Last wish
- Reads 12
- Votes 1
- Parts 2
Ongoing16m
Last published Fri, Jun 29, 2018
"Ultima dorință înainte să mori trebuie sa fie una specială. Pe care să o iei cu tine. Sau să o lași cuiva amintire. Atât de specială încât, atunci când tu pleci, ea va rămâne, alinând sufletul pe care l-ai lăsat în urmă, pustiu. Încălzindu-l seara, atunci când pătura nu o mai poate face. Când parfumul tău se va șterge, când lumea o să înceteze să te mai caute din priviri prin mulțime. Poți rămâne o amintire. Sau poți rămâne prezent în mintea și inima cuiva pentru totdeauna. Câte nopți îți va lua să numeri stelele, atât va dura să te uite acel suflet pe care tu ai decis să îl părăsești, iar atunci nu va mai rămâne nimic, doar amintirea ta."
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Echo of the Past
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.Complete!["My Little Monster~"|| Selever X Reader [DISCONTINUED]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/268673945-256-k202187.jpg)
"My Little Monster~"|| Selever X Reader [DISCONTINUED]
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𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚 • 𝐵𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑊𝑖𝑛 (𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗱)
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The Sadistic Pair (Karma x Reader) - Discontinued
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Scholar
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Word Of Action!✔️
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I Became The Villain's Secretary
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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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