I’m an aspiring young author who enjoys making stories, novels and poems to both entertain and fear others. I’m still developing my skills and am trying my best to perfect them.
I’m an aspiring young author who enjoys making stories, novels and poems to both entertain and fear others. I’m still developing my skills and am trying my best to perfect them.
“Have mercy on me!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, the image of my face plastered on the mirror makes my jaw clench.
This is the end…the end of life and the end of my love. I loved writing, I loved making people laugh and giggle but…every story needs a full stop at the end, when no more word can continue. It happened days ago, it happened hours ago, when my mind left me at home. Couldn’t I just say “no” for the sake of my own? My ink in pen will dry and I will not be able to safe it anymore. I am leaving…forever. I loved my life as a writer, but income wasn’t enough, I had to leave. “Am I not enough for you?” The paper stared. “Enough? You are…fullfiling in the eyes of strangers who are blind.” I am leaving.
Can’t you hear? See? I know you can, as I myself can hear and see, The air is thick when they roam, I think I can no longer bear the sane, A rat monster with fangs and nails, Men wearing robes with a biting habit, Pacing around back and forth in my room, leave now or nothing will remain in my veins, The room I stay is a vacancy of wildness, Five are missing whilst there are holes in the home of rabits, Voices nagging me 24/7, am I going mad- No! I see them and so do they! I voiced my pain and worries to them, I told them, “It is I who is sane!” Yet they still haven’t heard a word that can be digested, Here I am…after awakening their annoyance and making them banish me to hell, I sit still all night long, in a white room with only a mattress in the centre, I see them…so do you.
Many months had gone by, yet we still remained unnoticed, How I wish to have become a beauty, Aphrodite would’ve been my name, Far too aware of my flaws, yet I ought to be plastered on a wall to be forever forcused on, The thin linear string told me otherwise, will I become part an infinity? Dried up, broken and a teared sculpture in the Hall of Fame? I was a woman…or a man….or an entity far away, Red was a colour I liked and admired, sought to change the behaviour and alter me into being brave, Long ago….Mid of August….on a Sunday afternoon….while the rain covered the horizen like a bird in a cage…I saw my fate the moment the light hit the ground…and onto me…. Nobody cared, I was a red head afterall….they saw me as a witch, Hurray was echoing the small town, they felt many glory, This is my story…it is, Even the dead tell stories.
