Most writers think before they write, but isn't it better to let your emotions and unconscious mind take control over what you're writing?
This is a compilation of some of my poems and short stories, of which most have some kind of art acompanying t...
He was sitting in the backalley he called his home, just as he always was. Following the same old routine, the same old thoughts haunting his mind.
Society thought lowly of him. Born an illegitimate child, both his father and his mother had abandoned him. Forced to take care of himself all along, he's always been distant, avoiding anyone who could hurt him even more than he had already been. Yet, the manipulative ways of the human reached even him, scarring him further. Scars deeper than the eye could ever see.
The streetlights were the only source of light, for the night sky was as dark as the intents of the people lurking on the streets this late at night. Not even a single star, let alone the moon, dared have a look through the clouds, hiding themselves from the longing looks of the people not worthy of them. The people's hearts were but hollow proxies for what was meant to make their life worth living. Proxies for what made his life this harrowing. Why were they able to turn off their emotions, turn off their fears, their troubles? Where was the difference between them and him, who hadn't ever done anything wrong? Who hadn't ever had the choice. Ever had a single chance.
He stood up. Trying to rid himself of the thoughts destroying what was left of him, he decided to become one with the crowd and act the same as them. The same as everyone else. As if he was part of what they called society. It began to rain and the streets became emptier, while the shops, filled with the smell of coffee and herbs, began to fill. Knowing he wouldn't be welcome in any of them, he kept walking. He was used to rain, used to the cold it brought with it. However, the wet and the cold were more bearable than the cold his loneliness caused. His heart was aching for being loved at least once in his life. Aching to not feel this constant pain at least once, but he'd never be good enough. Society's standards were too high for an outsider like him to get a piece of the cake. Everything was meant for the ones in control, the ones stronger, the ones better. Noone cared for lowlife like him. The world simply was too much of a cruel place and the stars couldn't ever be rewritten. Nothing would ever be in his favor.
Yet, what was this sudden feeling of warmth? He looked up to the sky, the rain hitting his face. The clouds had lifted a little and a single star shone on him, a single hopeful light. By now, he was wet to his bones, but he continued to just stay there and admire the star showing itself to him. Eventually, he got knocked over, his head hitting the ground hard enough for him to only see everything blurry anymore. The silhouette of a hand drew closer and the voice of a young girl spoke out to him. "Everything okay?" He took her hand, grateful for the help offered to him, even if she was the one to have caused the need for help in the first place. "Yes, it's probably just gonna be another scratch.", he answered, a smile starting to spread on his face. He continued: "Shouldn't a young girl such as yourself be in bed at this hour? It's dangerous out here at night and you'll probably catch a cold, staying out in this rain." A quiet sob escaped her, as she let go of his hand. His view slowly started clearing up again, allowing him to see the girl before him. She wasn't much smaller than him, but her round face made her look young, fitting the highpitched voice.
Then, he had a closer look at that petite, almost fragile body of hers. She was covered in bruises and scars, her clothes torn and her hair was all over the place. This surely hadn't been her first night outside and whatever had been done to her wasn't the proper way to handle a child. Never. "Did you run away from home, little one?" She nodded, heavily shivering and her eyes colored red from all of her crying. He wanted to help her, but he didn't have a warm place to stay either. What could he do for this girl, who had met a fate as cruel as his, lead to by what society called righteous? By what had already destroyed so many lives. He despaired. "Let's search for a warmer place, now shall we?" She simply nodded again, taking his hand once more and getting close to him, close to the warmth he emanated. Even if it was barely any warmth at all, it meant safety to her.
The rain had long stopped, but they still were as wet as before, all of their clothes drenched in the dirty water of the city. They had walked for hours and the sun had already set, when they reached an abandoned part of the city. The houses were old and already falling apart, some only consisting of single walls anymore. Even if it wasn't quite what one would have imagined as a place worthy of being called home, the two couldn't have been happier to finally have the chance to start anew, the chance to live their lives. The first chance ever.
They were sitting side by side in the rundown house they had made their home. Thinking of nothing at all but the comfort they were finally able to feel. The fireplace right in front of them lighting up their small room and emanating a warmth they hadn't felt in forever.
━━━━･ ❪ ❦ ❫ ･━━━━
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
