Et Cetera
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WpMetadataReadContenido adultoContinúa13m
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación mié, mar 16, 2016
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Ficción
Romance
Just when you think it's all over... the story has ended, the words are final. Just when you think there isn't any continuation you find your little et cetera. You find that little something extra that keeps you going. You find that somebody who gives you every reason to live. You find that person who fills your lungs with air and breathes for you. Remi They always told her not to bring work home. She couldn't be like everyone else. She couldn't leave her heart in the locker and get it back at the end of the day. She couldn't detach herself from her emotions. Struggling with what she has seen and what she has lost, Remi finds herself stuck in a bottomless pit of guilt and blame. Detached from the people around her, Remi is in a constant loop replaying the day when she made that one mistake that would cost more than just her mental sanity. Max "Don't let it get to your head," they told him. He isn't even sure what is true in his own mind anymore. What is real and what is a figment of his imagination? Grasping for a sense of reality in his delusions, Max isolates himself from the world and allows himself to decay. He closes his eyes and sees the world through a kaleidoscope. No more anger, no more sorrow... only colours and dreams that no one can touch or poison. They surely thought their lives were over, the story is finished. Little did they know that they would be each others et cetera at the end of their sentences.
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Strands of your mind cling together like web to a slippery leaf bathed in the morning dew. You have seen both heaven and hell, witnessed the atrocities of war firsthand, and imagined a better life in the deepest, most intimate corners of your dreaming spirit. The wishes for peace and certainty you have once so desperately longed for, now lay trampled underneath the might of your mind's vivid horrors. What was once so bright and lively, now cowers in fear, clinging to gone memories like a shipwreck survivor to some lowly piece of driftwood. From the depths of hell, you arrived victorious, grasping the laurel wreath high above your head. Unrecognizable, with your empty eyes telling a story of innocence brutally taken away from the child curling in shame in the depths of your empty soul. Almost green you are, curly head, having grown up with a rifle by your bedside table, never knowing peace and quiet. Out of the pan that was the Kazdel Civil War and into the scorching flames of Lungmen, where life flows by on its own accord, here, you must learn to live once more. So put on your best facade, Let the reuniting trumpets ring a wild, And allow the city to swallow you whole. Here we are, a continuation of my previous work "Goodbye Curly Head", which sprawled into quite the epistle (but it wasn't really a letter, it's just long :P). Summarized in the most basic way possible, it's a story about a twenty-year-old Kazdel Civil War veteran who goes to Lungmen and has some troubles acclimating to the steady life presented before him. Sprinkle in a too-good-to-be-true offer and a freshly established logistics company, and you get Andy trying to make it big for as long as his deteriorating mental state lets him. I'd say it works as a standalone story for anyone who doesn't want to bother reading the first part. For now, at least. As always, please, pwwease leave a comment, positive, negative, I LOOOVE reading and replying to comments!!

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