There it is! Home. In front of me stood…a casino. The bright lights blinded me but kept pulling me closer. Home. Home, it was.

Walking inside, it felt like I recognized everyone and they recognized me. We didn’t know each other, but we knew why we were here…to live like there was no tomorrow. We would spend all of our savings and sell everything we had on us, but no. We didn’t know each other. We were each other. We were struggling. We were unhappy. We were addicted. We were family.

We had no place to go but home. Home is where we are the most happy. Home is where time doesn’t pass. Home is where the inevitable struggle is delayed. Home is where we all want to be. Home, at the casino.

Dante set forth into the abandoned church, and the scent of rotting wood, smoulder and loam blackened his senses, he was overwrought whilst he trudged his way into the ramshackled house of prayer, a part of him absorbed itself in shrinking away at the glimpse of salient signs of rotting construction.

He resolved to unearth his habitual hiding spot which was in the basement of the decaying church, where the burial chambers of the bygone priests still domained. He clung his palms together into another one of his heartfelt prayers, offering up his prayers to the one and only God.

“Father, art in heaven… forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.” Dante professed to God, repetitively, til his words became illegible by dint of his deadening tongue, and his lips were roughened by rallying fine powder hemmed up by the underground chambers.

“Father…” He rocked himself back and forth in a clay corner, absent of light, vainly, against the benumbing stench of the burial chambers that pulled his faint heart to pieces. Muttering in an undertone, repetitively, beseechingly, as if he were a newborn babe in a crib, afraid of everything and anything unfamiliar to what he was used to.

“Dante?” Gretel came into sight atop the stone steps that led to the chambers’ trapdoor, permitting a ray of golden sunlight to light up his darkness, wisps that fled from her scarlet plaits started to glisten under the sunshine, she hurled into the sod scented underground chambers.

She settled to perch atop the highest step, burrowing her elbows into her own lap, she clung to her flushed cheeks with mud-caked hands to be all smiles. “Dante… are you praying, again?” Her sapphires rather than eyes, danced in the blaze of the sun, so turbulently that Dante glimpsed, hither and thither, in the murkiness, up the loam walls and across the loam grounds for any wisps of rainbow reflection.

“Go away… Gretel.” Dante towed down fistfuls of his black hair, endeavouring to tremble out his shuddering words with a quaking jaw. “To God, again?” Gretel continued to chant away at her questioning, her pearly teeth ploughed down at the strawberry and lemon lollipop in between her lips, regardless of her place upon the stone steps, she battered down her rose-coloured shoes upon the steps.

“Stop it! Gretel!” Now, Dante held onto his ears with both palms to hinder the racket of her shoes atop the cobble steps, “Stop it! Gretel, please!” Rehearsingly, he pled for her to cease at her torturous behaviour. Gradually, her rumbling steps came to a standstill, and the sounds of her fracturing lollipop could be heard.

“Hmph.” She ascended up to her feet, churlishly, to flee her way out of the trapdoor. “Scaredy cat.” She soughed out with a blackly look, and disappeared out of sight. Dante started to breath, again, and the tightening of his chest had dissipated along with the tremble in his jaw, his beady eyes took a moment to rest upon the tombs in the shadows.

He bolted his way up the stone steps and into the sunlight to find Gretel.

Ellis begins to write almost immediately after hearing the directions. He already had this idea running in his head, so it would be good to get some of the basics down in this 10 minute horror story exercise.

Recently, he watched I’ll Always Know What You Did Last Summer and it was not good! Awful even. But the setting of the opening scene was interesting.

An amusement park. Lots of hiding places. Lots of people. Lots of potential bodies.

Perfect for a slasher.

He takes the setting and he details one that is inspired by Warner’s Park, which is close to campus. Never having been to any other one, it felt like a good idea to use elements of the park.

Brielle keeps tapping her pencil behind him and he is a bit annoyed. He almost says something but then she starts to actually write. Thankfully. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Continuing to detail the setting and how that works for the axe wielding killer, the story took shape. His protagonist, Drew, is his version of a final girl…well final guy. There aren’t enough of those, not that there is anything wrong with final girls.

When Professor T informed them that time was up, Ellis felt confident in his story, handing it in with great pride.

OoOoO

Noble’s Playground is where all the fun takes place. Bright lights, greasy food, childish laughter, and great memories are made here. That’s what most people think of when they think of this amusement park.

But the man with the axe sees it differently. $65 to get in and kill people. Seems like a deal to him. Plenty of bodies to satiate his lust for blood. No checks to his bag or his person. Foolish of them but works for him.

_People are happy. When they are blinded by joy, that’s when he should strike. It is unexpected. That’s why in battles generals choose to attack on holidays. Some think they are safe just because it is supposed to be a nice day. _

_He enjoys the calm weather and the bustling of park goers. He takes his time getting to the center of the park. It is where he’ll make history. _

Passing boyfriends trying to impress girlfriends at the games, he chuckles. They’ll have more to worry about soon.

There is a Ferris wheel in the middle, reaching a great height. A long line waits for their turn. He joins them.

This will do.

_Reaching into his bag, he grips the wooden handle, unsheathing the axe. _

_The blade slices through the first victim like butter. It is one of those motions that you want to do repetitively since it is so satisfying. _

_There are screams, but it doesn’t deter him from slashing down person after person. He relishes in the fear. _

_The area cleared out pretty quickly with eleven bodies strewn about. Looking around, he spots a boy. Maybe a teenager. Just staring at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes. _

Twirling the axe, he wants one more. One more victim. This boy will be that one.

Amidst the black mold and sagging ceiling, I stand—an unwelcome squatter in this forsaken place. The awful stench of mildew and sweat hangs heavily in the air, A filthy mix of decay that mirrors the rot within me. Cockroaches scuttle across the cracked linoleum, their tiny legs tracing patterns of desperation. Broken beer bottles litter the floor, their shattered remains glinting up at me like broken promises. The once white carpet is now scarred by the stains of countless footsteps. Footsteps of all the lost souls who have slept here. Footsteps of people like me.

I look around at the rest of the junkies who surround me – those hollow-eyed souls draped over sagging couches. My heart aches with the realization of what we truly are. For we are now just mere echoes of humanity. I study all of them one by one. Their skin, pale and marked by the scars of addiction, mirrors my own fractured spirit. I watch them as they lounge, shrunken into themselves. cocooned in a haze of chemical oblivion. Their laughter, if it can be called that, is a clashing melody. Nothing more than a mockery of joy.

I trace the peeling wallpaper with my fingertips. It’s faded floralpattern is a relic of better days. The walls, like my heart and soul, are weary and full of holes. They, like myself, are on the verge of collapse. The ceiling sags, as if the heavens themselves weep for what once was. And I, too, weep—for the girl I used to be, for the dreams abandoned like this house.

Numbness settles over me, a thick fog that blurs the edges of reality. I am broken, just like the knotted-out souls who surround me. Their eyes, vacant and bloodshot, hold no judgment. Perhaps they recognize a lost spirit—the wreckage of hope, the debris of a battle lost. or perhaps they don’t see me at all. After all, I am but a ghost among the living.

As I stand here, I wonder: Can a place absorb the pain of its inhabitants? Can walls bear witness to shattered dreams? Or is it merely a reflection—an illusion that blurs the boundaries between the external and the internal? I am both the abandoned house and the girl within it, crumbling yet resilient, lost yet still standing. And perhaps, in this shared brokenness, there lies a strange kinship—a silent understanding that binds us all. 🏚️💔

тαкє му нαηԃ αηԃ ℓσσк мє ιη тнє єує тнєяє'ѕ ѕтιℓℓ тιмє ℓєƒт ɕυт тнєѕє ɕσяԃѕ αвԃ кιԃ яυη ƒσя уσυя ℓιƒє

мαувє уσυя вяσкєη,мαувє уσυя ѕнαттєяєԃ ωιтн ησ яєαѕσηѕ ℓєƒт тσ тяу вυт уσυ ѕтιℓℓ нανє ѕσ мυɕн,ѕσ мυɕн ωσятн ѕανιηց. тнαт уσυ нανє ℓєƒт ση тнє ιηѕιԃє

ι кησω уσυ ƒєєℓ ℓιкє уσυ αяє ωσятнℓєѕѕ,тнαт уσυя ԃαу нαѕ ɕσмє тнє мιѕєяу єαтѕ уσυ αℓινє υηтιℓ уσυ нανє ɕσмє υηԃσηє уσυ ƒєєℓ ℓιкє тнєяє ιѕ ησωнєяє тσ ɕαℓℓ нσмє тσηιցнт

уσυ αяє ησт αℓσηє,тнιѕ ιѕ συя тιмє,αηԃ ι αм ву уσυя ѕιԃє му ƒяιєηԃ тнιѕ ιѕ ԃσ σя ԃιє

𝑯𝒆𝒚 ѕнαԃσω , 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒆? 𝘿𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞!

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡,𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏

𝑵𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝒇𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕,𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔

𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆

𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏, 𝑰𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞!

𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚? 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆,𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅,𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆

𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉,𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾,𝗐𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖾?

𝑯𝒆𝒚 ѕнαԃσω 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒆? 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆!

αℓℓ тнιѕ нєℓℓ уσυ ℓινєԃ αηԃ ѕєєη ԃяσωη ιт αℓℓ ιη ցαѕσℓιηє тнєη ℓιցнт α мαтɕн,ρυℓℓ тнє ριη уσυ αяє ησт ωнσ уσυ'νє вєєη тнє ραѕт ιѕ วυѕт ℓєѕѕσηѕ ℓєαяηєԃ ℓιցнт ιт υρ αηѕ ℓєт ιƒ вυяη

𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓇ℯ𝓂ℯ𝓂𝒷ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃ℯ𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉ℴ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝑔𝓇ℴ𝓊𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓋ℯ 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷ℯ𝒻ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝑔ℴ𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝓇ℴ𝓃𝑔 𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 ℐ𝓈 𝒩ℴ𝓉 𝒯𝒽ℯ ℰ𝓃𝒹

𝐇𝐞𝐲,ѕнαԃσω 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞? 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬!

αℓℓ тнιѕ нєℓℓ уσυ ℓινєԃ αηԃ ѕєєη ԃяσωη ιт αℓℓ ιη ցαѕσℓιηє тнєη ℓιցнт α мαтɕн, ρυℓℓ тнє ριη уσυ αяє ησт ωнσ уσυ'νє вєєη тнє ραѕт ιѕ วυѕт ℓєѕѕσηѕ ℓєαяηєԃ ℓєт ιт вυяη

ℓєт ιт вυяη

ℓєт ιт вυяη

тнє ραѕт ιѕ วυѕт ℓєѕѕσηѕ ℓєαяηєԃ ℓιցнт ιт υρ αηԃ ℓєт ιт вυяη

ℓєт ιт вυяη- ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕫𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕣 [𝔼𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕖]

𝖳𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅

𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾

𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒

𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗄?

𝗌𝗈 𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

The drooping walls Don’t stand tall They sag And they fall They creak And they groan They complain I have no room to brag Hollowed out cheeks They wail It’s no Braille They don’t suffer From pain They lost Their feeling A long time ago They accumulate frost Cold and shady Not a well mannered lady

They lost all color Now black and white So much discolor Now all dull Nothing bright They have a thick hull Guarding it protective

A large bloody mural is plastered On a moonlit wall It reeks of rotting blood It screams bloody murder Written on it Says: “Beware souls For you are Entering unknown Territory Watch Your steps Be wary Of other lost Souls For they aren’t scared To kill you Without remorse.”

            -Knife(ofc approved by Canni😂)

It has been six years, to the day, since— I place the thought away. It isn’t important, what today is. I left my house, and sauntered into the woods encompassing it. I trekked aimlessly, pulling my golden hair into a pony-tail. It was late-winter, as of now, and the trees were gray and thin, with skeletal branches and fingers that reached— what they reached for I couldn’t know. The sky was dull. The clouds cast a shadow over the forest, rendering everything dark, and dismal. I walked. Eventually I came upon a stream running though the mountain, cutting its way through the forest, and beside it was a hunting post. Beer cans and cigarette butts were spread about, buried in the leaves. There was one bottle I found particular interesting. It was an amber-tinted 20 ounce bottle that was empty, lying before an oak. The post itself, though secured into a tree, was rusted, and the netting was torn. Whoever left these bottles, cans, and cigarettes had evidently abandoned this post, as well. Everything here was abandoned. Once this dreary place served it’s purpose, it was left behind. The whole forest looked gray. There was a chill in the air. Not a bird sang; not a squirrel could be heard leaping across trees; and there were no deer. It was desolate. But there was one dogwood that had a single white bloom on its branch, across the stream, and the bloom shined like a piece of gold amidst a pan of gravel.

I can only run.

I don’t know where I am going, but I don’t particularly care. Not right now.

I’m sure I run through many trees and bushes. I’m sure I get soaked from the rain. I’m sure that I run far. Away.

I don’t know when I stop running. I look around to take note of my surroundings. I’m surrounded by dry grass. I can see for acres and acres of the flat terrain, and all of it is covered in dry grass. Not even the wind disrupts the scene.

The consistent crunch follows me as I continue walking. Not knowing where I am, not knowing where I am going, not really caring.

Actually, the vast emptiness and quiet is almost a familiar thing. A comfort.

At some point a tall silhouette slowly becomes visible on the horizon. I don’t change my course, because it is directly in my current path. At least I have some sense of confidence in this direction now.

As I walk, it seems harder to make good progress.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

The sound my only confirmation that I am moving forward at all.

Yet, at the same time, I stand in front of a tall, strong tree in no time. It has a sturdy trunk and long branches covered with vibrant leaves. It is completely out of place among the barren plains that surrounds it in all directions till forever. It is the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The tree reminds me of what I’ve been avoiding. What the plains have distracted me from thinking about since I ran.

It is almost like nothing that happened before mattered. The betrayal doesn’t matter. Other people and their stupid thoughts and complicated feelings don’t matter. I don’t have to care about any of that any more…

… except do.

I care that I can’t go back. I care that I lost the only semblance of family I had ever had. I care that I can’t stop caring about two stupid people living in a bare, humble home.

That tree sure is beautiful…

Maybe it can help me forget, even for just a little while…

How to care.

How to hurt.

I slowly reach out to trace the intricate pattern of the rough bark.

I don’t move.

I don’t move, even as the entire tree bursts into flames.

I don’t move as the once lively leaves shrivel up and powder the field with ash. Those leaves could have sprinkled down on a lovely new couple.

I don’t move as the once reaching branches shrink into themselves and crash down to the dry grass. Those branches could have held a strong fortress for a couple of kids.

I don’t move as the once sturdy stump slowly peels back layer by layer until my hand grasps at nothing but smoke. The stump could have made a strong foundation for an old man to build his house.

I don’t move as all the grass that I could see for acres is overtaken by bright oranges and yellows. The grass that animals could have froliced and hid.

In no time at all, something so beautiful is gone. The heat makes it impossible for my face to release the torrent of tears to accompany the tightness in my chest.

I can only keep walking.

I can’t go back.

I can’t even care to try.

Rustling sounds of leaves and branches brushing pass each other, away from the mansions Looking at the vibrant mural the sky has painted My eyes relax into a close, I felt sedated

Here I sit, a good distant from the city Underneath a willow tree that’s O so pretty At the tip of the hill, the glowing sun goes into hiding Birds return home tweeting and gliding

I’ve never been more at peace What I have learned is everyone leaves From chaos to peace, I learned to release The painful and toxic Alone, I taught myself to love The grateful and nontoxic

Jade, stood before the dilapidated house, its once vibrant exterior now faded and worn. The peeling paint and broken windows mirrored the cracks in her own weary soul. With a heavy heart, she pushed open the creaking door, stepping into the darkness that enveloped the abandoned dwelling.

As she ventured further into the house, a sense of unease settled upon her. The air was thick with a musty scent, and the silence was deafening. Each step she took echoed through the empty halls, amplifying her own loneliness. The dimly lit rooms seemed to reflect her own emotional state, casting long shadows that danced with her fears.

In one corner of the house, Jade noticed a faint glow seeping from beneath a door. Curiosity mingled with trepidation as she approached, her heart pounding in her chest. With trembling hands, she reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a moment before turning it.

As the door swung open, a rush of water burst forth, flooding the room in an instant. Jade was caught off guard, her body swept away by the forceful current. Panic gripped her as she struggled to keep her head above water, her limbs flailing against the relentless tide.

She was a strong swimmer, but the water seemed to have a mind of its own, refusing to yield. It surged around her, pulling her deeper into the house, its relentless flow overwhelming her senses. The dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the walls, mocking her futile attempts to escape.

Exhaustion settled into Jade’s bones as she fought against the unyielding current. Her muscles ached, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her mind grew foggy with fear. Loneliness wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud, amplifying her sense of despair.

In the midst of her struggle, Jade’s resolve wavered. She questioned whether it was worth fighting against the relentless torrent, whether surrendering to the depths would bring her the respite she so desperately craved. Her body grew heavy, her limbs weak, as she teetered on the edge of surrender.

Just as she was about to succumb to the darkness, the water began to drain, revealing a glimmer of hope. Jade’s weary heart fluttered with a flicker of relief, her body yearning for a moment's respite. But before she could catch her breath, the water surged back, filling the room once more.

The cycle repeated, each moment of rest teasingly brief, leaving Jade trapped in a never-ending loop of fear, loss, and exhaustion. The weight of her emotions pressed upon her, threatening to drown her spirit entirely.

In the depths of that flooded room, Jade’s struggle mirrored the depths of her own soul. She fought against the relentless tide, desperately seeking an escape from the darkness that threatened to consume her. And though she was weary and battered, a glimmer of determination remained, a flicker of hope that whispered, "Keep swimming, keep fighting."

For in the darkest moments, it is often the smallest spark that ignites the flame of resilience. And as Jade continued to swim against the unyielding current, she clung to that flicker of hope, knowing that one day, the waters would recede, and she would find her way back to the surface, stronger and wiser than before.