Chin Up, Princess
She kept her head held high as she sat on the throne that her mother had sat in and her mother before her. It was hard to think that she would never grace these halls again, that she would never set herself upon this throne to hear the burdens of the people. She would never feel those burdens settle upon her shoulders.
Just thinking about them had become a burden itself. But that burden was about to be set free. She heard the screams as the enemies broke through the fence, continuing their advance. Their advance towards the castle.
Adrenaline pounded in her veins as her body begged her to stand, to run, to move. She remained firmlyin her seat. Her head not once slipping, her eyes never once met the floor.
"Chin up, Princess or the crown slips." Her mother's favorite phrase echoed through her head. That was the only reason she had stayed rooted to this damned palace even as the sounds of swords clanging rang straight through the halls.
The look in her mother's eyes as she fled, her head down and tears pooling in her eyes. The way her crowned slipped off, the sound of the gold and jewels as it struck the floor.
"Chin up, Princess or The Crown Slips."
The last of the guards must have fallen because the doors were being banged open. Several men entered the throne room, a tear slipped down her cheek. Her eyes met the eyes of the enemy, head held high and crown resting study.
The men pulled their swords all aimed for her chest. She rose from the throne and her eyes held a form of defiance even as she approached her death. The crown never slipped as the pain exploded in her chest and her life force drained from her body.
The only sound as her eyes went dull was the sound of her crown meeting with the floor.
Chin up, princess or the crown slips.
***Author's Note*** :
A one-shot based on the quote, "chin up princess or the crown slips."
Hope you enjoy! ❤
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***My Previous Article*** :
**My story** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-story-70283656
**Parking lots and meetings** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/parking-lots-and-meetings-b34dd827
**Magical Moth** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/magical-moth-f9e0cb29
**I always wondered what nothing meant** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/i-always-wondered-what-nothing-meant-6e4ad203
**Does god exist then why is there suffering** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/does-god-exist-then-why-is-there-suffering-d0adfb3f
My Story
I have a story to tell. My story. I was emotionally and verbally abused as a child, as a young child all the way until seventh grade. This abuse caused me to hate myself, I hated everything about me, but mostly I hated the fear, the fear that I held over everything. I thought I was incapable, worthless and that I would never survive. I almost didn't.
I was diagnosed with severe social anxiety in fifth grade. I hid my depression and psychosis away, not wanting to be thought of as the sad or crazy little girl. I was in the therapy until the middle of sixth grade. Then I wanted out of therapy, I wanted to be better so I pretended to be.
I often think back to why I held such hatred for my mental illness. I contribute it to my father. His family and him didn't believe in me, being mentally ill or anything that made you less than perfect. He made me think I was weak, I was disgusting. So I pretended to be better. I fought my own. I wanted nothing more than to die and some days I wanted to self harm. Some days I did.
In seventh grade my father came close to hitting my mother, not the first time physical violence had been seconds away, but the scariest. We were about to leave for school. I was trying not to be sick already. My mother drove us to the bus stop and called my uncle to get rid of him. He was gone when I got home from school.
**Image Source** https://pin.it/6EIku7f
In eight grade I had what I refer to as my official mental breakdown. I admitted everything. How I threw up at least once a day from being scared. How my body shook with terror after I left my house. How I didn't want to be alive. I was put back in therapy and given medication.
Things went downhill. I had to try harder and it yielded less results. Schoolwork began to become torture. Sometimes. I would have black outs for an entire class period. Other times I would throw up until the bell rang. Some days I hid in the bathroom and cried, pretending not to be there. There were days where my body couldn't leave my bed.
Friends started to scare me as well as strangers. Crowds made me dig my fingernails into my wrist until it bled. Men though, men were the worse. Whenever I was around a man my body was ready for a fight, for an argument, ready to cower in fear or ready to throw a punch. My body became a constant warzone. I felt like I was being attacked when I wasn't.
Adrenaline became almost like a drug, a constant factor. My bodies nerve system was in use almost every second and I would shake for nearly four hours. Fight or flight response was my automatic response to any social interaction I had.
I survived for as long as I could. But then I couldn't. In february 2015 I took an unhealthy amount of Ibuprofen while locked in my bathroom before school. I waited for fifteen minutes, once my brain was in control and I wasn't terrified for my life I threw them up.
I went to the. Hospital for awhile after that. They had all these nurses and counselors that pretended to know what they were doing. It didn't help. They were just as lost and scared as us patients were. When I was released I was considered fragile, people tip toed around me and did things for me. I was never pushed out of my comfort zone so I never got better.
One day I woke up and didn't feel as shaky as normal. I know that it was partly my medications but I felt okay in a long time. I asked to go out that day, we went for lunch. I ordered my own food. No one commented on it, I thought I could be normal again.
That feeling, that 'okay', lasted for three and a half days. I was in the middle of walmart when the terror came back. I was in the middle of a sentence when my breath caught. My heart wasn't beating right. There were to many people. I was in danger, it felt like the closest thing to dying then anyone could ever imagine. Instead of running or hiding I stood still and cried it out.
Now here I am, two years later. I'm not okay, not all the time at least. But now with my bad days and my okay days I get my good days. I still have the urges to run or to self harm but I know they'll pass.
In fifth grade I thought I would die before I turned fifteen. In seventh grade I thought I wouldn't live to see eight grade. In eighth grade I almost died before I got to live. I'm in eleventh grade Now, at age seventeen. Some days I don't expect to make it to adulthood. Some days I don't want to live to be eighteen.
But when I'm twenty and I look back at all this I'm going to cry because I'll finally be able to say I did it. Maybe when I'm twenty I'll still have my bad days more then my good ones and maybe I won't be happy, but I'll have made it to that point.
***Author's Note*** :
Good afternoon. This article was made 4 years ago. I want to share with you my experience of having an anxiety. Hope you liked it. 😊
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***My Previous Article*** :
**Parking lots and Meetings** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/parking-lots-and-meetings-b34dd827
**Magical Moth** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/magical-moth-f9e0cb29
**I always wondered what nothing meant** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/i-always-wondered-what-nothing-meant-6e4ad203
Parking lots and Meetings
Anxiety is sitting in the car outside of the meeting you were supposed to be at twenty minutes ago. Sitting, covered in my own sick, air not making it's way into my lungs, body shaking so bad, heart pounding so fast it feels like it stopped.
Is this a panic attack or heart attack? You have panic attacks all the time, you know what they feel like. This feels different but it doesn't really it feels worse but it's not really.
You have to pee, but you only have to pee because you're scared. If you leave your car you'll be even more scared. You can't leave the car and pee your pants again, the second time this week. Plus you're covered in throw up.
You're sitting alone in the parking lot but the people are there. Some of them walk past and some are just staring. Some reach through the car window and you feel their cold chill as they grab you. Some try to speak, words telling you how pathetic you are. They seem to terrifying to be fake, the brain isn't cruel enough to create such atrocities.
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But you know they're fake because when you turn the radio up and focus on singing the lyrics they fade away into tiny wisps of smoke.
The radio. You turn the radio up louder, but not to loud. You don't want anyone to know you're here, you don't want to know your here. Every gag turns into a word, a mumbled and slurred word.
Perhaps you're drunk. It's all in you're head. Instead of being trapped in a parking lot with no way to run you're back in your bed. You still have no where to run but now the only people who will see you are the shadows in you're head.
Your phones ringing. The shrill tone is to much and you're head begins to pound as hard as your heart is. You want to answer it but you're voice won't work. You know this, you've tried it before.
Headlights pass by. The light isn't in your eye sight but yet it blinds you. Sensory overload is kicking in. You can hear it. Every little sound. You can feel it, every little shift.
You didn't know there was a fly in the car until now. It's buzzing reminds you of a chainsaw. A chainsaw reminds you a killer. A bloody chainsaw is flying around your car. You still can't see it, can't find it. Perhaps this is an illusion to.
The phone rings again. The sound send goosebumps through you're body. You check it and see a message. From you're friend. She's encouraging you, she knew how anxious you were. But she doesn't know that her encouragement is too late now, that her words on falling on a deaf ears and blind eyes.
You think about the medicine you have at home. It was supposed to help you. But it hasn't. It's been seven days since an attack this big so it has to have helped a little but it's not helping, that means it's not working.
No focus. Text her back. Tell her you need help. Stop shaking, stop bouncing you're leg ignore the shadow people outside the door, ignore the bloody chainsaw buzzing around your head. Text her back, get help.
It's going well. You're fingers shake as you type and with a deep breath you press send.
***Author's Note*** :
Good afternoon ebwiwan! Thanks for those people who supported me here. Keep safe always. Lovelots. ❤
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**Magical moth** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/magical-moth-f9e0cb29
**I always wondered what nothing meant** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/i-always-wondered-what-nothing-meant-6e4ad203
**Falling underwater** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/falling-underwater-9ede19c6
Magical moth
I peered into our outside bathtub. It was located next to our house, held up by a wooden platform me and my parents had made especially for holding it up. There was a moth floating in the old murky water, it's wings splayed out beside it, unmoving. I knew it was already dead. Still, I couldn't help but put my finger under it's fragile little body, and gently lift it out of the water.
As I started at it, I started gently blowing air onto it. I didn't know why, it was useless. I mean.... It already died.still, I kept blowing air onto it. I walked back and forth on our deck as I did so. Then I saw my dad on the deck watering the plants and flowers. I walked over to him and showed him the moth.
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"Hey dad," I said. "Look what I found in the bathtub. A dead moth! I'm gonna try to save it."
Why did I say that? It was already dead.
D-E-A-D.
My dad looked at it.
"Oh wow, you can do it!" He said that with a smile on his face, and the hose in his hand.
I wasn't so sure, but I kept blowing air on it. Secretly, I was pretending that I was reviving it, but I wasn't so sure, and I didn't want to get my hopes up.
"We'll see." I said, resuming my gentle blowing.
I opened the deck door to the house my parents made themselves when I was a baby, and stepped inside, still blowing.
"Hey mom, I found a moth in the bathtub." I said.
She was inside, busy doing something, but she paused for a little to look at the moth on the tip of my finger.
"I'm sorry sweetheart, if it's not dying, it's dead." She said.
I'm knew it. I knew it already, but I didn't stop blowing. I blew for a long time after that, non-stop. There was still a small small chance that-
Suddenly, I saw a small movement, and what I thought was a sparkle. Barley noticeable, but there. I held my breath mentally, and kept blowing, never taking my eyes off of it. I imagined it, right? It couldn't have moved! but when it fluttered again, I couldn't help but grin.
"Mom, Dad! It's alive.." i whispered as calmly as I could.
I didn't know if they could hear loud noises, so I avoided shouting.
My mom couldn't believe it, she was amazed. I "practically revieve it," as she put it. My dad didn't seem surprised, he knew I could do it.
I kept blowing on it's swings, slightly harder now, to dry it, and prepare it for flying off. When it was flapping it's wings pretty well to dry them off, I gently cupped my hands around it, and stepped outside onto our deck to set it free.
But when I opened my hands, it was gone...
Without a trace.
***Author's Note*** :
Hey guys, thanks for reading, I appreciate it. I just thought I would let you know that this short story is actually a dream I had about half a year ago. It was.... Truly Magical✨. I did my best to write it as similar to what actually happened, while making it as story like as possible at the same time as I could. I hoped you enjoyed! 😊
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***My Previous Article*** :
**I always wondered what 'nothing' meant** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/i-always-wondered-what-nothing-meant-6e4ad203
**Does god exist then why is there suffering** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/does-god-exist-then-why-is-there-suffering-d0adfb3f
**Falling underwater** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/falling-underwater-9ede19c6
**Who is the one** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/who-is-the-one-811170a3
**Displacement** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/displacement-7de7a5ec
I always wondered what 'nothing' meant
When I woke up on a dusty floor in a situation I could not yet fathom, my first reaction was to groan in annoyance. But when I went back into the memories of the night before, my heart skipped a beat.
I couldn't recall where I was, how I got there or how long I had been there.
But still I pushed myself off the floor, joints popping and cracking, and my entire body protesting. I slowly reached for the flashlight I kept with my keys which, thankfully no one took. I warily turned it on, and immediately did not like where I was. Not that I ever liked waking up in unknown places.
Especially if that unknown place had cold, stone brick walls and smelled of death and decay and thick layers of dust. There was no one was around, and the torches decorating the walls at strategic points were burnt out already.
It was then that I realized my heart was beating like mad.
But the fright hadn't settled in yet. I couldn't recall anything that happened the day before, and I was in what could quite possibly be the creepiest building in the country, but for some reason I didn't panic.
Well, until I looked down and jumped at the fact that my whole body was covered in bruises, cuts and scrapes. I looked around flailing the flashlight, and began walking, memorizing the turns, so I didn't get lost.
All I could smell was blood and death, and combined with the fact that the place seemed to be cleaned once in a few decades, it was awful. I couldn't help but cough, and scare myself doing it; my head snapped up, my whole body tensing before relaxing, and I realized that oh,
I made that noise.
I got lost in my thoughts and I had no idea where I was heading, or where I came from. I nearly fell down a flight of unexpected, creaky metal stairs that lead to what seemed to be sewers. The scent of decay and sewage was increasing by the second, and almost making me gag. I spotted a sluggish looking puddle of liquid on the floor. I thought of everything that could be in it as I cautiously stepped around it.
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I made a sharp turn, breathing through my ripped sleeve, and then my heart froze As I saw what was around the corner.
Bodies. Bodies ripped apart and thrown into the disgustingly coloured water; blood and sewage, an uneven orange hue spreading across the eroding stones, collecting where gravity pulled it to.
I looked around properly for the first time since I got to the sewers. Wooden boxes lay everywhere, scattered around in the little over ankle deep water. I carefully placed my foot on the closest box. It seemed stable enough, so I stepped onto it. It wobbled slightly but I regained my balance, even through my dizziness. I reached out for another box but froze when I heard water splashing to my right. I slowly looked up, mt heart racing and waved the flashlight but I couldn't see a thing. I went back to pulling the box towards myself when I heard it again. The splashing of water, footsteps to be exact.
In my panic, I whipped my head around, flashlight following. Nothing. There wasn't a single threat apart from the looming sewer walls and stench that radiated from the water that was seeping into wood of the boxes.
The footsteps had faded and I lost my balance again, my head became fuzzy and my heart raced, before I simply fainted, dropping motionless into the water and feeling my skin and flesh rip. I heard the squishing noises of someone chewing, before things went bright and hot and I woke up to nothing.
Nothing.
Even now, there's still nothing.
I never knew nothing was possible. I mean, there's always something. When you think of nothingness, you tend to imagine nothing as a black silence, but black is something same way silence is something. This, on the other hand, is nothing. I can't describe it, simply because there is nothing to describe. Nothing. The word keeps running through my mind. The lack of everything confuses me and frustrates me even more; I can't figure out what's going on.
Problem is, nothing is going on, and I think I'm dead.
***Author's Note*** :
Today's raining. Keep safe and pray to God always. 😘 and of course my beloved internet friends out there. thanks for supporting me here. I love you. 😊❤
***My Previous Article*** :
**Falling underwater** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/falling-underwater-9ede19c6
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Self-driving cars?
Self driving cars are a blessing to humanity's transportation. It solves so many of humanity's problems such as minimizing the number of car crashes, drunk driving, and even tiredness. When people travel home drunk, they can just get in the car, and the car can drive them home! No problem! Can't keep your eyelids open wide enough? Hop right in and sleep! The self-driving car will take care of everything so... What's the problem?
The people of the world deserve to drive cars themselves. That's what the opposing argument would say really? Is this really true? "Over 90% of accidents today are caused by driver error. Said Professor Robert W. Peterson of the Center of Insurance Law and Regulation at Santa Clara University School of Law". The other ten percent are due to a technological failure in the cars. Can you really say that with billions of car crashes every year, and millions of people get hurt, killed, or mentally disabled due to accidents, is really proof that humans should be the ones driving the cars? No, it's not! Not at all. Of course, we can't rely on technology too much, so there should be a way to turn off in case, but other than that, humans should not be driving. We speed, or were too slow when driving in other cases. We don't park correctly and end up taking up a big chunk of the road, and we even pass cars on the left hand side when people are going too slow, or about to turn when the lines on the road are a double yellow! This is not acceptable, and even still, there are other reasons humans are not capable of driving properly enough to spare the lives of parents, grandparents, children and friends. And on back roads that's not really even road in some areas of the country, and other countries? People can still drive because there are fewer people and the GPS in the car may not understand where to guide the road to the place you're traveling for whatever reason. See everyone's happy!
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Self-driving cars are potentially dangerous due to hackers, and vehicle malfunctions.
"But wide use of self driving cars is still many years away, and testers are still sorting out hypothetical risks-like hackers- and real world challenges, like what happens when an autonomous car breaks down on the high way." Of course, things like this can happen, but again not all hackers and black tops.* there are also many white tops,* whose jobs are to build up internet security in the world to prevent black top and gray top* computer savvy people to prevent them from hacking into things. Even then, many people a popular hacking group called "Anonymous" is considered a horrible hacking group, but many times, they help people all over the world get freedom from overly strict governments, and inhumane things. There will always be back people in the world, but to put all hackers in the group of possible people to hack into your car? Not all of them will do it, and with white top hackers improving internet security every day? They can surely do something to help with future possible hacks to vehicles. As for malfunctions, they are dangerous, but not as much as human drivers. Again, 90% of crashes are from human errors, not vehicles.
People will be put out of hundreds of jobs when these cars come out! This statement is both truthful, and false at the same time. Look at this quote; Some of these may be a bit surprising, like postal carriers. But once full autonomous vehicles are commonplace it would make sense for the postal service to make use of the technology to deliver mail, especially in. Areas where curbside mailboxes are standard and it would be rather simple for a mechanical arm to deposit and retrieve mail directly" This quote isn't one hundred percent in thinking straight of course, there will be less crashes, but people who want to work on cars, can help build cars too, and if a vehicle malfunction, car engineers can fix these malfunctions! And as for airports? We may be trusting our cars, but some people don't want to be in a car for hours. Even if they can sleep and the car is able to deliver them to their targeted location.... Who wants to be in a car that long? Then some people have to go to different cities suddenly, and get there pronto! Planes are much faster ofcourse, planes can be booked out, and then the car will be the next option, but that doesn't the staff in airports! The thoughts of airports being put out of business aren't as complex as it seems because, in reality, not too many people will lose jobs in airports due to self driving cars! Then people who can't afford jobs will still need a taxi, and delivering boxes through cars? Such as mails? It's illegal to look through other people's mail but it still happens. Wouldn't you rather have a person hand you the mail than get it yourself to find out ... Stole your mail that was over a thousand dollars to buy and mail! This is exactly the reason why even if self-driving cars make their innovation in society, jobs won't be
***Author's Note*** :
This article is inspired of Kdrama series. I forgot what the title is. Hope you like this one. Thanks to all my sponsors out there! 😍 muaahps. ❤
***My Previous Article*** :
**Does god exist then why is there suffering** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/does-god-exist-then-why-is-there-suffering-d0adfb3f
**Falling Underwater** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/falling-underwater-9ede19c6
**Who is the one** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/who-is-the-one-811170a3
**Displacement** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/displacement-7de7a5ec
Thank you Very much to Sponsorship again @Carisdaneym2 😊❤️ Gulat ako don sa 1$ hihi ang bait naman talaga . God bless you
Does GOD exist? Then why is there suffering?
Some say GOD is dead, or that God didn't even exist. But, I believe that God did exist back then and that God still exists today. I believe God exists because I can see how he does things for me, and others. Let me give an example. You don't see the wind. You can't see the way it moves yet, we know it exists because we can feel the breeze hitting against our skin, blowing through our hair, and ruffling the leaves in the trees. We can hear the wind howl and make the leaves chatter. That's how we know the wind is real. So, the same can be said for God.
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Now, one of the questions that are hardest for people to talk about, and even some Christians lose their faith about so, if God exists, why does he allow suffering, why do we have suffering? My brother lost his faith for this very reason. God made humans because he didn't want robotic creatures who followed, his every command. You may ask, why he'd want this well, when someone follows you willingly and does what you say because you asked, it brings much more glory to yourself, or in this case, God. Because it doesn't feel fulfilling for someone to always obey your orders only because they're made to do that; because it's their purpose, their job. They have no will to do so. So, someone who obeys God because they want too, it makes God much happier than a robotic creature. Humans chose, in the very beginning chose to disobey and so because of our mistakes, we have created our own suffering.
So, the final question is why does suffering still exist. Why does God allow it? There's a verse in the bible that God won't let you suffer more than you can handle with you believe in God. In other words; it'll be more than you can handle, but if you trust, and believe in God, he will guide you through it. In the story of Joseph, God allows Joseph to be sold into slavery by his own half brothers, be imprisoned, but somehow, he still ends up as second in command of all Egypt. God didn't allow these struggles because he wanted to see how Joseph would react. He knew how he'd react. These things were for Joseph, so he could see what he himself was capable of as long as he trusted to God, which he did. Another reason he did this, is so Joseph could save his family.
Israel (also known as Jacob), lived in the land of Canaan. Israel was Joseph's Father, and the reason God brought Joseph into Egypt, was because one he had been taught useful things that would be needed to be in that rank of power and he worked hard. However, there was another reason. The family of Israel was located in a place where they could be killed, as they were considered a small family at the time so, God initiated a famine and drought and joseph having gone through struggles, realized how influential and how smart he could be. So, he helped egypt become the strongest nation at the time, by making water and grain storage. This caused the family of Israel to seek help from egypt, and when they realized Joseph live there, they went there and were protected for a long period of time.
In conclusion: GOD does exist, he allows suffering to strengthen us, protect us from other things in the long run, and because of our own mistakes.
**Author's Note** :
Goodafternoon darlings!!just pray always. And don't forget our God, he's our saviour! 😁❤ thanks to all my sponsors and commenters. love you muuaps
***My Previous Article*** :
**Falling Underwater** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/falling-underwater-9ede19c6
**Who is the one** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/who-is-the-one-811170a3
**Displacement** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/displacement-7de7a5ec
Falling Underwater
**Water**.
It was everywhere, but you weren't supposed to be in the water, were you?
You don't know.
Well, it wasn't everywhere, not quite yet. Your ears are still above water and you can hear something. Some crashing, like waves. That would sense, there's water all around you.
You can also hear... voices? You don't understand.
And then you go under.
It's surprisingly peaceful. You open your eyes, ignoring the stinging, and see miles and miles of dark water.
And shapes, and you don't know if they're rocks or something else, or something.... else.
There's a lot of things that could be hiding in the ocean, and you really don't know.
(But is this even the ocean? You heard waves... It might've been a lake. You don't know.)
Water is just everywhere.
You can feel it, your ears are popping, and something's wrong?
It's getting darker, no-not like a sunset, no it isn't turning all these- but it is turning all these colors. It doesn't make sense.
No, it's just turning darker. If you look far enough you can see the deep blue-
Something moved. You know it wasn't a rock, something moved.
Why was it moving? What was out there?
(Then again, you really don't know.)
You can feel something beneath you- a ledge maybe? It's not hard, exactly, it's slightly cushioned like- like a layer of sand or something.
But it feels rocky and you can feel your legs drifting over the edge but you don't know how to stop.
(Do you? Maybe you do but you don't want to, either.)
There's water in your nose now. It's flooding everywhere and it's stings. Maybe this is the ocean, maybe that's why it stings.
It's everywhere. You can feel it running into your mouth.
Oh. Oh, that's not supposed to happen, right? Really not supposed to-
Why are you fine?
No, that can't be right. People can't survive underwater, humans can't survive underwater. You thought that you were supposed to breathe air.
Maybe you don't.
It doesn't make sense, but you're fine. Sure, your ears have popped but you can't see any dark red floating out of them, it doesn't make sense.
Your feet are literally hanging off a ledge that goes straight into an abyss. How are you not but you're breathing?
Your eyes are wide, they're staring out, and they don't sting anymore... they don't sting?
Something's wrong, but you don't really care anymore, do you?
I can see why you wouldn't. It's peaceful down here, just endless dark water and something is moving, something keeps moving.
You can tell it's coming closer but you don't know what's going on.
You see it. It's closer now. It's looks like a horse.
No, it's not a horse. Well it looked like a horse and now it doesn't and you're don't know what it looks like. But it definitely isn't anything you've seen before.
So... you reach out.
You're fingertips aren't even pruney, and you've been underwater for so long at this point.
(How long has it been? Probably better not to think about it at this point.)
Something's wrong, you know it and this is just another thing in a long list of wrong things, but you reach out-
And it takes your hand.
You don't know what it is, you don't know what they're doing, you don't know who they are, if that's even what they're called.
You remember the old stories of the water spirits? I know I do.
You remember the old stories of the ones that would drag you into the depths, and then you'd drown, but you're not drowning.
(For whatever reason, it finally feels like you're breathing.)
Well, they took your hand, and it pulled you under. But you were fine, you didn't care. Your ears popped again but there was still nothing going wrong.
You could hear perfectly fine-you could hear the water rushing past, but maybe that was the blood roaring in your ears... You're not sure.
And in the end when you reach the bottom you can see.
Well barely, you can barely, just barely see tiny, tiny creatures all roaming around. Some of them are glowing, and the thing that took your hand turns to you and whispers,
"Do you understand?"
And you turn, and you look at it, and you say,
"No, I don't understand."
And now it looks... more like you do.
(You can't say human, because clearly at this stage you're not human, but you're not... different. You look the same and you feel the same, but you're not.)
All it does is smile, and it holds out its other hand.
"If you don't want to go any further, I won't take you."
I guess you were curious, because you took it's hand again. And they pulled you down down into the depths, further and further and there wasn't anything.
It was so bright. It shouldn't be bright, there's something under the ocean. Something, and you could see it.
You could see it all.
You could see the thousands of creatures roaming around, you could see.. beings like you that look like you, and maybe dressed like you that you could see just floating like you were and you didn't understand.
But when the creature looked at you and it whispered,
"I won't take you
farther if you don't want to go."
You. Nodded and you said,
"I want to go"
And when you spoke, it felt like you were speaking just like you would in the air.
(It felt like going home but you didn't know what that meant.)
It took you further, sat you down in a room make of lava rock, lit from underneath by magma and constantly shifting and turning.
You could see it, you could see something.
Something beyond these creatures.
Something beyond the oceans.
Something beyond the world.
And when it smiled, and asked you,
"Do you understand?"
All you could do was look at it and whisper,
"Yes"
How do I know this?
Well, that's easy.
I'm the thing that pulled you into the depths. I'm the one that led you down until I opened your eyes to see something far greater than any of us.
When you remember, come down to the depths again. There's secrets here that even I don't know.
There's secrets, that I believe, you'd like to find out.
As for this world, well... You belong here.
Whether you know it or not.
And you'd.
Whether you like it or not.
Let me tell you, this world, this room is only the beginning.
You have to look just a little bit further for everything to reveal itself.
Now, come on. Wake up.
(And when you remember, find me again.)
**Author's Note** :
Good day! This is fiction story 😁 hope you like it this one. 😘😊 thanks to all my sponsors 😘
**Lead Image** https://pin.it/2syupkf
***My Previous Article*** :
**Who is the one?** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/who-is-the-one-811170a3
**Displacement** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/displacement-7de7a5ec
**Grief** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/grief-4fa6673c
Who is the one?
The answer to that is pretty easy... I don't know. The unrealistic expectations movies have given us in finding "the one" for ourselves by always showing the same "love at first sight" bullshit has ruined what it really is all about. It's not just meeting someone and facing minor hiccups for a months and then eventually, always getting the girl or guy. It is very easy to ruin a perfectly good relationship by fostering unrealistic ideas of love or you might just push yourself into thinking someone is "the one" just because your story with them is very similar to some romantic comedy.
The other issue with these Hollywood inspired relationship is the added superficial behaviour in your arsenal. You will only look for someone you can actually justify using "love at first sight" for. That is again, bullshit. "The one" should be someone you're comfortable with, someone you can talk to about anything, someone you miss when they're not around, someone you can't see sad, someone you can rely on, someone you know will be there for you and not someone with 1800 likes on every Instagram post. Attraction is obviously important and cannot be disregarded but if that's all it is, that person ain't the one.
**Lead Image** https://pin.it/6JlizIK
For the longest time, my idea of "the one" was quite similar to these movies. I alway thought I will have a weird story with some girl which will be identical to any one of my favorite movies and it reached a point where I just starting comparing myself to these movies and thought if my story isn't movie worthy, then the entire thing is not worth it and it's time to let it go. As stupid as that may sound, it gets worse. My obsession with these movies reached a point where I would try to recreate movie scenarios in real life and even though it's not that hard to do, all it does it blow up your expectations or a very high level which is really hard to reach and I believe, with no statistical data whatsoever, that 83% "movie-based relationships" fail.
How to know who the one is shouldn't be that difficult but it is. Mostly you think you know but this cannot be a unilateral connection and it has to ba a strong link from both sides. An easy way to find out if he or she is the one is to imagine your life without that person and honestly to see how important you really are to the person as well. If your "one" doesn't think you're their "one" then it really defeats the purpose of finding the "the one".
I have been a very strong believer of "the one" for the longest time and my expectations were always realistic and luckily my movie obsession did not change into me obsessing over a girl just because it seemed like the story of a binge-watched movie on Netflix. I had my criteria for "the one" thought out long back. My criteria was pretty basic, someone I can't live without, can't see sad, can't keep my hands off when I'm with her. That's all I needed really.
Now luckily my "one" is someone I have trusted for years, was one of my real confidants and not just a gossiping friend, someone I was always attracted to, someone who just made me forget that other people exist, someone pretty, someone super smart, someone always willing to try new things with me and someone just like I knew I wanted. Ever since I've been with her, I have realized what I want in life and that's not limited to from my relationship with her, I just found my voice of reason and my calming presence and a million other things in such a tiny person. The amount she helps me unknowingly is amazing and I just wish she could see what she means to me. Now I can go on about her and my 1000 word limit will be crossed so I'll just conclude by saying I'm super lucky that my "one" has reassured me of the whole finding the one process and I found mine.
***Author's Note :***
Good day!
How's your day? Is it good or nah? 😁 I hope you feel good. By the way, this is a fiction story hope you like it. Muaahps💋😊
***My Previous Article*** :
**Eating alone** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/eating-alone-6dce93c9
**Displacement** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/displacement-7de7a5ec
**Grief** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/grief-4fa6673c
**My job as a woman** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-job-as-a-woman-bf254faa
Thank you very much ate @eylz2021 for sponsorship again 😍🥰 godbless you always po . More bch po sayo .
Eating Alone
Eating Alone
Some years ago, when fate found me suddenly single, I moved into an apartment solo. It's the only time I've truly lived by myself. I'm familiar with solitude; I cherish it (I'm an only child) I do my best thinking alone, I love to read alone and writing - I do that alone too. But mealtime, I've come to realize, is not a time I like to be by myself.
Dinner was sacred to my family. My parents taught me that mealtime was a community event. We each had a role to play: my mom, the head chef; my dad the prep cook; and myself, the busboy. Dinner from beginning to end, involved conversation (open lively) and arguments (usually boisterous). This was the element that made the whole ritual so important to us. Whether I screamed in frustration at my parent's constant corrections ("don't say 'ain't, dear. Were they really 'like' that?) Or my mother howled like a hyena at some tale of my dad's or my dad sang obscure rock n' roll hits he'd heard on Finkleman's 45's, this was when we shared ourselves.
My mother taught me to cook. I learned that the good meal is like the community it feeds. Pasta puttanesca gets its name from the prostitutes who invented the sauce using cheap ingredients. Like the women, the flavours are strong too: the smouldering sting of sautéed garlic, the budding zest of capers, the dark tang of calamata olives, the comfortable sweetness of Roma Tomatoes, the flaring heat of cayenne peppers and underlying it all, Anchovies like tears. The meal is a reflection of the person-or their home. It talk about its creator, in the language of flavours, to those who eat it.
**Lead Image** https://pin.it/6FyVwRB
I discovered the keys to a good meal are preparation and timing. Everything must be ready to go before heat gets involved (on cooking shows, preparations importance is neglected because it is completed off screen.) There is a rhythm to cooking: like dancing, you have to know the steps before you can add your style. I like to listen to loud, upbeat music when I cook. I mince garlic to the beat, pit olives wiggling my hips, open the tomato can, head bobbing. I drum with my spatula on the counter. I make a mess. From the chaos of the kitchen comes serene white pasta on a black plate covered with a bright red-sauce full of black olive halves, flecked with melting parmesan.
I place the plate upon the table and sit down with my guest, friend, lover. I hungrily watch the newly laden fork rise from the plate, enter the mouth, and then pause before sliding naked from closed lips. Perhaps his eyes close as a soft, involuntary "mmmm"escapes. Perhaps her chin thrusts toward the ceiling-shoulders relaxing, torso slouching slightly. The body shows its approval of food in a multitude of gestures, each a silent exaltation saying: "oh this is good!"
But I'm alone tonight. There is no payoff, no conversation. My fork stabs into the pasta. Click. Swirl. A plume of spiced steam. A riot of flavours whoring for the attention of my taste buds. But I hardly notice.
In my mind, I'm picturing myself alone at the table. I don't see cherished solitude, but isolation. Solitude, by becoming common, had lost its pleasure, and I no longer eat alone at home. In the same way that a great dish reflects a community, only a community can properly enjoy it.
I love to cook - for someone else.
***Author's Note :***
As always thanks for reading and please leave any comments you may have. I love feedback.
***My Previous Article :***
**Displacement** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/displacement-7de7a5ec
**Grief** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/grief-4fa6673c
**Be who you are** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/be-who-you-are-a9c712d8
**Coffee and Confessions in 1000 words** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/coffee-and-confessions-in-1000-words-16d5cdcc
**My job as a woman** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-job-as-a-woman-bf254faa
Displacement
Sailing is all about control: a sailboat is a tool designed to harness the wind and tame the seas. Sailors sit in their saddle, high atop the packhorse waters, using the reins to pull on the bit behind the teeth of the Clydesdale winds--masters of the elements.
Most sailors aren't scientists but we use science to explain our methods: vectors plot out force, The Venturi Effect explains sailing into the wind, displacement keeps the boat afloat. We imagine ourselves rugged techno-geeks. We fill our navigation stations with radios and GPS Systems. We attach Automatic Pilots to our steering. We feel like laser-guided Vikings conquering the open seas. The gadgets make sailors complacent; the science make sailors complacent--we depend upon what we don't understand.
Unworried, we live upon a paradox- a thin layer of hardened fibre glassheld upright by the Keel's Sisyphean effort to drag the boat straight to the bottom conflicting with the water's desire to keep her afloat.
The question "why I am floating?" usually never crosses my mind. It doesn't penetrate my dreams as I lie sleeping, the boat gently cradled by the water, a soft lap, lap of wavelets against her hull. Even the occasional tac, tac, tang of a loose line against the mast won't call up nightmares. It doesn't cause me to rush breakfast: burning the bacon and filling the low-ceilinged cabin with acrid blue smoke. It doesn't trip up my feet as I rig lines on the foredeck. I don't fall to my knees and kiss the ground each time I reach shore.
**LEAD IMAGE** https://pin.it/6AfR5HU
Protected by science and technology, I am soothed by the boat's gentle rocking. I gaze at the spinnaker's bright colours lit by the sun, smell the clean south wind's warmth. As water burbles, dad plays the sail; as lines creak, Dom reads on the foredeck;and as sails flap, I sit in the cockpit sipping a beer thinking this is perfect.
Four hours later, garbed head to toe in wet gear, I steer into the cold teeth of twenty knots of wind from the northeast. "This is starting to really suck, Dad." We have reefed every possible inch of cloth. Our rig looks like two napkins bravely clinging to clotheslines in a hurricane. The water is an ugly translucent slate colour, and the waves, eight to ten feet high and jagged in the way only a Great Lakes chop can be, come at us from two directions. Cross-chop. We're getting pounded.
The prow of the boat slams into a wave straight on-death to small sailboat. Firts, there's the booming sound, like the boat is saying oof! After being poked in the stomach with a baseball bat, then eveeything lurches forward. Hit two waves in a row like this and the boat stops. Without forward momentum, the boat can't be steered. If the waves knock her through the wind, and she tacks in twenty five knots while the crew isn't ready... Instant disaster.
To avoid pounding I steer across the wave's faces. I establish a rhythm: up into the crest, down off the crest. I become the boat, feeling her waterline, sensing her balance point to keep her smooth in the water. Holding the wheel in a death grip, I feel the currents of the waves jerking at the rudder, trying to throw me off course. I can feel the tension in the boat: the stays and shrouds humming, the hull resisting the punching seas. The mast creaks. A loose sheet bangs a manic tattoo on the foredeck. My shoulders ache from fighting the water, I'm getting tired. It's getting dark.
"We can't do this all night," I say to no one in particular-I'm too tired to think of alternatives. We hit a wave smack on the nose. Whu-ump! My chest slams against the arc of the wheel.
Dad's starts muttering, eyes in that half-gaze that means he's thinking. "....nothing left to reef, can't motor--'d have to steer, auto won't work in this chop..."
Uncle Dom pukes over the side; Dad's not looking so good either. I'm too busy to get sick, but they're hunkered in the cockpit under the awning getting tossed around. Then Dad's face lights up. "Well hove--to."
To heave to you tack but leave to Genoa cleated, so it backwinds, then you cleat the mainsail on the other tack, and stop steering. Sailors are control freaks. If they are going to give up control, then it's going to be to a machine designed to do the task. When a boat is hove to, you give up control to the wind. The idea is that as each sail backwinds, the prow of the boat slaloms through the head of the wind and kind of wallows forward like a drunken sailor. It reduces her speed, how much she heels, and the strain on her, but you have to let go. Let her take care of herself. When your life's on the line this is hard to do.
We are hove to. I sit behind the wheel staring stupidly as it spins. My hands clench. "Go to bed now on the floor." I not at dad.
I take the cushions off the seat and toss them on the floor. I check the table and kitchen area by the gangway to make sure there isn't anything dangerous left to fall down. I flop on the cushions in my clothes and try to sleep. I remember the nearest
***Author's Note*** :
I've come to notice that many author's end chapters with little requests for votes. I'm not really all that interested in votes (by all means do, if you like this work, but really, I vote to keep track of my place in a book, so it's not something I live for). What I do desire is comments from readers.
I'm likely going to have a series of sailing related writing, so I'm interested to know if I've struck a good balance with jargon and explanation. (Without getting too heavy handed.)
***My Previous Article*** :
**Grief** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/grief-4fa6673c
**Be who you are** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/be-who-you-are-a9c712d8
**My job as a woman** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-job-as-a-woman-bf254faa
Grief
No one had talked about that day, not in five years. I had pushed myself away from everybody in an attempt to forget, but you never can. Memories always have to do that don't they? To just seem to disappear and finally leave you in peace only to appear again when you hear a phrase or smell a certain smell that reminds you of the time you desperately want to forget. It's cruel, having to live with the memory of something that can so easily pull you apart. I have memories and the inevitability of living with awful ones.
The last glimpse of her was on the number one platform of Grey River Station. I was coming down the stairs when I saw her stepping into the first carriage of a train. I dropped my bag and took a dozen steps in two crazy leaps, but too late. The doors closed and the train began to move. That was it. I was so close to telling her everything, all of the truth in me, and she was gone.
She was my sister and I was never going to see her again. Of course at the time, I hadn't known that. I had to confess everything to her, why her boyfriend had to leave and why I stopped opening up. I had opted writing a letter instead, writing a text or call it wouldn't be enough to explain why she was in the situation she was in. I walked away half-heartedly, however because I wanted to finally tell her in person.
Lead Image https://pin.it/7Fhq3zm
I was going to tell her about her boyfriend's depression. About how he couldn't live with knowing he was putting Kayla through as much misery that he was dealing with himself. He had to leave without telling her, if he killed himself he knew very well it would kill her too. She had no idea about any of it, for awhile she had brought him to his feet and he hadn't felt depressed in so long, but happiness in his situation is only short lived.
I made him confess to me when I caught him in a Mcdonalds that night. It was four am, I had driven out to find a place to write my finals essay in peace. He had puffy red eyes and looked liked a wreck and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. A coffee and a long talk later he explained that he was driving as far as he could to get away. He hadn't told Kayla and he wasn't on planning doing so, he wanted to leave without her noticing as of to make the break up less hard on her. He admitted to me his battle with his disorder and how tiring it was, he couldn't put her through that. I nodded and tried to understand, but I didn't. I didn't understand how could you just disappear on someone without saying goodbye or looking back. For any reason.
She never knew she didn't know why he left or where he went. She was in denial for so long, she moped around and watched sad movies and listened to sad songs. It was a typical post breakup reaction and I now wish I had been more kind to her during it. I didn't exactly react the best way.
I've never been in a relationship like that before and I didn't understand how hard it really was to get over somebody leaving you. I treated her somewhat like a child, something I now sincerely regret.
She eventually got over him and moved on with her life, decided to use the next year travelling around the country. That's when I last saw her, the day I decided to tell her why I stopped being her sister and why the boy she loved disappeared. The train dropped her off in some remote country town and she was found dead the next morning in an alley, the police came to the conclusion that she was the target of a hit and run. I never told her what she was so desperately trying to find out, and I would never forgive myself.
The next year or so is a blur of grief. I spent little time out of the house, a lot of time alone in my room and stacks after stacks of movies so I could lose myself in the protagonist's problems as compared to the lack of Kyla. We didn't always get along, but she was my sister and my friend. There's nothing quite like mourning a friend.
To this day I still miss her. When any mention of Harry Potter comes about I am flooded with memories of every saturday "family movie night" in which she would force the family to watch the movies for the hundredth time. When I smell vanilla I am reminded of her favourite perfume. "Teenage dirt bag" reminds me of the nights in which we would jump on my bed and scream along to our favorite songs. Her memory follows me wherever I go and I can never escape it.
Sometimes it's like an arrow to the chest, but sometimes I smell the vanilla or hear the opening tune to "the half blood prince" I can't help but smile. When I'm in the car, driving to work, and the first few, oh so familiar lyrics of her favourite "wheatus" song, I can't help but sing along the way we would in my memories.
I don't know much about God's great plan for me or anything about what life is truly about, I'm just a 23 year old Girl with messy brown hair and thick glasses. However, I have learnt this: grief can pull you apart, but the memories can pull you back together. And that is what Kayla, my bright eyed ball of energy that is my sister, has taught me.
***Author's Note:***
Have a great day!
I'm hoping that now that this article is up I'll feel more motivation to write something. For it!
***My Previous Article:***
**Somebody once warned me that the world was going to kill me** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/somebody-once-warned-me-that-the-world-was-going-to-kill-me-dad6e47a
**Be who you are** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/be-who-you-are-a9c712d8
**Coffee and confessions in 1000 words** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/coffee-and-confessions-in-1000-words-16d5cdcc
**My job as a woman** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-job-as-a-woman-bf254faa
Somebody once warned me that the world was going to kill me
At the time, I didn't know what to do with the information I'd been given. It was nonsense, and not useful in the slightest to a young child. I disregarded it pretty quickly, if I'm honest at least, I thought that I did.. I suppose it stuck with me in ways I didn't fully realize into very recently.
I never bottled up my emotions, not once. The words "I'm fine" never stung my throat through painful, hidden tears. I would answer any question thrown at me by my peers, no matter how long the answer maybe, or how little I knew they cared.
I was just a child when I was told, I remember it as clear as day. Somebody once told me that the world was going to kill me. A man, I think I supposed it could have been a woman. I don't know, you see, because I didn't pay attention. From the voice.. If I'm correct.. I'd say it was actually a woman. She sat me down on a bench at the park.
"The world is going to kill you. It will convince you that seawater resides in your lungs. Whisper that flowers grow in your veins. Say that your brain is where the jungle trees grow." She was calm, looking up at the sky. "You shouldn't believe this lies. The hair on your head is not made of fire. Your irises aren't fools. Your breath isn't a song. The world is a lier, and you should drown it all out."
I looked away then, I didn't understand what she was telling me, and she wasn't my adult. Thinking about it, I didn't see my adult again after that day.
"The world will try to convince you that you're something special so they can snuff you out and make you fall in line. Do not let it. Rise up above the screaming that everyone else ignores and force yourself to be heard"
"Then she simply got up, and walked away. Again, I say "she"... I still don't actually know. I think she "sounds" safer.
I don't remember much before that in terms of my childhood. I was nine, I think when she spoke to me, so I should have at Least some memories. But nothing major surfaces. A few blurry face at some form of a school. A false recollection of stories someone else told me. And a day out at the park with that lady. I supposed that's normal. I'm not sure, I don't tend to us about memories, they can be far too powerful.
I supposed that's why no one asks me questions, anymore either, I always no just a little too much.
People are far too easy to bruise, anyhow. You say a single word out of place and suddenly you're the bad guy. It wasn't my damn fault that I was right about Mark's mum and dad. It was obvious, the divorce was imminent. I don't understand how everyone was so blind to that fact.
I predicted a lot. Privately, mostly because no one wanted to know. But I knew, I knew about fires, breakups, breakdowns, lives both ending and beginning. My guardian put it down to 'being an observant child'. I put that definition down to his fear of me. I miss him.
At the age of 13, I was sent to psychiatrist. Oh, girl... That went well.
***Author's note :***
Good day! Sorry for being inactive in some busy days. 😁 I'll make bawi this week. Haha. I hope you like this article as you like my previous ones😘 thank you very much to all sponsors of mine. ❤
Lead Image https://pin.it/3BgUqrn
Be Who You Are
Living in this demonstrative society we have forgot the reasons for which we are living.. The reason we are alive for..
Come on, here you are to show yourself, the true yourself.. To live life peacefully? To eat 3 times a day? To sleep 8 hours a day...
Lead Image https://pin.it/3ClYGb9
NOOO!! A person with it's real personality will always feel contented with what he has.. A true man never thinks of society... That what it thinks or speak about you.. You will feel all this when you are in trouble no one will help you, no one will ever care..
So what's the all fake face for? A person deserves to be replied as he has acted. Not everyone deserves to show love or affection all the time.. You don't need to be that much good that it destroys you.. You will think that if you show your true face people will dislike you? Yeah, that's right they will "Be happy in front of those who hates you it kills them" BECAUSEEEEE... Showing your true self is not a sin or a bad behaviour in just you way of living.. Not everyone in life is busy.. It's all about priorities it's our nature that anger is against pain... If one says that he/she is angry on you it means that you have hurt him/her. Cause it's true no one cares for you feeling until it's their matter too in these few days of life I may not be the perfect one itself but have learnt one thing.
These fake faces are more dangerous than any monster. People here in the world have just come to blame you, your work or to dis class everything you might have, everyone have 1000 of faces they show you in different times..
***Here we can really imagine few examples related to our daily lives:***
1. If you fail, people will make fun of you.
2. If you success, they'll get jealous of you.
3. If you lie they will love you
4. If you speak truth they will hate you.
So, just simple it's the pattern of life. Be yourself ***"Be Who You Are"***.. Don't let people destroy your feelings.. Of face the face of low class the face of middle class the face of high class so many faces that we actually forgot which is real one which is us we are living life if someone else and we even do not known who? we are living in the society which say be your self and then they all do discrimination on who you are we all are changing our self for sake of society and we are lying to our own self why? Just in the fear that this fake society accept us so here my friends we do not need thus fake show off world to accept us or tell us what we should become. We are so good who we are. Now we smile when we feel to smile now we cry if we have to and no one will said us to wipe them *"What is someone see you crying"* fuck this world they do not deserve you the good the union you. Peal all those fake faces which you have in the name of society and bring out the real you which deserve the goodness of the world and I promise we all are union from each other. *"Beauty is what you are not which become for someone or something."*
***Author's Note:***
So reader's this is the hush truth about our society I hope you all like and more articles will come next week. Thanks 💋
***My Previous Article:***
Coffee and confessions in 1000 words https://read.cash/@Caroline17/coffee-and-confessions-in-1000-words-16d5cdcc
My Job as a Woman https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-job-as-a-woman-bf254faa
A Parallel of Thrills https://read.cash/@Caroline17/a-parallel-of-thrills-30ec31a8
Was and will be https://read.cash/@Caroline17/was-and-will-be-adc07f8a
Might as well kill myself https://read.cash/@Caroline17/might-as-well-kill-myself-1fb43423
Coffee and confessions in 1000 words
You're not alone. It's okay to vent.
I was sitting at a coffee shop with my friends, we were all writing or our noses were in books/sketchbooks. Screens open and ear-buds in, typing away and sipping drinks. I had a cup of coffee because I didn't get the amount of sleep I wanted scratch that NEEDED to have in order to function. A tap on my shoulder pulled me from my own world and music, I took one off and looked over at the person.
"Can I help you miss?" I asked politely, she scowled at me and there a ping in my stomach that something wasn't right.
"Uh, yes shouldn't there be an adult with you? You shouldn't be drinking coffee and writing, you seem bad at it." My heart shattered as the shop went dead silent.
"I here with my friends, I'm trained in self-defense and the rest are too if not they are black belts. I drink coffee because I don't sleep, because of this thing called insomnia lady. also, I know my writing's crap, I'm no E.B. white so, if you could kindly leave that would be appreciated very much." My friends all had wide eyes at the women and me because they know I'm short and sweet but I will tear someone's ass open anytime. Shit is going down. Most of them thought. This bitch started ranting and shit about us and how writer's are terrible people, telling us that none of us know how hard life is. The cafe was still silent as all hell.
"Lady! Please, just leave for the sake of you, me and all the other people who just wanted a cup of freaking coffee." Kylen said.
"Listen to me brat! Life is hard and you don't know that it is-" I stood up so I was face to face with her.
"How dare you to say that to me, but most importantly us. You have no idea what each of us have been through, so keep your mouth shut before your tongue is laying in front of you, miss." I spat and sat back down. And yet she continued, I stared forward and took a sip of coffee.
"Look at the adult when they speak to you, brats!"
Lead Image: https://pin.it/u9wnc9H
"You really don't want to make her mad, lady." Tiffany warned her while the others nodded with smiles, knowing this was going to be good.
"Oh please, what have all you been through? You got your phones taken away? Or you got grounded?"
"I don't have to look or listen to a so called adult when they are mentally and verbally 5 years old." I said, deadpanning and taking another Sip of coffee. Some people laughed and oohed, others took out there phones to record this. I set my mug down and looked at her dead in the eyes I saw her shiver when I did. I smirked,
"None of us are to tell you what's up with us. That's not your place. Kindly leave please, do, I have to spell it out for you?" Her face turned red with anger as she blew out the final candle on our patience.
"You are all worthless brats who are too young to understand the difficulty of life, especially you!" She yelled as she pointed a some what threatening finger at me. I chuckled to hide my pain.
"First of all tell me something I don't know and also... No one told us we were too young to be put through hell and back, no one told us we were too young to have depression, anxiety, insomnia, self harm issues and suicidal thoughts. CERTAINLY no one told ME that at this age I would be carrying the weight of my past and the world on my skinny shoulders. No one told us we would be stuck with this dragging weight like a chain ball attached to us forever, no one told us that us being this young we would have a lived a dozen lifetime after what we've been through." She opened her mouth to retort, but I was quick with my anger.
"See, this is where you zip it and listen! The next time you think anybody doesn't know how hard life is, think again so you avoid a person who's way wiser than you ripping you apart. Try to make us or anybody feel like they're back in that hell of a past EVER again and I will personally tear you to shreds, lets go guy's" I said as we packed up our things, one person started clapping and everybody was clapping and telling the lady to leave.
"Really? Self-harm and suicide? Please you're joking!" I grabbed my sketchbook and my two friends and I rolled up our selves, scars lay on the skin.
"You think it's a joke? If I wasn't a stranger I'd smack the absolute shit out of you. With my very hands right here, right now."
"Millions of people have mental illnesses, we are some of those people. NEVER, EVER treat it likes it's a joke because depression is more than being sad, insomnia's more than not being able to sleep, anxiety is more than just nervous, low self esteem is more than hating yourself, but being an idiot like you... Seems like there's no cure to that." I spat as we exited. I popped my head back into the cafe,
"And one last thing lady... Karma's a bitch." I sent her a wink as the cafe cheered and we left.
Smiles on all our faces to hide the pain of it all.
**Author's Note:**
This has never happened to me before, I find it away to cope with the words that many people have thrown at me and they don't think it hurts but this is what it feels like... Written I guess. Stay alive** Message if you want/need to, I'm here to any of you. I take request, real or fake. Remember this article is to help cope with this life. Stay safe.
***My Previous Article:***
My job as a woman https://read.cash/@Caroline17/my-job-as-a-woman-bf254faa
A parallel of thrills https://read.cash/@Caroline17/a-parallel-of-thrills-30ec31a8
Was and will be https://read.cash/@Caroline17/was-and-will-be-adc07f8a
Might as well kill myself https://read.cash/@Caroline17/might-as-well-kill-myself-1fb43423
My Job as a Woman
I have always felt safe working at the hotel, one once has it crossed my mind that I was in danger. I knew that if I was behind the counter I was protected, right? Right? Well, I thought so too. I didn't realize, I wasn't protected from the words or hand gestures from guests. I've had a few older gentlemen come down and scream profanities or slam the desk, but that didn't bother me. I was behind the desk, I was fine. Until I wasn't.
Often, the hotel has guests that stay for a month at a time. Most often construction workers or insurance adjusters and the like. There are certain guests in the hotel I know to steer clear. From, although I have never had an issue with the construction workers before, and in fact I enjoyed conversing with them. They told many interesting. Stories about the work they have been doing. One specific worker was always more friendly than the others. I had always presumed that he just needed a friend. He had been there for over a month and was just lonely. He came to the front counter and talked to me often about all sorts of things. His work, his family, and even his favorite foods. The downside: I only ever talked to him when he was drunk. He came in every night stumbling around the hallways. I could always smell it on him when he got inside. I knew there wasn't any harm in this. Well, I thought I knew there wasn't any harm in this.
Lead Image https://pin.it/6pmmFLS
It wasn't until he started making more and more questionable remarks when I realized he was looking for more than just a friend. He started asking me how. Old I was, and if I was in school. Next, He started asking about my work. Schedule. I obviously didn't tell him, but I was very insure as to why he was asking me these things. It was a quiet sunday night when I realized what he wanted.
He approached the front desk, so I left the comfort of the back office to see if he needed help with anything. He asked me for a cup of coffee with two packets of sugar. "Of course!" I respond, happy to be doing my job. I watch him as he pours the sugar into the cup, well half of the sugar in the cup and the other half on my counter. His eyes were bloodshot, I knew he was drunk.
"What do I do with these?" He slurs, gesturing to the sugar packet.
"Oh, I can take them"I said while holding my hand out. He placed them in my hand, and he let his hand caress mine, seemingly touching every inch of skin I have. I threw packets away, feeling confused about what had just happened. I brushed it off as he was drunk. And didn't know. "Let me go grab a rag to clean up that sugar." I Spoke shakily, I escaped to the back and watched the cameras for a second, hoping he would leave. He didn't.
I eventually grab a rag and went back to the counter. I wiped all the sugar off and put the rag back in the bin. When I went back to the front, he gestured to the counter and said. "You missed a spot". Then his hand moved to another spot on the desk. "And here" then his hand crept up his chest and slid under his shirt, over his heart. "And here, If you know what I mean" I was in complete shock. On the inside, I was shaking. On the outside, I let out a nervous chuckle, hoping he would leave. I knew I had to bring up my fiance. I knew that if I told him I was engaged he would leave. Then, I thought of the absurdity in that statement. Even now, I am dumbfounded that in order to stop a grown man from harassing a young female., a boyfriend or husband or fiance has to be involved. Why do men respect other men who aren't even present before respecting a woman who is standing right in front of them?
After a beat of silence, he slurs, "how much more school do you have?" I was reluctant to respond, but I did anyway. "Well, I just started a month ago, so I have all four years left."
"How old are you?"
Before I could stop myself, "I'm 19".
"Damn, you're young." His eyes lit up like a christmas tree. I did not want to know what he was thinking, and I still don't. I knew I had to tell him I was engaged. It was the only way he would leave.
"Yeah, I look a lot older than I am. Me and my fiance both look much older". I saw the way his shoulder drooped a little bit lower. I saw the glisten in his eyes dim. His smirk faded away. I had crushed his hopes and dreams good.
"Oh you are going to be married? That's a big commitment". He looked at his coffee as he whispered.
"Yeah, but I am ready for it. I have known him since I was 8th Grade and he was a freshman, so we've been together a while." Why isn't he leaving. Stop asking me a questions.
"You've been having sex since you were 8th grade?" I was shocked. My jaw dropped. I felt shivers rake through my body.
"Absolutely not. No" all humor was dropped from my tone. I no longer had a smile on my face. How dare this grown adult try and question the sex life of a 13 years old. He immediately apologized and ended up sulking back to his room. I could not believe he said that to me. I still can't stomach the fact that even when I brought up my fiance he wouldn't leave, and it took him asking if I was having sex when I was 13.
In this moment, I felt like many other women who have had experiences similar to mine. I felt scared, vulnerable, small, and most importantly, I felt like a woman. I felt like this was my job as a woman. It was my job to entertain this man and his words. It was my job to make sure I stood there and endured his disgusting comments and gestures. After everything passed, I had thoughts that it was my fault. Did I lead him on? Did I say something to make him think I am available or even interested? I quickly stopped thinking those thoughts. I did nothing wrong. It was not my job to entertain him..
When my co-worker came in, I told her what had happened. I also asked her to walked me out to my car, because I don't feel safe knowing what his intentions were. Her response, "yeah, I'll walk you out. You know, he was drunk. He didn't mean it." A red flag flew directly in front of my face. I replied, "Being drunk doesn't give him an excuse. What he did was wrong and inappropriate." What kind of excuse is that? He was just drunk. He is just lonely. He just wants company. That is not my job. I am here to work. I am here to provide a better future for myself.
The excuses men get for their ridiculous behavior is exhausting. It makes me think that women are supposed to just take whatever gets thrown at them from men, and even women sometimes. When I told my other co-worker, she said the same thing. He was drunk. Just tell him to go back to his room." These excuses remind me of the many rape cases that are in the news, or the questions survivors are asked when they come forward. "Well what were you wearing?", or "Were you drinking?", or "Did you lead him on?" Women are often expected to be little puppets that men can control on any whim, and women are expected to be okay with it.
My experience is nothing compared to what other women have endured. I am grateful I had the safety of the desk to protect me. I am grateful I have a manager that took my situation seriously. I am grateful people believe me, even if they gave me excuses in favor of the man. My job as a woman is to look after myself, and always stay on high alert. When I'm walking alone to my car in the black of night, when I take a little bit too long looking at something in the grocery store and now, even when I am at work.
**Author's Note:**
Have a nice day! 😘 how's your day? Is it good or nah? I am having a good time with my boyfriend right now. 😂😍 share ko lang! By the way, This is just a fiction, thanks for stopping by. ✨❤
***My Previous Article:***
So rich that all the world is just my bedroom https://read.cash/@Caroline17/so-rich-that-all-the-world-is-just-my-bedroom-d62326ea
Might as well kill myself https://read.cash/@Caroline17/might-as-well-kill-myself-1fb43423
Was and will be https://read.cash/@Caroline17/was-and-will-be-adc07f8a
A parallel of thrills https://read.cash/@Caroline17/a-parallel-of-thrills-30ec31a8
A Parallel of Thrills
At first, I didn't know exactly what I was getting myself into. This was all a lot bigger than me. It was a lot bigger than I imagined. It was too late now, though. I had been dragged into it. There was no turning back.
It started with a sudden jerk forward I drew a deep breathe, anxious as to what lay ahead of me. Looking back over my shoulder, I could see at least a dozen people accompanying me. They all seemed to be enjoying the moment. It was as if they were happy to see my pain. Happy to see my misfortune.
There was a slight breeze. It was cold against my face. Goosebumps began to thrive up and down both my arms. My heartbeat was gradually increasing, anticipating something to go horribly wrong. But all I could do was wait I had no control over what was laid out ahead of me.
Two men were positioned in front of me, everyone else followed suit in their wake. Their facial expressions were misleading. I didn't feel how they felt at all. I was the only one under stress.
"What have I got myself into?" I said out loud. No one responded they were all too busy enjoying the view. We were now progressing up a hill with a beautiful sunset painted along the horizon. The late august sky was a brilliant shade of orange mixed with a splatter of yellow and purple.
The hill was tall. It was intimidating. It was clawing it's way against my courage. But I tried to fight it. It truly was a fight for the ages. My nerves joined forces with the hill's mighty appearance. They turned against me. I was all alone.
"Oh, this can't be happening."
Once again, everyone ignored me. They didn't care for my pain. I just wanted it to be over. It's been a long day. Butterflies were roosting in my stomach leading up to this moment. I felt sick. My heart sunk; we reached the top.
I didn't even have time to enjoy the view from the crest of the hill. It all happened too quickly. I closed my eyes immediately. I didn't want to see it. I knew it would frighten me. It was too surreal.
High pitch screams erupted through the crisp air. I nearly jumped out of my own skin. Everything was happening so fast. Every hair on my body stood on end, like troops standing at attention. It was a scary feeling. My body couldn't handle it. It was overwhelming.
I opened my eye to sneak a peak at what was going on, but closed it again instantly. My stomach was dropping. Sweat was pouring down my forehead like a never ending waterfall. My mind was a blur, shaking in each and every direction.
I should never have gotten myself into this mess. But I was in too deep, now. We were heading straight into the unknown. A tunnel lay before us. It was times like these where I wish I wasn't claustrophobic. I held my breath as we entered.
The sunlight evaporated in a flash. Everything went black. Darkness consumed us. I considered closing my eyes again, but I couldn't see anything with them open.. Now devoid of light. I didn't know what to expect.
The tunnel was suddenly filled with more screams. They came from behind me. I swung my head around to find the noise, but something pushed me to the left, catching me off-guard. I couldn't see what happened or who pushed me, but the time had passed. We kept moving forward, further and further into the shadows.
My fingers were shaking. I couldn't see them when I looked down, but it felt as if they could trigger an earthquake. I wanted to give into my fears, but I knew the darkness wouldn't fade. It showed no mercy. It seemed to laugh at my frightened mindset.
But then a small white dot appeared. A light emerged. It was the end of the tunnel. We were getting closer. My claustrophobic mind was begging for time to speed up. I wanted this to end. I shouldn't have accepted to do this. This was all a mistake.
The light at the end of the tunnel finally reached us. We were free from darkness. The world came back into view. The sun had now descended beneath the horizon, leaving its last few glimmers of gold along the valley. Night was upon us.
"Here comes the best part!" Cackled the man in front of me, turning around and seeing the fear in my eyes. He could see my pain, but he didn't care.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but the words were trapped in my throat. They couldn't find an escape. I didn't believe him. I didn't want to believe him. But then I saw it. A massive circular structure lay ahead of us.
The sight of it was nearly enough to make me faint. Torches were lit all along the edge of it, creating a large, fiery nightmare. Surely I wouldn't be making it out alive.
I squeezed my eyelids shut as we drew closer, the massive circle towering over us. My stomach dropped once more as we reached it and more screams filled the darkening air. My brain felt as if it was going to cease to exist.
Then everything came to an abrupt halt. It came so unexpected, my eyes were still closed, my body still tensed up. The two men in front of me and everyone behind me stood up and walked away.They abandoned me, after all we've been through.
"Sir, you can get out now," said a voice.
"What?" I said, opening my eyes.
"The ride's over," said a teenage boy, looking bored. Thanks for riding The Rainbow Rocket Coaster, have a great night."
I disembarked the roller coaster and headed for the amusement park's exit, a smile painted across my face.
**Author's Note:**
Hi,
This is a fiction story. I hope you like it. 😁 I would like to give a special thank you to all my sponsors and to all those person who upvote and like my article😁 love you all darlings. ✨❤
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**My Previous Article**
Was and will be https://read.cash/@Caroline17/was-and-will-be-adc07f8a
Might as well kill myself https://read.cash/@Caroline17/might-as-well-kill-myself-1fb43423
So rich that all the world is just my bedroom https://read.cash/@Caroline17/so-rich-that-all-the-world-is-just-my-bedroom-d62326ea
Fear/Less: A Personal Memoir https://read.cash/@Caroline17/fearless-a-personal-memoir-08f52fbf
Algebra Catastrophes https://read.cash/@Caroline17/algebra-catastrophes-cc4586db
Was and will be
"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest lost is what dies inside us while we live."
She I remember once, was truly happy. She would wake up with the brightest beaming smile, and hug each of her family early every morning. She was so optimistic, she believed that there is nothing she can't do. That there's a first time for everything. That when all can be taught, all can be learned.
She could always get through everything you can imagine thrown at her. Foresee and live by the brightest perspective. Appreciate all that she's given. Shares what she has. And was just the sunshine and shoulder that her family and friends could always lean on.
But then, unfortunately suddenly she died. She burned out. Lost her sparks her enthusiasm, faded. Her shine dulled.
Maybe she got tired. Too tired killed by society. But I promised her, she will still be cherished.
I loved her I still do. Her end crushed my soul. She was always there to care, to help, to love, to calm, and to comfort me. All those days when I wanted to be lonesome, she insisted to keep me company. She was all I had. and now, with her passing I have no idea what to do anymore.
But I learned that those we love can never be more than a thought away, for as long as there's a memory they live in our hearts to stay. Ahh memories.... let them fill your mind, warm your heart, and lead you through.
We all witnessed her loveliness. And I believe that what is lovely never dies, but passes into another loveliness. What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose; all that we deeply love becomes a part of us.
To whoever she is now, I know that she's near. Here, beside me, and in my heart. Thank you for everything for all those times you stood by me. For all the things that you made me see. For all the joy you brought to my life. For the inspiration you have been to everyone who knew you. For all the strength when I was weak. For everything you taught me. For all the encouragement and for molding me stronger, tougher, more honest to myself, and definitely more beautiful.
I promise you that I will carry on. For that is what you have wanted.
Sometimes, you kind of have to die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself, and love yourself to become a new person. It takes courage... to endure the sharp pains of self discovery rather than choose to take the dull pain of unconsciousness that would last the rest of our lives.
People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself but, the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates. And I have yet to recreate mine again. Only this time, bolder.
She was indeed great. But now, she is greater.
A spirit of the past. A distant memory. An amazing legacy.
She was I and she will be missed.
Author's Note:
Hello.,
Thank you for giving this article a chance to meet you! Will always be forever grateful for this moment.
Hope you enjoy them as much as I did while writing them!
It would be my pleasure to meet you, I wish for your greatest desires to be granted, thank you for stopping by darling. Hahahaha✨❤
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**My Previous Article**
Might as well kill myself https://read.cash/@Caroline17/might-as-well-kill-myself-1fb43423
So rich that all the world is just my bedroom https://read.cash/@Caroline17/so-rich-that-all-the-world-is-just-my-bedroom-d62326ea
Fear/Less: A Personal Memoir https://read.cash/@Caroline17/fearless-a-personal-memoir-08f52fbf
Algebra Catastrophes https://read.cash/@Caroline17/algebra-catastrophes-cc4586db
Might as well kill myself
Red is a very attractive color, don't you think? Do you like the color red? The red of roses, of lava, of snow whites lips--- of blood. Everybody does. But if you think that us, students, like the color red well then, think again.
Cards day, Awarding of Honors Ceremony. All are glittering with smiles. Spreading hugs and handshakes of ***"Congratulations!"*** Old and young gathered cheerfully, praising accomplishments. While me? My old folks are as real as unicorns and that pot of gold at the end of any rainbow. Nowhere to be found. Perhaps... perhaps my sister caught all their attention again she was always the only star on their stage. The sun that brightens up their sky. Again and again, so alone, so lonely, with nothing but the wind behind me, I step up and face my fear. And as I open my card, my eyes laid on the very color I loathe.
Red
If the color red was music, people would hear love, romance, power and individuality. With a change of its tune, red can also be anger, hate and alarm. But as I gaze at the color, I tremble. Icy beads ran like rivers on my skin for that Godforsaken color, in my family, means many, many more disappointment. The cold shoulder and worse? A trip to the Museum of Knives. Where you can do nothing but appreciate all they have to say about what a failure you are. i couldn't stand for myself as they breathed fire at me saying, ***"Be more like your sister." "She is a beauty, has the brains, the heart, and is everything that you are not."*** Oh, that heart shattering comparison will I be able to hear that for the rest of my life?
Standing there, with my head hung low, I accepted all that I was seeing. Absorbed all that I was hearing. And drowned in all that I was feeling. No matter how hard I try, those words, those actions, those---knives, pierced through my heart and soul that even the strongest metal in the world vibranium, couldn't have stopped them.
So I killed myself.
While questioning my entire existence, if I was even worth it, if I was ever enough, if any of what I did even mattered to them.
I killed myself. But not by hanging. Nor by poisoning, or slicing my wrists, or jumping off a tall building, but by surrounding myself with positivity.
I killed myself with so much love and appreciation for my being. Taking my inspirations to heart, I now have learned that only I decide my fate and how I want to be remembered by.
***"I am enough. I am so enough. It's unbelievable how enough I am"***
Now, the red things that I love the most are the small heart cut outs that my children (students) give to me on my every birthday (teacher's day).
Red is indeed a very attractive color.
*Our coach once said that a feature writer and his writing are one. What a writer writes is either his experiences or his perceptions. Topics were then given where we are to choose from as the subject for our article.*
*Suicide Depression Competition and its Effects my choice was a bright as day then the clock started ticking. Half of it jogged by and my paper was still blank. How I hated that, that unofficial writer's block. Half the sand in the hourglass, I declared war. I pick up my sword and slaughtered my way in. Blood was beginning to shower. I rushed my pace no time to check what came to mind, wrote. What came to mind, I hated. I hated it the feeling from comparison of being compared. Much more when whom they equate you with has not summed up to even a quarter of who you really are. It shocked me. I had handled the actual situation long ago calmly, responsibly, maturely. Though my subconscious begged otherwise.*
*Epiphany a sudden revelation that was an epiphany until then, I had no idea how significant that situation can be for other people. Little did I know, others had worn my shoes too. And walked on the same road for those shoes to be threadbare. And I believe that you should do the same. When people try to harm you, use their own weapon against them. But not in the way they did, nor in the way they expect. Use it wisely. Like how wise you are kill them with kindness. And that kindness is by killing yourself. For the better. For yourself to be your best.*
***Author's Note:***
**Might as well kill myself** was born during my school's 2016 journalistic writing competition in feature category.
The circumstances were purely fictional.
My parents are fair, just and understanding unlike those in the article, they accept us for who we are and push as to be better but only in ways we are comfortable with.
My siblings and I love each other. And there's no room for envy as our house is already full as it is.
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**My Previous Article:**
Algebra Catastrophes https://read.cash/@Caroline17/algebra-catastrophes-cc4586db
Fear/Less: A Personal Memoir https://read.cash/@Caroline17/fearless-a-personal-memoir-08f52fbf
So rich that all the world is just my bedroom https://read.cash/@Caroline17/so-rich-that-all-the-world-is-just-my-bedroom-d62326ea
So rich that all the world is just my bedroom
***I am so rich.***
I dine out for bottles of bubbles with friends all the time. I can even go and sleep whenever and wherever I want. This life of mine is all fun and luxury. Being so famous, my name is Ablaze and with the whole world's curiosity buzzing, everybody's looking for me... including the police.
My life rocks, I can sleep in without a problem, go on late night outs with friends doing whatnots, and get everything I want.
***"Sister, you're home early,"*** said my little sister, sparkling her eyes at me. ***"I'm hungry. I want fri--"***
***"Fried chicken and Ice cream?"*** I cut her off, knowing what she's always been craving for and gave them to her. She was so happy, she hugged me squealing. Smiling so wide from ear to ear that I was afraid her face would rip apart any moment.
By the way, I fell in love with a very fancy watch earlier at an auction. It's golden body was begging to be worn. It's embedded diamonds were calling me... I wanted it.
So, what did I do?
I took it.
Everything I want, I get.
Suddenly knocks poured on our front door. Who could that be? Paparazzi? Nobody else knows our location. I kept it that way. Confidential, for security purposes.
The knocks were still persistent until the door burst open and I was greeted with two gruff men in blue. They towered over me. I know moments like this all too well. And in a blink of an eye, I was snatched out of our mansion. Into a siren car. Into a prison cell.
***"Officers wait! My poor little sister is all alone in our mansion. And I think I left my lamborghini on with it's car keys still in the ignition."*** As I stretched my hand beyond the bars, an officer looked me up and down. With a smug smirk on his face and an amused glint in his eyes--wait, what else is that I see? Pity? Disgust? He barked saying,
***"Shut up, street rat. Stop dreaming."***
Street rat. Very very familiar. I have been called by many names. I have heard that many times. And it happens to be my personal favorite. I chuckled dryly.
Street rat. Yes, I am one.
I could not even fathom how they managed to come up with such name. To correlate and connect such terms together. A normal human being with a mind, a heart, and a soul associated with a rodent, the dirtiest of them all. All cramped into a compound word.
How creative of them.
And how heartless.
The world is my bedroom, yes. For I have no home. Nowhere else to go. And yet you who are provided a house, a home desires freedom away from it. I go out with friends everyday, yes. Begging for something to eat. Yet you who are serve plates by your mothers still crave for more, choose your food, reject those you don't want and throw away the rest.
Some do not have the luxury of food.
Others don't even have mothers.
And we lack both.
Thank you though, those food you throw away, in one way or another, are gifts to us. Blessings though it would have been much helpful if you decided to offer it directly rather than watch us search trash bins for them. But nonetheless, were still thankful.
At night, either we stay awake or seek for a place to spend it in. Only to get scolded for trespassing even though the park is a public place or battered for being hardheaded and disobedient. Or discriminated because of our state. Eventually, we are still your equals. Maybe you have forgotten but we also have beautiful and creative minds, loving and caring hearts, and maybe the purest souls. Apart from the stealing we are forced by fate to do for survival.
I'm sorry... I'm not even the one who wrote this. I never had the chance to learn how. But can I ask you a favor? The next time you see me, think about how comfortable your life is. Think about how loved you are by your family. Especially your parents. I never knew mine. Thank them for it. Thank them for everything. Thank them for me, Please.
Promise me then that you will always be grateful with all that you are given. Don't take for granted ever again the food on your table, the roof on your head, the bed in which you sleep, and the people around you.
But I did not lie. I truly am rich. In dreams, in hope. I wanted more. But I needed help. People treat us as if we wanted our lives to turn out this way. Who does? Who did?
I have all the will and the determination to be more, yet, just by facades, you deem us ***disgusting*** and ***dumb***. And also maybe, ***unworthy of your help.*** But if I were truly wealthy, I'd be sure to help those in need like me.
Here I am. So rich in mind, in heart and in spirit but neglected by the society.
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***Author's Note:***
Good afternoon readers! 😊 thank you for upvoting and reading my articles. 😁 I hope you like this one. 😘 enjoy! ❤
**My Previous Article:**
**Algebra Catastrophes** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/algebra-catastrophes-cc4586db
**Fear/Less: A Personal Memoir** https://read.cash/@Caroline17/fearless-a-personal-memoir-08f52fbf
Fear/Less: A personal Memoir
It was a warm September evening, one that I had come to love because it allowed for me to sweat more when I took my evening walks on the treadmill my grandparents had in the garage. I could smell the oil burning off the engine of my uncles truck as he headed off to work. Currently I was living with seven other people in a small three bed one bath house in the dead center of Pasadena. My grandparents house was now the community shelter that their kids flocked to when in need. My mom was working through a third divorce, my uncle suffering through his first and my grandparents worked to make sure the transition was as easy as possible for them.
Along with my uncle came his two children, my cousins, Teighlor and Hunter. Teighlor was only six months younger than me and often looked up to me as her older sister rather than her best friend; and Hunter was only a year older than my brother who had just turned four. That night was a typical school night dinner in the Hudspeth house, a hearty meal and small talk before the family split off for their own nightly activities. My grandparents retired to the living room where my grandfather would watch the news and my grandmother would crossed stitch, my uncle took my cousins to see their mom as it was her respected date and my own mother kept to the dinner table to play catch up on the work she had missed during court hearings. I took this time to escape to the garage, with my brother waddling behind me on his pudgy toddler feet.
Once the door was closed I started my daily routine: sit Andrew on the floor a few feet away from the machine so I could watch him play as I walked, secure my shoes to my feet, and pray to God that I wouldn't cry this time. Since my mom decided to leave my brothers dad, her anger and verbal attacks on me became a daily routine. Her favorite subject, my weight. Being only 9 years old I still had a good amount of baby fat left one me, I had a good diet, and I loved being outside during recess to play in the annual game of tag. However, my mothers verbal abuse was enough to make me want to be like the girls I envied so dearly. The ones who didn't have to wear a training bra yet, and who's jeans could still be found in the kids section at GAP, compared to the junior sized jeans I stuffed myself into everyday.
So I mounted the machine, ready for the tedious task ahead of me, and began my daily mile. I never went to fast, only about three miles an hour so I could still maintain a rhythmic heartbeat. During my hour I listened to my brother babble to his toy soldiers, the mechanical whirl of the gears pulling the mat beneath it, and the slight pant that would break from my chapped lips. Yet this evening would end like none of the others had, and I never thought my life would be forever altered by a long walk towards a better figure. My palms were sweaty but I was happy, the calorie counter read 300 and that meant I have three hundred calories closure to my goal. Now, this next part is still and will probably always be a blur to me. I reached for the glowing red stop button, eager to tell my mom of my accomplishment so she would as proud of me as I was myself, but my hand missed.
The sweat gathered on my palms pushed my hand towards the speed section and suddenly I was thrown into the wall behind me. The space between the end of the treadmill and the opposite wall was only a few inches apart, successfully trapping me between the rubber mat that was now going a total of ten miles per hour. I remember pulling my lips into my mouth because if my face was going to burn, my lips would be safe. Minutes later my mom came running into the garage and pulled me off the machine by my arm, and all but dragged me into the living room before backtracking and grabbing my brother. She had heard my brother screaming, I can't remember his screams, just the glassy tears that filled his eyes in fear. Upon inspection of my body it was clear I needed to go to the hospital, my grandfather stayed home and my grandmother drove us.
I was fascinated with my hands. The burns had created giant blisters on my palms from where I attempted to push myself up and off of the mat, chunks of skin were hanging off in agony. Everyone looked at me in pity, no matter where I went. The nurses cooed sympathetically, the doctors whispered in hushed tones so I couldn't hear the trauma I had caused my body. My grandmother didn't leave my side until my dad and stepmom walked into my room, my mother ignored them and continued to coddle Andrew. Everything's better with my dad around. He always knows how to calm my anxiety, in this situation it was oreos from the vending machine outside my room. It wasn't until midnight that I was finally able to move into a private room in the burn center. After another agonizing hour of being poked and prodded I was finally told our plan of action.
I suffered third degree burns on my hands, forearms, both legs, and my ankles. My cheeks and chin had nasty second degree burns that required a fishy smelling ointment to be slathered on it hourly to keep them from scaring. However, the rest of my body was less than lucky. The next morning I was scheduled for surgery; my burns needs skin grafts in order to properly heal. I was never afraid. Hospitals were calming to me. The cleanliness, the constant attention from the attending nurses and the casual guest, not to mention the gifts I got from friends and family. The next morning I was brought into the operating room with my hello kitty doll wedge into the crook of my elbow. The last memory I have before the anesthesia pulled me under was the image of my doll falling to the floor and a dull burning in the back of my throat.
When I awoke my dad had gone to work, leaving me with my mom. My arms and legs had been wrapped in layers of gauge and bandages and everything hurt. And it never stopped hurting. Because if the pain wasn't from the burns themselves, it was from the emotional pain they caused me. I was released a week later. My doctor made it a point to stress how important it was for me to always have a hat on, and to be covered from head to toe when going outside; if I didn't the burns would scar and my face would have harsh red stripes painted across it. This led to a perpetual fear of the sun. Instead of recess I spent my afternoons in the library, helping shelf lone books and checking in the large stacks that loomed over the desk. And when my family enjoyed evening dinner in the sun, I stayed inside the screen door locked away from the fun. School was no longer my safe haven, rather yet another place I wanted to hide from.
What I didn't know at this time was that my accident was really a miracle in disguise. Although I lost my freedom, and my insecurities still ate away at me, I was able to learn new things about myself that I had never saw before. I learned that my true friends were those who stayed with me while I healed, I learned that I loved to bake more than I loved riding my bike around the neighborhood, and I learned that my grandparents weren't as boring as they let on. Without this accident I would have lost these moments that I have come to love. And even once I was healed, and the bandages came off, I continued to help in the library, and to bake, and have those long talks with my grandparents after dinner. I may still fear the sunlight, and yes, treadmills still give me anxiety; but I would go through it all over again if it meant that I would get to keep these lessons learned. I am not defined by my scars, rather my scars are a roadmap of my past and are my hope for the future.
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Author's Corner:
Good day everybody! This article is half fiction and half fiction. 😊 wala lang hinati ko lang po hahaha😂 thanks to those who upvote and read my article. ❤😍
Algebra Catastrophes
I'm a sophomore in high school and homeschooled, but this story takes place in freshman year and in a public school I went to. Let's get this clear, I hate, math. Like a huge passion of hate for math. And I remember clear as day.
It was about a week after the semester finals and we had gotten our individual tests that was used as a bench mark for it. As well as our semester report card. Our teacher, who we will call Mrs. Smith- had given us an exercise for the class.
Now do keep in mind, no one in this class like me, absolutely no one. Even people who I considered my "friends" didn't help stand up against some bullies... However, this day was quite an interesting one.
The teacher assigned us partners to work with. No one of course, wanted to be teamed up with me. However, in an ironically movie like way, I was teamed up with one of the rather... more well known students, for his athletic quarter back charms and smarts. When of course our name was called to teamed up to each other everyone was completely silent and I felt all the eyes on me. I had my head down and tensely clenched my hands.
To my shock, he was rather kind to me. Now this boy, I'll call him Mark for this I've known of him since elementary. Ya know, you got the people you know, you've talked to, and those you've seen around. He had walked up to my desk and greeted me with a smile. It seemed probably harmless to others, but to me, I was terrified. Only mockers and rude people flashed me such kind smiles.
The first thing he asked, was what I had gotten for my final exam. Shyly I showed I had gotten an 86. He looked at me with surprise and almost a supportive smile. He admitted to getting a 72. I also apparently, gotten one of the highest scores in the class. That however, didn't matter.
Everyone around us were muttering, saying how he was going to fail because of me, which made me extremely nervous. However, we had finished all of the questions first. And of course followed by snickers and comments on how he either did all the work, or how we got all the ones I did wrong. He did defend me when he heard the mutters, which gave me a but of calmness.
Since we had A and B days, we went to algebra every other day, so once the second day time of a day came. The teacher had awoken one of my greatest school fears.
We had to go up to the class, and solve a question from the quiz. Now, I had gotten all the questions down and knew how to solve all, except one that was quite difficult. At first we were able to pick the questions we could Work on, but then the teacher changed her mind and assigned them to us. And of course, this story wouldn't be important without the irony to her decision! So we had, the most difficult question.
Since Mark was a pretty nice guy, he said he'd say what to write and I would just write. It made me a lot less nervous. But going up there, the mocking and snickers only revived those nerves. I even remember how the marker shook in my hand. He had told me what to write, my nerves soon took over and I had gotten so petrified in Anxiety. I had forgotten how to write a formula. I lost focus, and everyone was laughing. The only ones supporting me was Mark and Mrs. Smith who nodded and reassured me the best they could.
At the end of it, I was able to complete it of course with streaming tears that were invisible from the projector's light. I wiped them away before anyone could notice as I sat down.
Those kids, of course taunted me everyday until the last day of school. Which wasn't long after since I had gotten in trouble the last month of school.
As I said, I am a sophomore now, and was actually recently homeschooled, public school was never my style. But, I have gotten more confident since I stay home now. I sadly never got to thank Mark and Mrs. Smith for being kind to me.
But I will say this proudly, during the time I was in school during this year, I had some classes with my bullies. They would sit silently stunned as I showed that I wasn't a complete idiot.
We had World History and Geometry together, which both teachers took a liking in me,complementing me and recommending me to debate team and Advanced classes.
Moral of the story, it is true what they say, one day you'll prove those people who hurt you wrong.
Stay strong my introverted butter flies, for you are almost there.!!
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Author's Note: Kudos to those person who liked and enjoyed my articles 😊❤ thank you so much 😍❤ love you all guys. More power to us! Happy bermonths. 😘
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Reversing Infinity: Part III (Finale)
Rover's eyes widened. That voice in his head also spoken outside his head just moments before. Now he knew who it belonged to at the start. But how? How could an older version of Insect have been talking to him before he even met the younger version?
"How about,"the older Insect began, "I tell you everything--like you asked--and you just sit there and listen? You look like you could use some rest from thinking too hard. Your head might just pop," he added with a chuckle.
"Alright," said Rover, unsheathing his curiosity and practically holding it in front of him.
"It begins, like many stories do, with love. A young boy and a young girl-whose names I'll share in just a moment--were perfect for each other. They were, as people tend to say, a match made in heaven. But you know, or perhaps you don't you due to your short life, that there will be times when love can get torn apart. It may have seemed like true love, but not everything is made of solid steel. Even mighty mountains can be eroded by a tiny stream of water over time. This young boy and this young girl grew older together and got married. But that's when tragedy struck.
"It was an accident that was so..
Unexpected. The young girl, or rather the now-married wife, was the victim of a shark attack. You know what, I guess I should just get to the point and say that the young boy turned married man in this story is me. The one who died was my wife. For our honeymoon, I decided on going to Australia New South Wales to be exact and learning to surf with her big mistake in retrospect. We lived in Northern California and she wanted to stay a reasonable distance from home. By that I mean she wanted to visit a placed called Tofino on the Coast of Vancouver Island in Canada. Apparently you can surf in Canada who knew, right? She said she wouldn't mind the colder weather up there but I insisted on going somewhere exotic. Anyway, she succumbed most unexpectedly and of course I could only blame myself."
"That's not your fault." Said Rover.
"It was," echoed older Insect's voice. "But let me explain why'd you're involve in this. As you may have noticed, I am currently in a research facility. Ever since that day the twenty first of june I have been working on a way to bring her back. Now, before you call me crazy for attempting to reverse the effects of death, let me elaborate."
"Dose this have to do with my future determining the past?" Said Rover quickly, before older Insect could continue.
"Ah, about that. To a degree, yes. However, when I was putting that thought into your head, the "past" I was referring to wasn't your past. It was my past, I created you, Rover, to fulfill a mission for me. You were my ace in the deck. You know that you are unlike any other when it comes to time. But what you do not know is that you only exist inside this research facility. I constructed an intricate simulation that would allow you, an artificial intelligence, to alter the course of my past. I introduced you to a younger version of myself and your perseverance gave that younger version the courage to push forward and meet Madison. Then, once you two officially met her, I created something so Malevolent that you wouldn't dare go near Madison ever again. If I could Steer you clear from her path, with the minimum being a formal introduction between us, I could change the past so she wouldn't have gotten married to me."
"Married to you?" Said Rover, consumed by confusion. "You mean you married Madison!?"
"Indeed. And I have forgotten to tell you my real name. Arturo Albany, pleasure to have worked with you."
''Yeah, yeah, a pleasure," said Rover, waving his hand through the air in front of him. "But how does this simulation work? In terms of decoding the laws of time, I mean."
"You see the button here," said Arturo, picking up the camera in which he was talking into. He moved it so Rover could feast his eyes upon a cartoonishly-red button labelled Reverse Infinity. "Now that you've completed the requirements, I can push this button and it will activate. From there, a new timeline will be established and Madison will never have perished in Australia"
"Well, then how would you ever find her again?"
"It won't be too hard, I imagine. I'll travel north to Tofino. Madison always said she wanted to learn to surf on the first day of summer when the sun is up extra long. I'll spend every june twenty first waiting there. I'll find her again, Rover trust in that."
Rover suddenly grew angry. His bloodstream began to boil. "You invented a way to reverse the effects of time and this is what you've chosen to change?!"
"Of course," said Arturo
"What about going back and preventing that house fire?!"
Arturo looked displeased. "Though my family's deaths were tragic, that was a crucial ingredient in my independence. I don't think I could ever invest my love in someone like Madison if my family was still breathing down my neck every day. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make."
"Madison was that special to you?"
"Madison was more special than anyone, Rover. More importantly, her love was more special than anyone's funny thing about love, though. It's like the horizon-you never stop chasing it. Goodbye Rover... and thanks a million."
And with that, Arturo pressed the red button, throwing everything, including time itself, into one big supernova of light.
"That is the end of my offering," I said, bowing my head slightly. "That is my hypothetical way of you reincarnating me." For a moment there was nothing but silence and darkness. It was as if someone (or something) was pondering their choice of words. I grew restless waiting for any form of answer. Was my offering successful? Would I be granted the prize?
"I appreciate the offering, Madison," spoke a low and cold voice. It seemed to come from all around me, as if there was not one mouth but thousands creating a full 360 degrees around me.
"And have you made a decision?" I asked nervously into the dark.
"I have Madison." A pair of red eyes revealed themselves in front of me, their glare seemingly able to pierce through my soul. "Your offering has proved to be more viable than any other soul here. It was very clever, having someone create artificial intelligence inside a simulation to alter the past. Quite ingenious." "Th-thank you, Death," I said, my hopes accelerating like a space- bound rocket. "Do not thank me yet," echoed Death's sinister voice from every angle. "I still need time to put things into action." The red eyes disappeared. I didn't dare speak my thoughts aloud. Death could easily be listening intently. He's been known for playing tricks. Instead, I stuck to the inner workings of my mind, finding safety from eavesdropping. Could I have really won the prize of reincarnation? Is Death really going to select my offering? like Death said, my offering was definitely the most viable compared to every other deceased soul here. Mine was the most sophisticated. No one else offered ideas of creating artificial intelligence to alter the events of the past and ultimately rewrite history. If Death accepted my offering, I could be reincarnated. Chills crept up my arms and spiralled down my spine.
Then Death returned, or rather the two intimidating red orbs with vertical black slits for pupils. When it spoke, it was like being sucker punched from all sides simultaneously. "Consider yourself a lucky soul, Madison. Among the dozens of souls that you competed against, your offering has been chosen. Your method of time alteration is ingenious. I have concocted a way for you to return to your life back on earth." "Thank you Death," I found myself saying. I was at a loss for words and couldn't think of anything better to say.
"Go forth towards the light, Madison. There you will return to your life where your loving husband, Arturo awaits." A speck of light emerged from the darkness. Death's red eyes fizzled out of sight and I could see a bright white staircase ascending high into the unknown. Was this my ticket back to earth? There was only one way to find out.
Atop the staircase awaited a large, golden gate that was shimmering so bright I had to shield my eyes. Through the pristine vertical bars I could see a few figures cloaked in white,small rings of gold encompassing their crowns, large feathery protrusions on their backs. I was in heaven. Hung crookedly on the gate was a wooden sign with three words scribbled in blood-red lettering: HA HA HA
If there's one thing I've learned about Death, it's that he always has tricks up his sleeves. He was truly the joker in the deck, the one card you didn't want to mess with, the one you wished never existed in the first place to reverse infinity? Well, apparently not. Your subconscious may think it's possible, but in retrospect it now seems pretty clear that reversing something that's irreversible is a lost cause. You may find yourself in possession of a royal flush, ready to trump everyone else's hands, but when you come across the joker, even our comprehension of rules becomes shuttered.
Note to self: When you face Death head on, the bigger you are, or the bigger he makes you feel, the harder you fall.
But a more important note to self: Love, like life itself, is like the horizon-you never stop chasing it.
**Author's Note**:
Hello everyone, I'm back! 😁 It's been 1 week when I wrote my last article. This is it, my last part of Reversing Infinity I hope you enjoyed it❤😊 thanks to those people who enjoyed my articles love yah❤😊
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Reversing Infinity: Part II
Fear spread through both Rover and Insect like a scattering bolt of lightning. The air around them seemed to coalesce with an icy chill that came from nowhere. The creature moved closer, each muscular step creating large divots in the dead grass. Rover's legs felt like dead. Insect's legs couldn't support him, and he collapsed to the ground.
"Malevolence!" Said Madison, walking away from the swing set. "Meet my new friends."
Malevolence emitted a nasty snarl, as if saying he was the only friend Madison will ever have. Rover and Insect seemed to understand and were already scrambling backwards to safety.
"Don't mind us," said Insect, finding his way back to his feet. "We'll just be on our way. Clearly this thing wants to protect you." Then, like a mental sucker punch, Rover remembered one of the thoughts from earlier. This must've been the malevolent creature the voice was referring to, and clearly what it was guarding was Madison herself. He was just about to make a run for it when a brand new thought, all shiny and fresh, took centre stage in his mind. Rover couldn't even comprehend the thought long enough before speaking his mind. He turned to Madison.
"What are your thoughts on surfing?" He asked.
Insect looked at him as if he was crazy, but Madison looked intrigued. "Surfing?" She said, her brow furrowing.
Malevolence still crept closer, its long black tongues acting as extra legs propelling itself forward.
"Would you ever try it?" Said Rover, slowly backing away from the scene, but trying to remain close enough to Madison to have a conversation.
"I've never really thought about it," Madison began "but I guess so. It would have to be in the summer, though. That's like, totally the best season of the year. Maybe, like, I could one day go on the first day of summer. Yeah, the longest day of the year when the sun is up extra long!"
Rover smiled, though he wasn't sure why. Grabbing Insect's arm, Rover pulled him to an upright stance. Then the two ran as swiftly as their leaden legs could carry, madison and Malevolence slowly dissapearing from view.
"See you never!" Shouted Rover over his shoulder. "And maybe try finding friends who are actually human, like my friend Insect! It might help!"
The eerie playground setting vanished. Madison and Malevolence vanished. Darkness returned all around them, enveloping them in nothingness.
A few moments had passed and a light switched on, nearly half as bright as the light at the beginning. Rover glanced over his shoulder to check on Insect, but he had vanished as well. Rover was all alone. He began to pant. He began to panic.
"You have done exactly what I had planned," said a loud voice echoing all around.
"Who said that?" Shouted Rover, spinning around to find the voice's source. It sounded a little familiar, but Rover could only recall meeting two humans across his journey. The voice belonged to a man so Madison was out of the question and it sounded too old to be Insect. Rover was drawing a blank.
"Your creator, of course," said the voice, sounding calm.
Rover was overcome with a frozen shock. Was this voice some omnipotent being? Di it create Rover and everything else around him? Did it create life as a whole? Perhaps it was omniscient too. Perhaps it had what Rover had been looking for all this time. Perhaps it had an explanation for everything.
"Don't worry too much," said the voice, as if noticing Rover's expression. "I can imagine you have a number of unanswered questions."
Rover Transfered his shock into a cautious pause before speaking. "And do you have those answers?"
"I do, Indeed. "
"Share them!" Rover demanded. His heart was thumping faster than any speedometer would be capable of measuring. His legs felt as if little pinpricks were feasting upon his skin. If this was the anticipated moment of revelation, Rover was ready.
"I shall", said the voice. "But know this: I'm only explaining it to you because you've been successful thus far."
"Reveal yourself first!"
"Ah, so you don't recognize my voice. Hmmm-unfortunate. I thought you would've been able to put the puzzle together"
"I said reveal yourself," said Rover, feeling that if he waited any longer his emotions would overflow.
"Very well. As a warning though, it may come as a bit of a shock, seeing as you haven't figure it out."
Rover's nostrils flared. Impatience was something he was unfamiliar with. Before long he decisively came to the conclusion that he didn't enjoy having to wait. If answers were what he was promised, then answers he shall receive.
Taking up half of Rover's entire field og view appeared a screen. Occupying the entire horizon, this screen shone brightly into the blackened wilderness in which Rover had temporarily called home. It was like being in a movie theatre, only the movie screen stretched from as far as you could see leftward to as far as you could see rightward. A man appeared on the screen wearing a white lab coat.
"Better?" Said the voice, which Rover could now identify belonging to the man before him. The man looked to be in his forties and wore a pair of safety glasses that surrounded his blue eyes. On the back wall behind him-which was White like his lab-coat. Were shelves of test tubes and graduated cylinders. On the desk beside the man was a clipboard which consisted of a long list of blurry words, some crossed out with a red marker and others cicled. The man, just like his voice, was strikingly familiar. If it weren't for the man's most distinctive feature on his face, Rover might've never guessed who he was; it caught Rover's eye fairly quickly. The man had a scar above his left eye, just visible above the safety glasses frame.
"Insect," said Rover breathlessly.
"I always knew you were at least somewhat intelligent," said the man, smiling.
"I think it's safe to say you're surprised out of your mind."
"It's really you?"
"It's really me."
Rover's accelerated heartbeat subsided. The chills that rampaged his legs now expanded to blanket his entire body. This form of shock was something Rover never thought was possible.
"But how?" Rover asked, looking dumbfounded.
"Think back to your first thoughts," said the forty-year old Insect. "What do you remember?" Rover closed his eyes, letting his instinct chauffeur him down Memory lane. He could vaguely remember that some strange voice was telling him that he was unlike any other human. Rover was uninfluenced by the laws of time. The sentence the voice recited still lingered in Rover's mind: Whatever you do in the future will determine what happened in the past.
***Author's Notes:***
I haven't been able to publish an article for almost 3 days .. I'm still busy but I'll do my best to just write a story. Thank you all who always read my Fictional Story..Love yuuu all God bless 😍🥰
For those who have not yet read Part l, we will put the link below for you to read.
https://read.cash/@Caroline17/reversing-infinity-c2aca13c
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Reversing Infinity
If there's one thing I've learned about Death, it's that he always has tricks up his sleeves. He was truly the joker in the deck, the one card you didn't want to mess with, the one you wished never existed in the first place. When I first met him I asked if the process of reincarnation was possible. He told me it was, much to my surprise. Why would he be honest about a system that counteracts his one and only purpose? Intrigued, I proceeded to ask another question: Will you let me?
Death's answer to that question was something that threw me completely off guard. If you were to come up with a way of reincarnation, what would it be like? I asked him what he meant by that. He told me to offer my own method to restore someone's life. Bonus marks for creativity, he added with a cackle. I told him, challenge accepted.
The life of Rover, which has yet to happen and has already happened, is both extraordinary and soon to be extraordinary. The path he will carve out and has already carved out originated as some impossible, yet possible theory that was devised by a single man. This man, known to few as Arturo, was the founding father of a magnificent piece of technology. What was this technology? Here to guide you through the discovery is the test subject himself, Rover, a nineteen year old who only just began his life, only to find out that everything he does in the future will determine what happened in the past.
Rover's initial thought was one that was nonexistent. The pure darkness that surrounded him temporarily repressed his ability of thinking. This darkness, strange as it was, was the only thing that existed when Rover first opened his eyes. It took a few minutes (a few nerve wracking minutes) for his retinas to adjust to the black that surrounded him wholly. It seemed to stretch for miles. It seemed to dark to be penetrated by light. It was only his first few moments and there he stood bewildered, captivated by an unknown force in an unknown locale. There was only one plausible solution for Rover, and that was to walk forward and search for any form of salvation, any form of revelation as to why he's here (and where exactly here is.) The ground beneath his feet, though shrouded in some sort of hazy mist, was hard like cement or polished stone. He wondered how long he'd have to travel. He wondered how much time would elapse. A chuckle spilled out of him, one that he couldn't repress. Time. He never fully understood the fabric and laws of time yet the idea seemed so silly, so malleable. He had only just begun his life. But why now? He patted his body to reassure himself this was happening. Why was he not a newborn? Why was he already past the stage of adolescence? Rover needed answers just as much as he needed light?
A thought, or perhaps an innate desire, bubbled into existence inside his fresh mind. Something important needed to be taken care of. At first he didn't understand what this meant, but something deep inside him told him he would find out sure enough. Then the darkness evaporated. It was gone, only to be replaced by darkness archenemy.
Rover threw a hand to his face to cover the overpowering amount of artificial light that now flooded the room. His hand wasn't enough. Neither were his eyelids. Everything glowed orange, practically to the point where it would imprint the colour on whatever the light fell upon.
"Can you hear me?" Asked a distant masculine voice, so distant in fact that Rover almost mistook it for his own bustling thoughts. Rover wanted to answer but the words were caught in his esophagus, reluctant to be exposed to the blinding light.
"If you can hear me," continued the mysterious voice, "move any part of your body."
Any part of my body, thought Rover. What did that mean? He'd already walked at least a kilometre since his awakening. Nevertheless, he obeyed the voice's request and wiggled his arms. Despite the sound of blood pumping in Rover's ears, the only sound he could hear was the mysterious voice gasping at Rover's movements. It sounded like the voice was in awe, completely unsuspecting any movement what's over.
"It... Worked?" Said the voice, which was difficult to decipher if he was talking to himself or someone else cloaked in silence. Finally Rover found some words to utter. "Where am I?"
The voice didn't answer. Rover, not sure if the voice couldn't hear him or was just ignoring him, suddenly wondered if the voice did in fact exist inside his head. If that were the case, then this had to be some sort of sick dream. He shook his head, subconsciously thinking that would cause him to wake up somewhere; perhaps inside a nice warm bed. Perhaps his mother would walk through the door and reassure him it was all just a bad dream and that he should go back to bed.
Rover winced. Did he even have a mother? If he did then he had no recollection of one. But then where was this voice coming from? And why wasn't it responding?
"I'm here!" Rover shouted, waving his arms and jumping up and down in hopes that maybe beyond the bright light there was a camera surveying his every move. Again there was no response. Then, like he had been injected with a needle of knowledge, a thought fell over him. Then another and a third. These three thoughts washed over him, every inch of his body, igniting a spark of remembrance. Shifting into focus was the reason (or three reasons) for him being here.
Firstly, he now remembered that he was unlike any other human. In terms of time, he functioned differently. A voice suddenly recited a crucial sentence inside Rover's head: whatever you do in the future will determine what happened in the past. This voice sounded familiar to the one from earlier, but this one was for sure inside Rovers head.
Rover's heart started beating faster, excited with the newfound revelations. The possibilities could be endless if time worked backwards.
Secondly, he now remembered that if he came across anyone struggling to cope with anxiety, he should invite them along on the journey. This thought hung in his head a little longer than the last. That's a bit specific, Rover thought, ultimately tying his brain into a knot of confusion.
Rover's heartbeat shifted into a different gear, finding brief comfort in the high frequency and ultimately ready to accelerate higher.
Thirdly, he now remembered that if some malevolent creature (size unfortunately unspecified) should approach him, he should stay clear of whatever it's protecting. Like electrical circuitry, a chill jolted through each of Rover's limbs. Malevolent creature? For whatever reason, Rover hadn't expected this unnamed and unknown journey to involve danger. Not only was he unsure where he was, but he would soon be dealing with some creature that would probably enjoy eating his bones as an appetizer.
Rover's heartbeat was now like a drum that refused to stop. It felt like his rib cage would only conseal the pounding for so long; eventually it would give out. Overcoming the emotion, Rover pressed onward, his journey taking full flight.
Some time later (and several times later), the light that had infected everything around Rover had finally ceased. However, instead of the familiar darkness returning, Rover was presented with something new. Growing right in front of his eyes, at the rate of ten feet per second, were massive trees unveiling themselves from the ground. Above him bloomed a sky that was devoid of its natural blueness. It was a depressing shade of grey that looked too ominous to be the by-product of rain clouds. Rover glanced around and noticed he was in an abandoned trailer park.
Sitting at a splintered picnic table not too far away was a young boy, at least fifteen years of age. He had light hair and a small scar above a pair of ocean blue eyes. Rover, intrigued to have come across another individual, approached him.
"What name belongs to you?"
"What name--huh?" Said the boy, startled.
"Your name," said Rover, his gaze firm on his new acquaintance. "The one that belongs to you."
"Oh," said the boy. "Insect."
"Where?!" Rover shrieked, jumping back and staring frantically at the ground in search of some creepy-crawly.
"No, no. That's my name," said insect, his eyes wide from Rover's outburst. "Well, it's a nickname really."
Rover, relieved he didn't have to undergo some fatal ordeal involving a mere bug on the ground, heaved a deep breath before finally speaking. "What kind of person would nickname you... Insect?"
"I--well, I nicknamed myself," admitted insect, who looked like he was shedding an ounce of guilt. "It's actually quite fitting because I'm the weakest person I've ever known."
"Oh, come on. You're not weak."
"How would you know, stranger?"
"Well, I don't," said Rover, realizing he'd never involved himself with someone else's personal life before. "But you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Surely your family doesn't think that of you."
"I'll never know," said insect, directing his attention to the ground. "They died in a house fire last summer... Where I was the only survivor. Of all people, lame little me crawled out of the flames and ashes like some undeserving phoenix."
"I'm-I'm sorry to hear that," said Rover, not quite used to the feeling of uncomfortableness.
"Don't say sorry to me. I was the one who accidentally started it." Insect's voice then sunk to a whisper, as if muttering to himself, "stupid timer didn't go off."
Rover remained quiet, feeling that Insect at least deserve a moment to gather himself and also that he was at a loss for words. "You should be saying sorry to dead," Insect went on, his voice back to its original louder pitch. "But you can't. I only deserve to be called a murderer, a freak, an outcast." "You don't seem like any of those, though."
"Like I said," said insect, "how would you know, stranger?" He hung his head; his eyes watery.
"Look," said Rover, bending down beside the picnic table so he could meet insect's averted gaze. "I can see you're crying even though you're holding back tears. Just let me help."
"I can't imagine what's going through your head to make you feel entitled to help me."
"It's not that I feel entitled. It's that I feel -- " Rover still croached, glanced down at the ground, much like Insect just moments earlier, "that helping you will somehow help me."
"You're crazy, stranger. You're just another meaningless speck in this meaningless world. A world full of trouble where the madness won't stop."
"Insect," said Rover, standing up and sounding stern enough to pass as Insect's (or anyone's) mother. "Sometimes to reach the light, we must venture through the shadows."
"What does that mean?" Asked Insect, rubbing his eyes.
"It means you're tagging along with me and that's that, okay?"
"My presence would only weaken you." Gasps and wheezes burst out of Insect's mouth, followed by a smaller scale of Niagara falls from his eyes.
"Hey, now. Stop thinking like that. Come on, I'll take you with me. I don't know where the hell I'm going but we can go together. I haven't even told you my name. My name's Rover and together we could-- we could conquer the unconquerable, defeat the undefeatable, discover the undiscoverable."
"Are those even.. Real words?" Sputtered Insect, throwing the conversation off topic.
"I think so, but that's not the point. You got the gist of what I meant so, are you with me... stranger?"
Together Rover and Insect travelled a reasonable distance. From the abandoned trailer park, to a location consumed with darkness, to an area with a blinding artificial light above, to an abandoned playground. Rover wondered why everything was abandoned. Where were All the people? Where was all the life?
Resembling the trailer park, the playground situated before them was bleak and seething with sorrow. A fragile-looking swing set was the playgrounds centerpiece. Occupying the swing was a girl, whom Rover judged to be around the same age as Insect.
"That girl over there." Said Rover, "you see her?"
"I'm pretty sure she's the only thing I can see right now."
Rover shot a sideward glance at Insect and found him to be in some sort of trance. "Get a hold of yourself, Insect. Something tells me this girl has something important to do with my past."
"Your past?" Cried Insect. "You mean you two have a thing?"
"A what?"
"A thing."
"What thing?"
"A thing."
"What's a thing?"
"Never mind," said Insect, returning his gaze to the girl. "Clearly I was mistaken" "I say we go up and talk to her." Said Rover. "You know, to introduce ourselves."
"Are you crazy?! I aint walking up to a girl just like that."
Rover eyed him suspiciously. "Why not?" "Uhh, because she's a girl."
"Outstanding observation, Insect," said Rover wryly. He grab Insect's arm and brought him along, overpowering Insect's resisting struggle.
The girl, who sat motionless on the wooden swing, had wavy brown hair that fell down past her shoulders. Rover and insect approached her from the side Insect making sure they were well out of her peripheral vision. From what they could see, the girl, her head slightly tilted downwards, appeared to be frowning.
"I know you're there," said the girl, her voice soft yet firm.
Rover and insect stopped dead in their tracks, stiff as boards, and the girl turned to face them. Rover elbowed Insect, prompting to speak first. When Insect remained silent for a few moments, Rover spoke cautiously, "how did you know we were here?"
The girl's eyes narrowed. "I was told that you'd be arriving soon." Insect took a step back.
"Who told you?" Asked Rover, standing his ground. The girl was still sitting on the swing, so if she were to do anything unexpected, she'd have to jump off first.
"Whi are you two?" Said the girl, ignoring Rover's question.
"My name is Rover. And this is --" "shut it!" Insect interrupted.
"This girl's crazy-- definitely don't want her knowing my name."
"You two are funny.'', said the girl, suddenly looking amused. "My name's Madison" Insect let out a deep breath, almost like a groan, drawing the attention of both Rover and Madison.
"Are you alright?" Asked Madison.
"My friend's fine" said Rover, turning back to the girl, who had now jumped off the swing and took a step towards them.
"I have a friend too." She said with a grin. "He always protects me." She raised a finger and pointed in the direction behind Rover and Insect.
Turning around, Rover and Insect could see something unveiling itself from the shadows. A pair of yellow eyes flashed open, followed by the extension of a long, black tongue cracking like a whip. The creature, easily larger than a grizzly bear and looking hungry enough to feed on an entire pack of wolves, moved closer, walking on four muscular legs.
"That's my friend, Malevolence," Madison said cheerfully. "He's always guarding me and I think he wants ever so to meet you."
***Author's Notes:***
Hewooooo Guys 😊 thank you for always reading my fiction story. Thank you for always Upvote my article. God bless you all 😍🥰
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A fantasy of Fifths
I always thought it should go without saying that many historians and scholars construct fantasy worlds out of thin air. It's magical. Day in and day out, from study to study, many of said historians and scholars withdraw from comfy writing posts or any form of writing location to show our world proof of fantasy. It all starts in our past, said Thomas, a historian living in a coastal city in north california.
I was a small child during my first carnival. Balloons would pop constantly as kids toss darts at colourful walls. Stray dogs would bark nonstop. Clowns would try to implant awful visions in my mind by following my cousin and I down shadowy hallways of a spooky mansion, dark clouds rolling across a dark sky through high windows. My cousin Andy, who was surprisingly tall, said that all carnivals in north california start on Mondays and finish on saturdays. It was a rhythmic occassion. Six days long and attracting tons of city-folk to calm and rural grasslands, carnivals had such a distinct way of gaining popularity. Kids from as far away as Portland and San Francisco would zoom down highways in daddy's fast and luxurious cars to grab hold of any form of thrill around.
Fast forward now to adulthood. My crazy, spiralling path was forming into a distinct vision. I saw things of all forms falling into a rhythm I was comfy with. Going from a parabolic arc of insanity through high school to this classic and historic job wasn't a straight road. I was happy as a historian now. It was my passion.
"Thomas?" Said Andy, frowning and looking out towards a horizon bathing in bright sunlight. "What's going on?
"What was that sound?" I said, turning to that giant glass window. A frightful boom shook my building. I was four floors up.
Shards of glass raining down was a common sight. A mass was plunking down into my stomach. I fought my way to purgatory and back to diminish it. Andy was grabbing my arm, saying that both of us should find a lift down to my main lobby. Hurrying out through a door into a hallway with cracks all along my floor, I found my vision looking at a map showing which way to go. I wasn't too familiar with this building. I only got my historian award not too long ago.
Now in a lift, Andy hit a button with an M on it to bring us towards my lobby. My building was crumbling. I couldn't wait this out. This particular horror was a spark, activating my wondrous ability that lay dormant until now. I was slipping into a void, not knowing If I would avoid mortality. I was moving onward from my ritualistic past and finding innovation amongst my surroundings.
I had wound up in a world far away from my collapsing history building. Or was I far away at all? All my hard work was crashing down and vanishing into thin air was my way of solving it. My dignity was crashing down with it. I had to find a way of moving on.
I was in a colourful room with circular windows on two walls. Through glass I could spot a spongy-looking ground. Am I on a distant moon? I stood upright and could only watch with a frown as a man was uncannily approaching. Looking similar to a clown without a rainbow afro, a formal introduction told my mind that this man was known as Salvador. An artist? Salvador Dali? In this far off world with fantastical inhabitants, anything could look as living as a human back in our Milky way galaxy. How far away was that, though? How many astronomical units? How many stars stood in my way?
"It's truly a thrilling day," said Salvador. Grabbing my hand and taking my body down a shadowy hallway, I was shown into a spacious room. Occupying a smooth rug was a dog that had about six limbs; I found my body turning away so i didn't know if it had six or possibly thirty.
"What is this world?" Said my curious vocal chords. It was bright and colourful and my mind was willing to find out why.
"It's your final location", said a small girl monotonously. Turning around, I was watching as a girl with pigtails and a pink skirt was approaching.
"What?"
"I'm Yolanda... And you know what I just said."
"How did I--?"
"Both your panic and your curiousity brought you to our world," said Yolanda. "And your distinct mind will bring about your downfall."
I was panicking. I had to find. This fantastical world was not what I was anticipating. I was scurrying towards any door I could find. Distant shouting told my mind that Salvador and Yolanda had sprung into action with such hostility.
"I'm just a historian!" I found my lungs shouting. "Don't kill--"
I was back. I saw a colourful lights turning into familiar and dull walls. I was back in that lift with Andy, though my building wasn't shaking. Walking out into my lobby, I thought that Andy should know of my trip into infinity. I was about to inform him, but his swift walking put his body too far away.
"I just want to go, now," Andy said, talking quickly.
"Andy, wait. You gotta know what I just saw."
"Stop it, Thomas. This isn't good for your brain. It's probably not natural."
"I was in a distant world!" I said, catching up to him. A far off galaxy!"
"Stop acting silly, cousin. It was probably just a crazy, lucid fantasy." Andy was turning to walk away. "I think your mind has has an irrational phobia."
A fading glow of sunlight was shining through my building's windows, casting my lobby into a final splash of significant colour. Today was magical, that much was obvious. But today was also frightful.
"It all starts in our past," I said to my shadow.
Thank you Guys for always appreciating my works 😘😊 I always write fictional stories because of my imaginations hahaha 😅
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