Category Archives: Stories

Sad sad sad

I haven’t done any updates on the baby birds, because there are no baby birds…

Two days after my last post, I checked the nest and it was empty. I did not feel like transferring the picture from my phone to my laptop because it just seemed too sad. The mama and papa pigeons even came around several times afterwards and I thought and hoped that the babies had just moved further in the nest and I just couldn’t see them. But no… I guess I’ll never know what happened.


The Little Visitor

I adore mammals. (They are) Soft, warm, and generally friendly (to avoid a fragment). My dog was a big part of my family’s life until he passed away coming up on three years ago…

However, whenever I get the chance to interact and play with a cat, a dog, anything, though I have discovered that I am allergic to them, I will play.

Trying not to act suspicious

Continue reading The Little Visitor

One Word: Epilogue

Epilogue: Eternity

She had waited for this moment for a very long time, but now that it had past, the brief joy she felt immediately vanished. “Tsk… why must these moments pass in the blink of an eye?” she murmured to herself. Pacing around her room in circles she tried to figure out what to do next. “It will be long before I have a moment of enjoyment again…What shall I do? What shall I do?” The shattered shards of glass lying on the floor still created the sparkling colours, but these colours were of a different kind. She was fed up.

She circled her room once again. The moon was reflecting its stolen light onto her sombre face. A star was shooting through the night sky, but she knew it wasn’t star, it was just our minds sentimentalizing a falling rock in space. That one question was never answered. It’s bothered her for a long time. But she has an eternity to get it right.

One Word: Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Pathways

They were surrounded by towering trees and had long since left any charted path. We have long carved pathways to make our world easier. Destinations and directions, aims and goals, there is always a path to be followed. However, is that path the best path there is? Are there other better possibilities? Or is the best path simply because it is the one that exists.

The Lady in Red turned away the instant The Man in White turned to face her. She was dreading this moment because she knew what was coming next. Was there another way? Possibly not. Even in a multitude of alternate realities, you get to experience only one. Their path had been set long ago, long before they had started walking down it. She couldn’t help but feel trapped as the wall she put up fell not around her, but straight on her. She hadn’t seen quite so clearly in a very long time. He felt ties that bound him slowly slip away. He hadn’t felt this lost in a very long time.

The Man in White knew this was his last chance to escape his prison forever. The Lady in Red knew this was her last opportunity to be free of her silence. He waited for her answer. She waited for his question.

One Word: Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Repetitions

The Man in White didn’t know where they were headed. It was a compulsion moving him forward. They left the littered streets, they left the town, they just left. He did not know her purpose, he did not know his own, but the connection he felt was like he had found his own soul. What is it that keeps us moving? Why don’t we fall apart? Is it just the way we are, or are we only attempting to hide our scars? Which world do we believe in? Do we believe in what we were told to believe, or do we follow the answers to our world just as blindly?

We have a tendency to repeat ourselves, be it for emphasis or out of our own foolishness, no one knows when it will destroy us, but the Lady in Red knows with certainty that it one day will. Certainty? She forgot that now this word no longer exists, not for her, not for anyone. It was a trick, a hoax, and it took an illusion to teach her that. She was now in the same forest again. She could only wait as the hands of time came back to repeat the never-changing cycle, the hands of time that were wrapped around her thin wrists.

She stopped, he stopped. Now it was not petals but leaves that fell from the sky. But then again, what’s the difference? The ticking still hadn’t stopped for the Man in White, but he felt that it soon would. The Lady in Red felt lucky that the Man in White had yet not asked her another question, for if he did, she knew that she wouldn’t have the answers.

One Word: Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Voices

What possessed her to turn around, she would never know. It was as if the apparition calling out to her had peeked into her soul. Her eyes glared at him though she didn’t mean for them to. She walked back to him and looked straight into his eyes.

The Lady in Red had never spoken to a man, but she knew that she didn’t need words to tell the friendly ghost what she felt. She gave him her hand, he led, she followed. Was the anomaly not an anomaly after all? It reminded her of an incident from her childhood, back when she believed in fate and didn’t even know what chance was. Back when she wore the colours of the rainbow and everything in between. Back when there were no limits or bounds in her small world of everything.

No matter how hard she tried, she could never remember what truly happened that day. She remembers the hand, the gentle fingertips that led her to safety. She was a lost little lamb that was saved only to be lost again. She lost her only friend that day. He was the only one who could ever stump her, but he was always there when she found out the answer for herself. She couldn’t answer the final question; she couldn’t answer it because her only assurance was gone. The silent voices in her head had ripped her heart to shreds. She never had cried.

One Word: Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Anomaly

Shock flashed across her eyes. She appeared to be temporarily stunned. The corner of her mouth twitched while she returned him a blank stare. Had he asked such an inappropriate question? How had the times changed? “Are you happy?” This had been his usual address to people, prior to his confinement. He never had had such an odd response to his words before, but then again, he could barely remember a thing.

What had drawn him towards her, he could not tell. He felt a faint pull, as if he was being directed, no, pushed towards her. The warm brown of her chestnut hair created a pleasant atmosphere which was sharply cut off by her cold grey eyes. She didn’t say anything, but he could hear her voice, all the gears in her head turning, and turning, and turning. He had never quite heard someone say so much without having said anything at all. The turning stopped.

Slowly, the vision of beauty that stood before him turned around and began to walk away. It was a brisk walk yet she carried herself with an artificial sense of elegance. A new wave of petals descended from the sky, mixing colours indiscriminately. “Please come back!” he called after her. He didn’t expect her to turn around. But she did.