🕯️Call of Destiny: Omens And Dreams (Part Three) 〰 Fantasy Story by MarvellousNightmare 〰 Aridia Cycle📜

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination.

The heavy, inky storm clouds sprawled across the sky swiftly. There was no glimpse of rain, though the thunder rumbled on and on, promising, menacing… The stuffy air was electrified with foreboding suspense; the stillness was dense and unbearable… Until a sudden cluster of lightning shattered the sky to pieces and set the sparse rock woods ablaze. The mountains trembled in an instant, swaying, bursting, and crying in stonefalls. Their gray shapes surrounded Agenit, threatening to crumble, fall, and bury him alive.

The valleys below were damp and crimson with blood; heaps of corpses could be spotted everywhere. The moans and prayers of the dying people filled the air, imploring, cursing – nonetheless, their pleas hung unanswered.

It reminded the priest so vividly of what he had read about The World’s End Prophecy, it was uncanny. Now the Moons should fall on the earth and burst into pieces, ruining the cities, seaports, temples—all they built in their blind pride. And the Deities would step down to earth, walking among mortals, cleansing the planet of sinners and rewarding the worthy ones… Did he even believe in this nonsense from the sacred scrolls? There was no time for rumination, though.

Agenit looked everywhere, desperately searching, calling for someone, yet never finding even the slightest resemblance… His head was swirling from tension, his fists clenched, until finally he gasped in recognition. She is alive! Alive!

In this crazy, terrifying madness, when death seemed to rule the world, dead, blank eyes staring at him from every point and angle, and devastation absorbing everything around, he cared for no one but her. It was her he could never lose.

Half-blood she was, or some other kind of elven descendant. Anyone could instantly guess this just by looking at the woman’s luminous, deep, almost transparent eyes, with an electric quality in them. So humane, affectionate, and at the same time so bizarrely inhuman, they were almost the exact reflection of the sky’s insanity above them.

The sorceress stood upright, raising her hands to the sky. Her inner palms, covered with intricate tattoo patterns, shimmered mysteriously with tiny blue and silver sparks; she was evidently weaving a spell.

The woman remained on the cliff’s edge, shaking, almost embraced and destroyed by the imminent danger. She was just one tiny step away from it. Agenit’s heart scorched with pain at this sight. He knew that the impact of the spell could kill her at that moment; the air was electrified, overcharged with the storm and the energy left from the battle magic that filled the space not so long ago. The sorceress knew it too. Why did she wish to sacrifice herself like this? For what?

The man wanted to catch her in an instant, to press her tightly to his chest and never let go. He had never been the romantic type, really. He would laugh at the mere suggestion. Though, right now… He couldn’t help it.

Agenit ran to her, calling, cursing, stumbling, trying to reach his beloved so desperately… Embers from the forest fire were falling on his head, and stones almost hit him several times – just a few scratches. Still, he’d give his life to save her, to stop her from enchanting this murderous spell… The signs on her palms lit up brightly. Feeling his presence, the woman turned, looking him straight in the eye, as Agenit squeezed her at last…

The unfinished spell burst, creating multiple energy currents, igniting the air around them. The power wave threw their bodies away, smashing them against the rocks, and stones fell like rain, covering them and saving them partly from the destructive, poisonous impact. In other circumstances, it would have killed and buried their bodies, but the priest created an energy shield the moment he caught the woman.

It was almost quiet now. His beloved lay in his arms, so delicate, unmoving, so cold to the touch… Was the blow too powerful for her anyway? Or was she doomed the moment she started weaving her enchantment? He pulled her even closer in dismay, unwilling, refusing to let her die…

The man continued embracing his beloved in silence, shocked and confused, until he discerned a slight movement of her head. Agenit lit up in an instant, full of hope, however it was only a silent whisper, ‘It’s the end…’ Her voice was like the rustle of tree leaves gently touched by the wind, like the soothing song of the sea tide… Or was it all an illusion, these words? Her eyes were shut tightly, no breath was heard or felt, even though he tried desperately to catch it, and only tiny currents of blood from her temple were leaving wet stains on his hands and clothes…

‘You overslept,’ Torret reproached him dryly, shaking him energetically by the shoulder. ‘Wake up, you were chosen to be part of the embassy to Delvii during the sacred gathering an hour ago. In the name of Rogterr, I’d never give you such a responsibility! I wouldn’t trust you even with washing dishes after supper. They are crazy! Crazy! And they rely too much on astrology!’

Agenit cursed silently and opened his eyes. His dreams, foreboding and disquieting, still had a grip on him. The mesmerizing eyes of that unknown sorceress, the coldness of her skin… The man shook his head, trying to get rid of these confusing feelings while his neighbor continued his unending, maddening preaching.

Torret gestured dramatically, carried by irritation, then looked back and stopped abruptly. ‘A bad sign,’ he nodded towards the sacred lamp. ‘For fire’s sake, you can’t take care of one simple thing! Every neophyte can do it! And they chose you as the embassy member! Idiots!’

Agenit silently agreed with his friend. Maybe this is a sign that the time has come? His sacred fire went out, anyway. He’d go to the mages’ guild this evening; they must accept him. There was no time to wait. The man caught a tiny movement from the corner of his eye and turned swiftly to look at the window.

A black, four-winged bird sat on the windowsill, observing him triumphantly, with uncovered malice. As soon as it noticed the man’s attention, the creature shrieked sharply, eerily, declaring the disaster.

Agenit shuddered with unease.

© MarvellousNightmare on Coconut Doesn’t Exist

If you are interested in my readings and sessions (see the examples here), please take a look at my offer 🙂

June 27, 2024 17

🕯️Call of Destiny: Omens And Dreams (Part Two) 〰 Fantasy Story by MarvellousNightmare 〰 Aridia Cycle📜

Part One
Part Three

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination.

He observed the room again. So silent it was. His neighbor Torret, pious, honest, and well-versed man, was still absent. He would make a great high priest one day, at least Agenit would vote for him. No one can be more genuine, knowledgeable, or honorable than Torret. Definitely not him—man chuckled silently.

He took the last peek through the window, observing the chanting, swaying crowd, running kids, stumbling, laughing, crying, a somber procession moving towards the earth temple—someone’s funeral, no doubt… The distant sea waters were shimmering cold and bright, resembling a wide silver bracelet, thrown loosely at the place where the sands meet the horizon, reflecting the blinding sunrays…

A black feather slowly swirled down, as if falling from the clear, sizzling skies—straight from nowhere. Agenit blinked and headed towards his bed, falling down on the cool sheets.

His sacred lamp, composed of three divine metals, was burning steadily, placed on the bedside table among the paper rolls. They were taught that these metals represented the three kinds of fire: iron was an earthy fire, gold—a festive flame or sunray, and tin stood for a spiritual blaze. He should have cleared some space for his lamp, sure, put rolls in order, but a heavy laziness started to overcome him.

The lamp’s fire should never be put away. It was a representation of his vocation as a priest; it was a living, acting, undisturbed prayer to the Rogterr, which secured his guidance and protection. It would be extinguished only at the moment of his death… Or if he left the temple, which meant the same. The fire suddenly rose and jumped upwards.

The man laughed shortly to himself. You see? He is not made for being a priest, the divine Father knows it perfectly, sees him through in his highest wisdom.

Sure, Agenit was born under the sign of a warrior, in the month of high fires, conceived in chaos. On the day of his birth, all three Moons were aligned, forming the resemblance of a crown. Which happened quite rarely, actually. Because of this, the members of the fire order believed him to become their leader, a High Priest, and with time rule over Aridia, as part of a sacred council represented by high priests of all four elemental deities.

In truth, he was quite gifted, but had a completely wrong personality for becoming a priest—too exuberant, too brave, too independent. He wanted to fight in battles, build his own home, probably have a wife one day, if she won’t interfere much. Adventures! This word made his heart beat faster.

He’d travel this world all over. He would see all lands and their curiosities. He would never rest until his inner fire would be extinguished and his body would be but an empty cocoon, incinerated to ashes.

The fragrance of flowers in bloom, heavy and oppressing in such weather, made his head go round. Agenit loved the heat but was too dizzy already to adjust his body to it, so it started to overwhelm him. He’d go to the seashore and swim as far as he could see in the warm, clear waters. Later, he would dive deep and lie still in the depths, watching the sun mysteriously glow through the water layers, its light interrupted only by the motley schools of small fish. Ah, the refreshing coolness of sea waves. The man stretched out in his bed, dreaming.

There was another issue with this hypothetical “crown and might” notion—he was lowborn. No, his mother was a revered wise woman, and in normal circumstances, he would be respected as well, as her child, even though never taught or admitted to magic. But Agenit was a child of the war, a bastard, knowing nothing of his father, except that he was a Delvian soldier, who raped his mother. Delvian…

They called him that all his life. His very reflection told him so every morning. He inherited these sharp face features and black hair from his father, and wore it as a branded sign of shame. Not once did he wish that someone would break his nose in a fight. Shaving his head bald was another option. As a child, he often imagined dyeing his hair in the sun rays, so they lost their color; some women did that. But with time, Agenit learned to accept what he was.

Nonetheless, can you imagine a person looking like him entering the council? Walking apparition of their worst overseas enemy?

He bit his lip, still watching the dancing, restless movement of the flame. The music fell silent. Now he heard only the occasional bursts of laughter from the street, just under his window. “Neophytes having a break,” crossed his mind.

He often thought of joining the mages guild. They’ll accept him for sure with his talent and expertise. Then he’ll be under their protection and can quit the priesthood without the risk of being killed. They also had fewer oaths and rules, except for sticking for each other and taking part in increasing the overall magical knowledge. Moreover, the mages… They are way freer in their ways. He planned to join them for a long time already, he just waited for the right moment to do that… But this moment never actually came… Even now, he is putting off the final decision.

The movements of fire entranced him, lulling his mind, together with the insistent chirping and young voices coming out from the quarter’s garden. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, for a couple of minutes; he had some time before the next ceremony… Just for a minute, so that he could consider this change with a fresher mind. Maybe it’s time…

© MarvellousNightmare on Coconut Doesn’t Exist

If you are interested in my readings and sessions (see the examples here), please take a look at my offer 🙂

June 20, 2024 18

📚I’m a Passionate Reader! + My Thoughts on The Whole Truth About the Planet Ksi by J. Zajdel📖

Daily writing prompt

What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

View all responses

Hi everyone 🙂

I’m back to blogging after this somewhat lengthy weekend, and I’m ready to share my thoughts, art, and experience with you 🙂

First and foremost, I’d like to answer briefly to this prompt.

My favorite thing about myself is that I always think with my own head and I’m not easily swayed by the opinions of other people. Additionally, I’m curious, inquisitive, experimental, and I’m constantly trying to broaden my horizons, which leads me to the fact that I’m a passionate reader 😉 And I love this about myself very much.

from https://www.empik.com

Speaking of which, this weekend I finished reading The Whole Truth about the Planet Ksi, written by Janusz Zajdel, a prominent Polish sci-fi and dystopian writer. Recently, I’ve written about his short story collection The Farewell Letter. For those who may not know, let me briefly remind you, that this author was a important figure among Polish sci-fi writers, helped and cared about younger writers a lot.

Having worked in radiology safety and as a university professor, he tried to combine or even balance the fictional part of science fiction with scientific facts and rational logic. Zajdel‘s dystopian works reflected his criticism of the Polish socialistic reality of his life, and also the way any propaganda fogs people’s minds. He died of lung cancer at the considerably young age of 46.

Speaking of The Whole Truth About the Planet Ksi, it is mostly a dystopian novel with some sci-fi elements (transplanetary travel and colonization of other planets than Earth). It revolves around the ideas of how totalitarian societies are created and why they thrive even if people suffer. Lies are a better basis for creating such societies because lies are flexible, and truths are often stiff and inconvenient. If you provide people with some outside enemy, the people will be connected, trusting, and praising the tyrants as their only protectors.

The story unfolds through two perspectives: one is an expedition head, Sloth, who was sent to check what was going on with the group of colonists sent to planet Ksi, and the second perspective is that of the original colonization group’s captain, whom we know as 11, or great grandfather.

Sloth is neutral, rational, and quite mature. He values the years that are left to him, remembers totalitarian societies on Earth, and does not rush into decisions or quick actions. He prefers the marveled eyes of women to any political power, giving us the impression that we can trust him.

On the contrary, 11 has lots of dishonest desires and unhealthy ambitions, betrayed his friends, enemies, and people of this globe several times, and actually helped terrorists establish this totalitarian, even feudal, society, where your rank is based on the number tattooed on your forehead. This makes readers doubt his perspective on things; still, he was the one who saw everything from the very beginning.

The author of the book does not force an opinion on you; you may choose what to think of the main character and even of the future destiny of the planet Ksi. When the second expedition arrives to spy on the Ksi’s society, they also are not sure of their next course of action regarding this society. They want to help, but they are unsure of how to do it without turning out as alien conquerors who took away the last straw of hope from this planet’s population.

And I really appreciate this approach, this conversational, theorizing way which lets us, readers, decide for ourselves. The language is descriptive, the protagonists are multi-dimensional, and their emotions are genuine. Readers can empathize with their doubts, turmoil, and longings

The society, though a bit caricatured, actually reminds us of the ones we have on Earth, and the author precisely demonstrates how they function. Yes, something like this, theoretically speaking, may have appeared in space at the early stages of colonizing. Well, such states are and were here, near us on Earth.

However, I had uncertainties while reading the book. For instance, how did people age in space in this book? I thought that outside Earth’s gravity we remain unaffected by the flow of time (perhaps someone with a physics background can explain this to me). Another moment: planet Ksi had only a 16-hour-long day, I get it. However, human biological hours should still remain 24… Am I right?

Additionally, the first generation of colonists was deprived of technology, which is understandable, but couldn’t they hunt with some handmade primitive tools? I believe J. Zajdel had explanations for that, but unfortunately, it is unlikely I will ever ask him…

Overall, I took great pleasure in reading this compelling dystopian novel. It broadens your perspective and encourages you to think, speculate, come up with your own choices and solutions. And prompts us to analyze the roots of various social issues and the ways many modern totalitarian societies function and continue to develop.

The Whole Truth about the Planet Ksi reminds me a bit of Eden by S. Lem, so if you are a fan of those authors or you really enjoy reading dystopian prose, it may be a great pick for you😊

Thank you for reading this and I hope I’ve answered this prompt!

If you are interested in my readings and sessions (see the examples here), please take a look at my offer 🙂

June 17, 2024 13

🕯️Call of Destiny: Omens And Dreams (Part One) 〰Fantasy Story by MarvellousNightmare 〰 Aridia Cycle📜

Part Two
Part Three

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination.

‘It’s hot as in Rogterr’s fire palace,’ Agenit muttered wearily, lazily untying his scarlet ceremonial robe, embroidered with golden patterns and the speckles of the sun stone, and carelessly throwing it on the floor. Such a simple gesture, but it expressed all that he thought or felt about the priesthood. Dressed in simple pants and a linen shirt now, no one would ever discern him from some potter or carpenter from the town. The man wiped his forehead with a relieved sigh. He was himself at last.

The room’s air was motionless and stuffy, and the heat intensified with each second. Slanting sun rays fell through the narrow window, as if burning through the floor and the opposite wall in brilliant torrents of smoldering light.

Agenit was a gifted and skilled fire priest, so heat was but a temporary nuisance for him, as he knew how to adjust his body to high temperatures. He could absorb the blazing heat and replenish his depleted magical reserves, which he hastened to do.

The priest sat down in a pool of light, with his eyes closed, and took several deep breaths. He could shift his state of consciousness almost instantaneously, and in a few minutes, his mind became entirely entranced.

Agenit’s inner fire was burning strong. What was the outer elemental flame flame, but a reflection of his inner one? What was his inner blaze if not part of the universal one? The scorching heat grew more intense, burning and causing pain, until it ceased to exist. Now, only one fire remained, just oneness, unity, and connection. And it became expressed in blazing, dynamic, smoldering brilliance, which was engulfing his mind, and eliminating all idle thoughts, his separate sense of “Self.”

As soon as it was achieved, the energy from the larger, natural element replenished his inner reserves, cleansing, reviving, and incinerating his doubts and fatigue. And then only the loud pounds of the heart remained, and as soon as they went silent, the priest opened his eyes.

It was much better now, and after a while the man jumped to his feet. Sure thing, he was a child of fire, a son of mighty Rogterr… At least all priests of this deity called themselves so.

Nonetheless… As a human being, he appreciated the mild coolness of the wind and soothing touch of the water, their delicate, soft caresses… Sometimes, Agenit simply missed the sea, the cold, repeating rhythm of waves crashing at the shore, the thick, mysterious, dark passages of the pine wood that always gave him shelter and a place to play when he was a boy… Before they brought him to the temple and made him accept these wretched vows…

The birds’ melodic chirping and the relaxing stillness of the room suddenly became shattered, drowned in the sound of a passionate foreign song coming from the town’s central square. String music was electrified with drama and expressiveness, full of intensive and clear power. It was so distinct and overwhelming, as if it were everywhere, ubiquitous and entrancing.

The female voice seemed to reach out to him, imploring, seducing, and enchanting him to leave this life behind to follow this mysterious temptress from overseas wherever she might go.

Awe-stricken, the hypnotized man looked out of the window.

He could observe from afar the crowd gathering around the musicians, swaying, gazing, mesmerized, bound to every word, every sound of this pure sorcery… And he found himself as if anchored by the window, looking, hoping, longing… Until the sudden silence filled the space again.

The crowd cheered, clapping. The whole commotion was so contrastingly unrhyming, rude… even primitive in comparison to the melodic wonder he experienced a second ago, that he felt deceived and all at once irritated.

‘Don’t they have any other work to do?’ the man winced, slightly envious.

Anyway, this musical magic disrupted the natural rhythm of his day. Agenit shook his head, trying to concentrate on his thoughts.

Even from a distance, he could discern the figure of the singer: a slender woman with darker complexion, her long dark hair flapping against the wind. She resembled a vivid, colorful tropical bird, strayed away from the forest by some awful mistake and now cornered by a gaping, cheering, dancing crowd, as if caught in a vibrant net…

What wouldn’t he give to stroll among them in broad daylight, to be free, released from the solemn walls of the sacred temple, unrestrained by the dogmas and oaths? To escape the pretenses and make-beliefs of the priesthood, which always lost their power as quickly as no one seemed to be watching. Lies charged with idle glances and contemptuous talks.

At least, why should he pretend? Agenit often ran away disguised at night, when all other priests seemed firmly asleep in their beds. He climbed down the quarters’ wall, then usually jumped over the fence – thin, delicately wrought, interlaced with golden ivy that burned like hell when touched with bare skin…

Come on! Could this southern stinging plant prevent him from escaping? It only scared nine-year-old neophytes just accepted into the temple, still believing, full of shock and wonder.

Later on, the man normally hastened down the crowded streets, drinking the finest wines, savoring delicious food in the company of music and laughter in some shady corner taverns. And he enjoyed life there until soft haziness overcame him.

In addition, he always found reason to fight with a drunken opponent, victoriously showing off his sword skills and magical excellence. The round of applause and shiny female glances were fitting rewards in dangerous endeavors. And then… The pale moons, glistening stars, and whispering sea waves kept their secrets well.

In short, Agenit had blazing, scorching blood in his veins; the flames of passion surged through his soul, making it simply impossible for him to be pacified, restrained, and confined within the paper-rolls of sacred texts and dusty temple walls. He wanted, craved, and was obsessed with freedom. A true child of fire was he…

〰〰〰〰〰〰

Ok, I did it! This story is based on my novel, which currently exists in my head only 😀

I decided to give it a try; otherwise, I guess I’ll never write it. Let me know what you think, and whether it is better with pictures (all generated by me in WP AI Picture generator) or without.

Thanks for reading and enjoy! 💜

If you are interested in my readings and sessions (see the examples here), please take a look at my offer 🙂

June 13, 2024 31

Forlorn Town’s Mysteries (Short Story)

Literature Wednesday is here, so, as promised…

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination, partly inspired by a family trip.

Forlorn cities, towns, and villages, you preserve the history, the very spirit of authentic life before globalization unified it all in unrecognizable masses. The uniqueness of each place is so earnestly and strikingly breathtaking; these places still have their souls.

As it was in this case: no traffic, no crowded streets, no identical distant, glimmering buildings forged from glass and metal, only short, squatted red brick and wooden ones… Their boarded windows resembled firmly shut eyes, as if these houses were sleeping, waiting for the old tenants to return eventually under their leaky roofs. The 19th-century air is mingled with ’80s nostalgia, together weaving an atmosphere of sweet longing and suspense.

Old cars and decrepit shops were gaping at us with their dark windows, plaster stone angels on the corners of the antique buildings would probably fly away if not for broken wings or limbs. The playgrounds were iron and rusty, but to our surprise, we noticed a couple of kids hanging out there. They didn’t play or climb anything though; they were sitting and watching us intently with their large solemn eyes. These children were like little guardians of a dark mystery buried deep in the heart of this town, and their task was to keep an eye on us, making sure we wouldn’t discover more than allowed.

It was an uncanny thought, but my chaotic, ever-active mind soon jumped to feeling bewitched again by the slow pace and the intricate charm of this place. Historic houses, antique lives, enchanting ruins – all these things heightened my inspiration. The nostalgic wind carried the delightful fragrance of the cherry blossoms, playfully tearing their petals, and thus creating the pearly blizzard so reminiscent of the winter snow.

The ruins are the most charming when adorned with fresh flowers and greenery, for what is this scenery if not the love embrace of life and death?

Continue reading →

May 1, 2024 7

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

Daily writing prompt

What book could you read over and over again?

View all responses

I adore reading books. I read daily, usually several books in a row, in different languages, so that I develop not only my mind but also my linguistic skills. For me, personally, in order to be engaging, a story or a novel must be thought-provoking, elegantly written (I value the most “lacy”, melodic, metaphoric language, but not earthy or palpable, more like the descriptions conveyed in a pure dream matter), and dystopian at its best.

Frankly speaking, I’m not a fan of realistic prose, although I make exceptions for J. Fowles – whose books I read and reread several times, not only The Magus, I also find his other pieces exceptional. I admire V. Nabokov‘s books: he wrote so much more than Lolita; for instance, my favorite among his novels is Gift. I’ve enjoyed L. Durrell‘s The Alexandria Quartet as well. Additionally, I appreciated F. Dostoevsky‘s novels. Finally, I found Brontë sisters‘ prose and Tess of the d’Urbervilles by T. Hardy intriguing and bewitching.

Nonetheless, I find the most delight in reading fantastic fiction: sci-fi, dystopian, fantasy, horror stories and gothic novels. These genres match my inner world perfectly; I enjoy the atmosphere, and I feel that my mind works hard and speculates while reading. I relish this feeling: it’s as if my brain purred, like a happy and well-nourished cat.

Take R. D. Bradbury: one of the most prolific fiction authors, most known for his dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451. Apart for that, he wrote in multiple genres, including sci-fi, fantasy, horror and detective fiction. I find each of his works exceptional; he is a genius in crafting narrative line, poetic, mesmerizing language, and of course, philosophical depth. I believe, his stories, novel and essays are the epitome of everything a literature should be, and I aspire to be like him, honestly. I even wrote my thesis based on one of his short stories, which involved reading it over and over again 😉

But it’s not only Bradbury I’ve read more than once, I’ve also delved into the books of F. Herbert, A. Huxley, H. Lovecraft, A. Norton, U. Le Guin, K. Vonnegut, R. L. Stevenson, A. Blackwood, C. P. Gilman, J. Sheridan Le Fanu, and many more… I took pleasure in reading some of P. K. Dick novels, thus I’ll probably read them again.
Let’s also not forget C. Jung, I. Regardie and A. Podvodny, their works taught me a lot and shaped my worldview in many respects.
Speaking of religious literature, my favorites include the Poetic Edda (Norse tradition) and Ecclesiastes (The Bible).

Nevertheless, even though R Bradbury is my favorite writer, there is a novel that, in my opinion, is a triumph of literary perfection. This is Solaris by S. Lem. He is an author of contrasts; his novels are either phenomenal, or just hardly legible.

However, I’m truly amazed by Solaris. This book is composed of every literary feature I praise, along with a bittersweet note of romance, which in this case make the narrative even better. It is reflective, captivating, the language it is written in is a marvel. It leaves so many questions for a reader to ponder upon! It was almost impossible for me to break its spell and stop reading, even for a short while. And when I finished the book finally, I started it over in an instant. I definitely want to dive in this story again, to re-explore and re-live every bit of it. It’s a miracle.

If you are into thought-provoking prose combined with sci-fi elements, I strongly advise you to read it 🙂

April 8, 2024 5

False Memories (Part 4)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

I woke up in the middle of the night, full of unease. I checked the time: it was 3 am. I fell back on the pillow, but my nerves were strangely strained, so I couldn’t relax. Something was off all the time: the pillow was uncomfortable, my heart was pounding loudly, I heard muffled noises and movements behind the walls and the door. The very air was filled with a menacing presence.

First, I tried to calm myself down, to promise myself to visit the psychiatrist – it didn’t matter how angry I was at Desi, maybe she was right. I must do something with my rich imagination because it was out of bounds to the extent it wasn’t safe for me… I shut my eyelids firmly with an intent to fall back asleep and tried to steady my breath and feel the heaviness of my body, though still, everything about this quiet, moonlit room was disturbing. I felt as if someone was watching me, observing carefully, hatefully, hungrily… I pulled the blanket overhead, trying to drape myself in the warm darkness, to lull my thoughts, to trick my tired brain back into sleeping. Instead, I caught myself concentrating on the leaves I left at my friend’s kitchen, my thoughts instantly full of crimson and gold. Next, I was fixed at how she drummed with her fingers on the table when I asked for her opinion. I suddenly became infuriated at Desi all over again: she never actually knew me! That girl pretended to be some kind of guru when it came to people, but she never saw their true essence. Her constant gossiping is built of classifying, labeling and judging. Why did I even go for Desi’s help if all she knew about me was her assumptions and conjectures? People called that “friendship”? Seriously?!

Continue reading →

March 29, 2024 15

False Memories (Part 3)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

Three weeks had passed since the moment I had this dream. On the surface, life went on as usual: the unchanging routine, the same duties, the repeated actions at a constant pace and at an invariable time. I escaped from the mundane reality on my lonely immersive walks accompanied by music; I needed these shots of euphoria and freedom to keep myself from slipping into insanity, yet I was pretty close to it: drowning deeper and deeper in the bottomless sea of darkness, day after day, hour after hour, second after second.

First and foremost, I had these dreams full of eerie, unsettling, and absolutely obscene scenes. Seriously, I think that no one in their sane mind could dream of something that disturbing, definitely not unless they had watched a pile of sick, deviant horrors right before falling asleep. The worst thing about them was that they were very vivid, very personal, like memories.

Every night, I dreamed or perhaps even participated in deeds that went beyond the forbidden, but there was a touch of ancient mystery to that. What is more, something instinctive, dark, and almost primal filled these rituals. The fact that those things were acceptable in the wild made them innate and sacred for us.

Continue reading →

March 25, 2024 5

False Memories (Part 1)

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

I guess it all began the moment I slammed the door loudly, causing the tiny rivers and streams of stone dust and chalk to run down onto the floor. I quickly scrutinized the tiny crevices and cracks around the doorframe – eternal remnants of my mood swings and our bitter quarrels… I ran down the steps diving into the silver moonlight that stole all the colors of this world except for black and white…

I could discern the catlike silhouettes in the silver slits of windows. All the voices from different flats were mixed and united in one preaching chorus, and all the graffities and scribbles that casually adorned the staircase during the day now were turned into magical patterns and figures. Like cavemen, we continue on and on to mark our achievements, wishes and feelings, etching them deep into the wall.

The entrance door swung open, welcoming the wet, damp wind to fill the darkness. A few rare cool drops of rain fell on my face, mingling and mixing with tears, calming me, reviving and suddenly filling everything with a sense of hope again. I went out, looking up at the sky and breathing deeply, trying to regain composure. My jacket was unzipped carelessly, my strides were long and bold… It was an attempt to become one with the wind, one with the coming storm, to cast off all formalities, reject the laws of physics, and fly over the earth in elemental fury.

A burning array of yellow windows was outlined brightly against the gray carcasses of the buildings, almost indiscernible in the surrounding darkness… I wish I could say the same about the drunken crowd of people, who were shouting and cursing loudly, while checking out the surroundings with an immense hunger for destruction. So I halted for a moment, praying to become invisible.

Continue reading →

March 12, 2024 14