My Short Stories

Subjectivity

(A/N) This is probably my favorite "story" I've written so far. It's a very philosophical view point and one I wholeheartedly agree with (hence why I wrote it lmao). I hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to give feedback :) (that goes for any of my stories!! i love hearing what others have to say!)
POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: brief mention of blood, war

   The sun shone through the lace curtains, just enough to create a reflection of light on the adjacent wall.

   The room wasn't necessarily small or large, just big enough to house a writing desk, rocking chair, and a long but short bookshelf opposite the former. The window hung on the wall opposite the door so that every evening, dusk would peek its way through the delicate fabric and onto some papers sitting peacefully on the desk.

   The object's shadow was cast over the bookshelf, the hilt leaning ever-so-gently against the wall. It was an object thought to be inherently violent; none of the accusers are wrong. This one in particular had sliced through flesh and pierced many a heart. It was used to take lives as if they were its own, but it was used to simultaneously save the lives of those whom its handler deemed worthy.

   The object in itself is not at fault, not should it be praised; it has not chosen sides, as many who have faced its blade would be led to think. It has not chosen justice, nor has it chosen malice. It simply is. It was created with the intention of both, but the forger saw it as neither; the forger saw it as a work of art, and that it is.

   It is an object of peace and of war, of justice and of malice, and an object of art. Many who would walk into the room that houses this item would examine it and exclaim its beauty; how the blade casts reflections around the walls, and how the silver hilt leaves rainbow butterflies scattered about, save for the bright star in the center. However, some who would walk into this room would shiver in remembrance of the lives who have fallen victim to such an item. A rare few would even scoff at the idea that such an item could be capable of creating such chaos, despite nearly hovering a finger over its sharpened blade and drawing blood.

   The owner of this prestigious creation commonly derives inspiration from it; they may not write about it or illustrate it in all of their works, but they always have it on their mind, whether it be the shining red gem on its hilt inspiring a red flame to warm oneself by or the reflection of one's own soul through the polished metal. The first thought that comes to mind when one looks into the blade may be somewhat of a tell in itself, depending on if the viewer thinks of their own appearance, their turmoil, war, fantasy, or is perhaps thankful to their Savior that they do not at this time need to partake in what may be the worst or last part of their earthly life.

   Beauty can be found in many items such as this, yet so can destruction and sorrow. It all depends on who is viewing it.

~

(A/N) Well there it is! Thank you so much for reading! I absolutely loved writing this and I know that Freud would have a FIELD DAY with this piece 😂 Have a wonderful day!

-Wil