Run Away Reader
- Reads 140
- Votes 6
- Parts 4
Ongoing11m
Last published Sun, Dec 20, 2015
I'm just a teenager who deals with mental and physical turmoil both at school and home. Please don't think of me differently because of this. I don't want anyone's pity. I don't need your help either. I have my own escape like weak prey have their escape from a strong predator. Reading is my escape. Reading is my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author's words reverberating in your head. Through books, I can be whoever I want. I could fall in love with the handsome prince, travel to exotic places, and take the leap that almost always has a happy ending.
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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
Staying Strong
Sick of crying, tired of trying, yes I'm smiling but inside I'm dying.Complete
Drake's Kitten (completed)
He once told me no one knows the real him.I didn't think he meant it, and not in a good way. He is a straight A student, and everyone knows it, not to mention he is on the swim team. All that though isn't the real him, the real him hides deep within himself. ---------- "Can you please tell me what that was?" I nearly shout at him. All I get is silence. He keeps his back to me. "Please, I need some explanation." I beg. I stay still as he stops dead in his tracks. His body is tense and it's scarring me. He turns around slowly to face me with his hands at his sides. His eyes meet mine, but there is no spark of any emotion in them. They are cold and dark making me look away not being able to hold his deadly stare. I feel uneasy under his gaze, and i feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face. "No, I won't explain because it's not important." He says in a low, almost, growl. I flinch and look back into his eyes. I feel hurt by his words and I don't know why, but I know he sees it in my eyes. His faces flashes with regret but it's quickly covered up with his faces going back to it's hard cold look. I feel my heart stop and my face go pale. His look terrified me making me hold my breath. "Breath." He orders. I start to breathe again and just blink at him. "Now go." He orders me again. I flinch involuntarily at his tone and jump back slightly. "Please don't let me walk home alone." I beg in a quiet voice, looking down at my feet. The next thing I see are his black combat boots right in front of my shoes. I look up into his eyes and he looks down into mine confusion written all over his face. "How come you aren't running yet?" He questions searching my eyes. "I just can't walk home alone, please I'm scared." I hear him chuckle. "You aren't afraid of me? What can possibly be scarier than me?" He asks. "Well, I know you will keep me safe." "Why is that?" He questions raising an eyebrow at me. "You haven't hurt me." "Yet." He mutters, but I roll my eyes.Complete
Anastasia
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Twisted
"I think I'm gay." I say, leaving out the part about my... exposing dream about him last night. I watched his expression, waiting for some sign that he was angry. I waited for him to call me a faggot, to curse me off and tell me he never wanted to see me again. Instead, I was greeted with his perfect toothy smile. "That's great man, I'm of proud you." He says, patting my arm as he stuffed another cracker in his mouth. "It takes some real balls to come out to someone." He says, his beautiful green eyes blazing into mine. I felt myself become flustered at his gaze. "Uh, Yeah, Thanks." I stumbled out, "You're not mad?" I ask. His expression turns to hurt as he crinkles his eyebrows. "Why the hell would I be mad?" He asks, hesitating on the crackers and pushing them away. "I just thought-it's just- well... you just always seem so pissed when someone mentions the word gay." I spit out words, scared for his reaction. He sighs, "That doesn't fucking mean I hate gays. Normally when I do that it's because someone's using the word 'gay' to hate on them, it just pisses me off, you know?" He asks, bringing the crackers back into his lap and biting into them. "Plus-" He adds on, "You're my best friend, if anything, you being gay is a blessing. I'll always support you." He says, glancing at me through the side of his eyes. I look away, towards the door to hide the crimson blush that I feel spread over my face. "Thanks." I all but squeak out. And that's the day I realized, I have a faint crush on my best friend. <><><><><< THIS BOOK IS BEING *MAJORLY* EDITED. THERES LOTS OF SPELLING MISTAKES AND NAME MIX UPS, SOME CHAPTERS WILL BE REWRITTEN Also, Please don't be mean to the characters, they aren't even close to perfect, but they don't deserve hate.Complete
Infinity x The World
Warning: this book's focus is drawn to a character who hints themes of depression and self-harm. The idea of the story is to present the experience of learning to understand and comfort someone through these struggles. So while these themes are contained within a comical styled story, they are still present so please be mindful of that before you read on. You. You're just a normal girl. A normal girl with a normal life... until you meet the boy with blue hair... Name: unknown Age: unknown Human? Unknown How can someone live a life without anyone knowing of their existence? You don't know. But you want too. Determination fills you with a desire to seek more about this boy. There's just something about him that makes you want to know more. He meets your eye. Is a name really too much to ask? He refuses to give you one. If you keep investigating, you'll get hurt. You'll be killed. You'll regret it. It's not a warning. It's simply the truth. You've been noticing strange things going on. He's not in any records. A shotgun fire?! He has wounds that heal all too quickly. How can a boy get shot and heal by the very next day? You want to know, don't you? Then simply allow your mind to go wondering into this book and discover the secrets behind the boy who no one knows. (This book is a representation of my experiences with dating someone with depression in high school. I wrote it while we were dating, subconsciously writing him into the character Infinity. I will say that I intend to rewrite this at some point to send a better message, as I feel some of the actions in this book are unhealthy reactions to depression, that I have a much better perspective of now) [I'm also working on a VN based on this story.... If my studies would stop getting in the way]Complete
SYSTEM:TWISTED LOVE INTEREST CANNON FODDER.
"You are too overpowered. Your existence poses a great threat to my son and daughter of fate. I had no other choice but to kill you." This was the voice of God he heard when he was about to enter the door of death. "A tragic oped character, sigh, its a very popular trend right now. The normal cliche of losing all your loved ones, an illegitimate son of a noble household, possessing overwhelming magic, good looks and what not. But as I kept writing I realised I made you way too oped, to the point your existence became a threat to the plot." The voice of god spoke to him again. "...Are you the one who killed my family?" He asked back with a blank expression. "Yes." Spoke the voice again. This simple one sentence angered him to the point he fought harder against his predestined death. He was enraged. The death of his family was orchestrated by this damn god, his life made miserable and painful, so he had to rise again, back on his two feets so he could destroy the god's world. And so he did. He rose again, defeating his death. Then he had his revenge by almost destroying the world. Almost!!! Before he could lead to the death of the Male and the female lead a thing called system was bounded to his soul. He was forced to leave his world and enter many different worlds. "Well, Unfreeze the OOC!" He demanded with a malicious grin on his face. He had to have his revenge. But most important of all, he had to be the one incharge of his characters. "......." The system shivered at his words, its invisible eyes bulging out. Unbeknownst to him, a GOD had embarked on a journey to a portal of unknown origin right at the time when he was entering a new world. "Oh fuck!" He cursed as he realised a dangerous point. "This is not the protagonist! Who is he?" Novel cover: Drawn by me aka @pushisinung.Complete
The Journey... (A true Story)
"I can't do this anymore; I just can't!" A line said in almost every individual's life. We all at one stage in our life dealt with such pain; where dying is easier then living. But, it's all a rollarcoaster that we have to fight through. I was once a shy, scared and sad little girl and now I'm a confident, compassionate and cheerful young lady. But, I wasn't always like this; at many stages I was extremely depressed. I know this seems like the stereotypical teenager's story but it was something much much more. Give my story a read and lets ride the rollarcoaster together. You never truly know what can impact you the most. It could be a book or even another person. Never close yourself off to be alone because you're shutting yourself from the beautiful world we live in together. Expect the unexpected and always reach for the stars. I hope you guys ride along and we can over come any scenario together as one.Complete
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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