasn¡¯t anything to be surprised about really, since there was almost no one to start with. Silently, I thought to myself how I desired the peaceful and wordless moments between him and me again. Whereupon we were alone; and It hasn¡¯t even been half an hour yet. My gaze fell unto him, doubting he noticed. Crowds were never a thing of mine. What about him? --- A girl¡¯s voice, then a man¡¯s. My eyes were shut, boredom had overtook me and I¡¯d resorted to playing games with myself. Lonely, I know. Differentiating ones voice to another, separating them. Their language was the same as the one I¡¯d spoken my entire life but it was somehow foreign. Under no warning, he suddenly stood. He was smiling but it wasn¡¯t the comfortable kind. No one seemed to notice apparently and he politely excused himself whereupon the surrounding people didn¡¯t mind. Was he uncomfortable due to the heat or did one of his friends push a wrong button? Taking hold of my wrist, he wished a final goodbye and pulled me along. I ceased to struggle despite the tightening grip around my wrist. It wasn¡¯t enough to cause a bruise but surely a reddened mark. ¡®Hey, where¡¯re we going?¡¯ I asked in a worried, leisure-like voice. The point was to make him feel or look less anxious. ¡®Back, we¡¯re returning and going, back.¡¯ As predicted, anxious. ¡®To the bench?¡¯ I asked, puzzled. For the first time, ever since the eternity of a meeting he looked at me. Right in the eye. Expression turning soft and pained. Somehow. His back was broad I¡¯d noticed. To make things more awkward, he even stopped speed walking while he turned his head to see me. Then came a voice, full of comfort, control and relief; ¡®Yep.¡¯ he said. The grip on his hand to my wrist did not lessen but tightened instead. So, he didn¡¯t like the crowd I noticed soon after. Were they too loud? Or maybe they asked something inappropriate perhaps? A thousand questions ran through my mind and before I noticed, we had already arrived at the bench. He offered me a seat and I silently accepted. He then laid his head on my lap. Shocked at first, the awkward fidget during the first few seconds stopped. I stroked his head as I would a cat, or dog. Maybe a turtle even and he smiled. ¡®What happened?¡¯ the words finally slipped and there were no hesitation in them. Unlike the usual scenario whereupon a person would have to control as to not stutter I was the total opposite. It had its pros. And cons. I mean, there was a slight chance it might¡¯ve appeared nonchalant and uncaring. L His eyelids were closed, replaying the same scene over from the look in his expression. I gently caressed his head. The texture was soft and it was not expected. It always looked rough, sometimes weird at one point a time.