Caged   //Larry Stylinson

Caged //Larry Stylinson

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WpMetadataNoticeपिछला प्रकाशन शुक्र, फ़र 21, 2014
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Everything was going so well. We managed to steal looks in interviews and pretend to whisper on stage. we could talk and laugh and flirt right in front of the cameras, because that's all we ever wanted to do. We wanted to tell the world about our love. we wanted to show all the teenagers who lost hope that love exists, that it really does. And when you have it, it is the most beautiful thing in the world. it is your world. But today, my world got taken away from me. My feet were left with nothing to stand on. but I'm fighting. I'm fighting through this zombie apocalypse, where Modest are the zombies.
सभी अधिकार सुरक्षित
सबसे बड़े स्टोरी-टेलिंग समुदाय में शामिल होंवैयक्तिकृत कहानी अनुशंसाएं प्राप्त करें, अपनी पसंदीदा कहानियाँ अपनी लाइब्रेरी में सहेजें, और अपना समुदाय बढ़ाने के लिए टिप्पणी और वोट करें।
Illustration

आपको शायद ये भी पसंद आएँगे

  • Echo of the Past
  • Immortal Hearts
  • My Past Mate Rejected Me
  • Goodbye for now || n.h
  • Never Ending Lies ✔️
  • Just one last breath
  • Sanity
  • Jesse's Redemption (manxman /werewolf || #lgbt)
  • The Redemption of Maximus
  • Mated

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

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