Crowds, body heat, vivid colours.
It’s not Narnia, but it’s the closest to portaling to
All clustered into one city.
There’s no escape.
Why do I want to
escape? I belong here.
It’s just physical, not virtual.
I see my friend.
I walk up, my veins burning.
“Hi, can I take a picture?” I ask Wolverine.
Sad. Aloof. Anti-social. Selfish. Shy.
She loves to read. Nerd. How boring.
Why is she nervous? Why doesn’t she talk?
Why is she avoiding others?
Fine, I’ll just leave her alone.
A magic lamp in human form,
casting your magic on people.
You make them laugh and glow forever.
No need to rub the lamp, he’s Genie and Lamp all in one.
Always at your service, never putting himself first.
Even after leaving this earth, you will always be remembered.
You will always be the magic lamp that summons our inner child.
A tribute to Robin Williams, one of my favourite and inspiring actors since childhood.
It takes years for those heart strings to regrow, sparking life into them.
Your mind is a pool of emotions.
Regret. Melancholy. Anger. Anxiety.
Deafening pangs collide against the pillars of your head.
While your body suffers the torment.
Mind and body become one decaying space.
You say to yourself, “If no one loves or cares about me, then do I exist?”
It’s pathetic how we humans rely on others to confirm that we do exist.
It takes simple words to tear down the essence of one’s existence.
It’s been what 2 years since you surrendered
Yourself to this dead building. With its grey walls, grey floors.
The only colourful item are the windows. Is that why you sit at one and stare through it?
The staff seem generous but you think they’re demons in disguise. It’s their aesthetic voices and caked faces, isn’t it?
They gave up on persuading you to take your pills.
It painfully reminds you of your loved ones, who are now fragments of the past.
The thought of them rejecting you pierces your flesh that you feel your heart strings snap like a slingshot.
Sure there are others like Fear. Fear 1. Fear 2. Fear 3. All nameless. But the Fear who targeted you doesn’t want another Fear. Like the fallen angel himself, Fear doesn’t like competition. No, it didn’t cannibalise Fear 1, Fear 2 and Fear 3.
Fear would rather feed on victims than murderers.
Aren’t you listening?
Of course you can’t hear me.
Fear has damaged your ears and sight.
You had friends once. Family once. But Fear drove them away.
Your soul was drained by paranoia as one by one, your love ones drop off. You thought you could handle being alone. Like Jane Eyre. The image of a Mr. Rochester was like sunshine to you.
That was what Fear thought too when it was at this stage of crisis…before hope turn into anger. Anger into revenge.
But Fear doesn’t want you to play the murderer.
Read the books in the genre that you want to write in.
Fear whispers to your friends and family the very words that deafened and tortured its ears long time ago.
The very words that have been the catalyst of the Fear curse.
“This person is not normal. You must shun them. Leave them. Make sure your affection is targeted towards those who are normal and a convenience to you.”
No one knows who said this. But it was probably some person who is sitting by the fireplace and laughing at their victims.
A Jack the Ripper, but the murderer’s method is to mutilate a person’s soul until they become what the murderer says they are.
Yes, it’s true what they say.
Life is a vicious cycle. A repetition of so many emotions.
History repeats itself.
You. Once a friendly and charming person.
Your soul attracted Fear.
Fear, its corporeal body has grown transparent, has been wandering the earth, haunting people and luring them to the realm of isolation.
Where it’s cold, barren, soullness, melancholy.
This realm is a spirit itself like Fear. It encloses you through a building, isolated from the realm of the living.
Fear didn’t attack you. It attacked and corrupted your friends.