《Wading Through The Dark》But Yet, I Run
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I'm trapped in my head, locked within myself without a door or window to escape from. Trapped like a crow in a birdcage made of thorns, trapped like a fly in a razor-sharp spider's web, my body bleeding from the wombs. I'm trapped here but I'm not alone, they follow me like shadows under the burning sun- chasing me down corridors of my thoughts and flights of memories I can't forget. They never give up, and still, I'm trapped.
There is a key if only I could reach it. It dangles off the side of a cliff, hanging so patronizingly close that I could reach it if only I had the will to jump. But if I did I would fall, fall down a rabbit hole of darkness and I don't think I would ever hit the bottom. But yet, I would have the key, a victory among the pit of my failings.
I want to get out, run free like deer in the forest. Away from my cage, away from my spider's web. But they won't stop chasing, like dogs with a bone thrown by my misgivings and lies. They won't stop, so I run. But still I am trapped, I run but I am trapped. If only I had some way out, some way to break free of my bindings but no, there is no knife to cut my way out. No hammers to break these walls. No shovel to dig with. Just me, alone.
They're nothing but figures of my past haunting me as I run. Distant echoes reflect memories of awful times and bad choices from long ago. How I wish I could face them, how I wish I could turn and stop them with a mere glance. But no, if I look I fear they may kill me, so I run.
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My feet grow tired the more steps I take, my legs ache like burning coal. My heart beats out my ears onto the floor, but I won't stop- though my lungs can't take it. I breathe heavily, but yet I can't breathe at all. My eyes are wax, and my feet are full of sores. I pass fields of flowers twisting into blankness and playgrounds weaving in and out of my blood-red hatred, but I do not stop and stare. There is no noise as I run, silence is a prison and God hath no pity.
Faster and faster, slower and slower, quicker and quicker, I run. I am going in circles, my head's a maze. I'm looking, feeling, searching for a way out, but there is none. This place is a prison I can't escape from, but yet I run.
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Throwing Dice
Mirnaya and Nebesa are futuristic city-states existing in parallel dimensions. Siblings Valya and Maxim are each stuck in a different city. Will they be able to break the divide between the two parallels and see each other again?
8 129The one Player
Jacob, an avid Minecraft player in his free time, touched that damn mirror that looked so much like an End portal. And portalled away he was, because the next thing he knew, blue boxes were everywhere he looked. He could craft items, he could roam around. He could enjoy life! With his extensive knowledge of the game, of the mods, of the playstyle... He knew that he would thrive here, in a world so similar to the virtual one where he had spent so many hours of his life.
8 119HER
you're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you.
8 174Correcting My Martial Path
This story follows a young student on modern Earth, who got sucked in a spatial dimension that suddenly appeared in his living room. Follow his adventure in a world unknown to him as he tries his best to cope up and find a way to return to earth.
8 204The Necromancer King
((Hiatus.))(First fantasy story.)Someone told me to write a fantasy story so here it is.A dragon king was bored as it had conquered the world. There was no one to fight as he killed his enemies. No one dared revolt. He's eaten all the powerful prey on his planet. No meat can satisfy him anymore. When he sees one of his subjects atop a summoning circle, he kills the subject, assumes a demi- human form with dragon horns and accepts the call. He is weak once again as he loses all his powers, but he doesn't care. He has a new world full of enemies. He wonders how they'll taste. Being a hero? Who cares. That meant that his meal was stronger and more numerous than the allies he can't eat. He will either rule them all or eat them all as he had done once before.Warning: If you want a hero of absolute goodness, look elsewhere. The MC will do both evil and good acts. Justice is cruel and merciless and there are twisted forms of justice.
8 90Sitting Under a Torn Umbrella
Man is for man - this is an old slogan today. It has lost its uniqueness for the cause of self-centred mentality. Now we cannot hear the chorus songs of unity. Rather the sound of cacophony always do disturb our hearing organ by imposing acute disparity. We don't fly the flag of harmony, uncompromising corrupted selfish hands try to disconnect the rope of the flying flag to take undue advantage. Human being lacks of humane quality. Strangulation of faith is seen here and there. We are losing hope day by day. The act of deflowering is an art. The dignity of woman is mercilessly crushing under the wheel of gender inequality. Filial piety sinks into the ocean of disbelief. Every moment we do feel pangs of neglect sitting under a torn umbrella.
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