Contos Mundanos

Contos Mundanos

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Nov 29, 2019
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Fiction
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Vaguear por esses campos me fez perceber o quão incerto é a nossa existência. A única certeza que temos é a morte. Ah, a doce Morte. Sinto que já tivemos laços de sangue. Por enquanto, a vida não tem um sentido para mim, mas, para ela, há um único sentido: a morte. Os acontecimentos e a incerteza da vida nos fazem temer a morte, nos fazem valorizar a vida. Para a Morte, a morte é o começo de uma vida longe de toda essa sujeira. A sujeira mundana. Todos os créditos a: PamBae. Erick Almeida.
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"One body: A death, a suicide, and now a murder. Lunacy is settling over, leaving its fingerprints on them, while breathing down their necks. The warm kiss of air is mistaken for nothing but a midnight breeze, and finger prints not much more than dirt. "Are you worthy enough, huh? Do you think I'm such a fool? You'll die there. Ashton Kahn. Mark my words. You are going to die and your family is going to live a dead life. You know what grief is? Of course, why would YOU know? You haven't been miserable for once in your life, have you? You have always been the super-star, haven't you? Of course you'll die. You deserve nothing but a deadly, rotten grave. You are such a chick, aren't you? Huh. I hate you Ashton Kahn. You are so mean. You think wealth is the world. You think beauty is the world. Don't you find having the best muscles, having the best grades, having the perfect eyes, having the perfect clothes, shoes-" Her words were so powerful, her expression meaner. She meant it. And how right she was. There I was, living a beautiful life. Of course I had no idea what misery is. I'd never been miserable for a second. Hah. She was giving me a lesson. The feeling was so intense, her words ruling my brain, empowering my veins. I was so useless. Have I ever cried? Have I ever thought why people say Life is just a Lie? Did I ever care why was the guy behind the coffee shop shutters crying? Did I ever gave it a second thought what did that guy felt when I called him Bozo? Or what was going on with that girl I heard of whose parents died a day ago? Of course, what was I capable of feeling? And there I had always thought I was the perfect me. The boy who could do anything. The boy who ruled. The boy who lived. Life is just a Lie. And for the first time in ever, I felt it to be so, so real. The reality of this was ever-awakening, it's power would have killed a soul. Life is just a Lie.

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