Tangled Words

Crafting short stories, poems and once in a while nature related contents. Anyone who loves words is welcome here. Have a read, then tell me what you felt!😉☘️

[dragonbreathesfire8]

Children of the Weeping Sky

Perhaps it was the weeping sky,

In sorrow for a hidden love.

The drops did not taste bitter there,

As if from some angelic cry.

Yet still I stood beneath the storm,

My cooling tears against the heat,

To soothe the madness of my rage,

And quiet down the climate’s form.

Will they believe the words I say,

These drops are only children coming home?

Rescued sons and daughters, falling down,

To kiss the face of mothers far away?

Will they hear the song I sing?

Of this patter, their laughter is found?

As droplets leap to mothers' arms,

And dance into the pooling ground,

To cool the fumes that rage around.

Yet, still I stood beneath the storm,

With pooling tears and heavy stride,

To chase a river, freshly born,

Where blooms and missing dears abide,

Believing tales of thirst and pride.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

When The Heavens Sang

A hand pulled me in, harsh and hollow—

It was not a hand, but the claw of a predator,

The void of endless watching.

Another hand pulled me back,

Vintage and rusted with time,

Drawing me gently

Into its fantasy.

Sweet and beautiful were they in my eyes,

Yet I was blind to the glory before me.

The light that guided me

Through my spiralling escape

From the monster and its shadow

They wore an emerald cloak around them,

While specks of gold fluttered

Wildly in circles.

Towers of green danced with the wind,

Their leaves slipping softly

Down invisible slides.

Were they tears, perhaps,

So similar to mine?

I wandered, within the living painting.

 

I was not only blind, but deaf as well,

For I had never heard the whimsical choir—

A melody warm as summer nectar, singing

Of the divinity of light,

The sea’s endless romance,

And sympathy for me,

For never seeing the heavens sing.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

Sight Without Seeing

Needles of light pierced my eyes,

Squinting, I sought shelter from a blessing I had.

Through the streets walked a man in black—I noticed

He had a stick and black-tinted glass.

He moved through the world as though losing light

Had taught him another way to see.

A curtain of black, an endless hollow—

Is what I imagined his life to be.

Yet he moved passionately through awaited chaos,

Firm against the breeze that threatened to push him.

He embraced and kissed the crimson red rose,

Which bit at his calloused hands—not in spite,

But with a gentleness that I am empty of.

The world blurred with me as I stood in a corner,

Forced to open my sealed eyes.

Yet I can only look, while he lives in the world

My eyes mistook for nothingness.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

[dragonbreathesfire8]

[dragonbreathesfire8]

[dragonbreathesfire8]

The Crack In The Perfect House — Part 2: Breach

“There. It looks flawless.” My father exclaimed, satisfied.

I was still doubtful of it, so I asked, “But Dad, what if it grows back?”

“Grows? This is a wall, Nico. But hey, that’s a what if situation. So just chill for now.” He just waved me off.

Maybe he’s correct. It was just my brain messing with me. Perhaps it hadn’t grown at all.

I sat on the bed, my eyes fixed on the spot where it had been. It was perfect.

Too perfect.

No trace of the crack.

Nothing.

Yet, a heavy weight settled in my chest.

It had been four days since that day—since the crack disappeared—and four days of waking up at five in the morning.

It’s awfully exhausting.

Waking up at five. Sitting there. Doing absolutely nothing.

On the first day, I was dead asleep. And I woke up drenched in water. When I opened my eyes, I found my mother with a bucket in hand.

The second day, the alarm shrieked in my ears, waking me up forcefully.

The third day, my eyes felt heavy as I dragged myself from the bed.

The fourth day, today, I woke up five minutes early. Vision blurring from time to time.

When I walked through the hallway buzzing with people, they noticed it. Glances lingered too long. Whispers followed me down the corridor. Lips half stretched into a smile and half down-turned.

Even my teacher stopped mid-lesson.

“Nico… are you alright? If you’re not, you can tell me.”

I forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just an allergy. Nothing to worry about”

She didn’t look convinced.

The last time I checked, my eyes had turned a dull shade of purple—thanks to a failed attempt at using my mother’s makeup.

In the hallway, I walked like a ghost. On the street, while returning home, I swayed slightly with each step. A few people glanced at me longer than usual.

The scorching sun pressed down from above, burning my back as I walked.

In our street, a house stood tall, with pride and perfection. Neatly trimmed grass shielded the soil from the heat, while taller trees with wider trunks stood casting shadows, not letting the sunlight sneak past them. Not even a bit.

I walked through the entrance and opened the door, careful not to bang it. No one greeted me or waited for me excitedly. Even if they did, it would be the screams of perfection from my mother.

So I headed straight to my room, put the bag on the table, and then sat on the bed with my legs dangling in the air. I could feel the bed claim me. My body sank into its softness. Into Comfort. Then I threw a quick glance at the spot I’d been avoiding for days.

Something was there.

A hole.

Not a crack. Not a break.

A perfectly round, huge hole. Big enough for me to crawl through.

I stood frozen. My mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.

Around its edge, something shimmered. Not light exactly. Not matter either. Just… a distortion in the air.

It vibrated. A sound trying to form words.

“Ni—”

It cut off.

The hole fell still. The glimmer faded.

Nothing looked back.

I did not move.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

The Tales of Mossmere

02. The Will of Dusk

“If that is how life formed on Mossmere, then I must be a clump of dirt. My friends are clumps of dirt. Everyone is. It is quite fascinating, yet..” He drew in a cold breath.

“Strange,”

His thoughts began to wander off, drifting further — until—

He tripped on a root and fell. Pain shot through his leg and he groaned.

“I must have scratched my knee...” he slightly whispered, as he lowered his head to glimpse at the scratch.

But when he did, there was nothing. No scratches. No blood. No mark.

His skin was untouched.

“Bizarre,” He muttered, brushing the dust off his clothes.

For a moment, his thoughts started to drift again. Deeper, towards something he could not quite grasp. Then he shook his head.

He had to get home.

By the time he reached home, dusk had fallen. A dark blue curtain with dusted gold. Endless. Vast. For Rylen, it felt overwhelming.

Mirelings never knew what lingered beneath that curtain. No one wanted to.

But Rylen did.

What could happen if he stayed a miresecond outside?

He felt thrilled at the idea.

Just a moment. No harm in that.

He made up his mind and stood outside of his tiny house. Listening. Waiting. Cautiously.

The wind had turned cold. It bit at the skin. Slow at first.

In the distance, he could hear something approach. A powerful force, sweep across the land. The wind shifted, it rushed toward him. Clawed at his skin, no longer gentle. A burning sensation spread through his arms. His knees trembled. His hands grew damp.

Something was wrong.

It felt as though something had noticed him.

As though he did not belong out here. Fear tightened around him. A lump formed in his throat. He turned and knocked.

No answer. He knocked again. Harder this time. Still nothing.

The cold deepened. He felt it creep along his skin, and tear it apart. Slowly. Dangerously.

Frightened, he called out “ Nero! Open the door, please”

He listened. Waiting for his parents to open the door. Nothing but the pounding of his heart.

“Nero! It’s Rylen.” At last, he heard something. Footsteps.

Relief flickered.

But, the pain spread further. Crawled up his damp skin. Overwhelming him.

He wanted to look at his arms. To see what is happening. But he did not dare to look.

He knew if he looked down, he would see something he was not ready to face. So he kept his eyes on the door. Waiting. Grunting in pain, as the unknown force clawed at his dark skin.

Then, the door opened.

His Nero pulled him in.

Relief flood through him. But it did not last for long.

His arms still stung.

“You stayed past Dusk! What have you done?” his mother said, voice tight with fear.

That fear spread through him.

Slowly, he glanced down.

And froze.

Half of his arm was gone.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

The Tale of Mossmere

01. The Origin

“Mossmere is the land of life. A tiny world with a tiny mind, and tiny people. This world wasn’t as beautiful in the past. It was an arid world, with no life. Harsh, wind would swirl around you, wrapping you in a tight embrace of dusty sand. The sun would glare down at you, with blazing flames. You would have melted. Do not be afraid, Mossmere was not a cruel world. This was only the beginning of it”

She paused looking at the children.

“On one such harsh day, something bizarre happened. The clouds all gathered— not in silence. Not in anger. Thunder roared as bright lightning split the sky”

The children leaned forward.

“ Slowly, wet water fell from the sky. They wept, in sorrow. It was called the Great Rainfall. The reason was unknown, but the tears had changed everything for us. Huge water droplets fell from the sky. Each one the size of our body. And when the water drops touched the dust, the ground began shifting. Slowly morphing into a clump of damp soil.”

She slowly reached for a leaf cup,” I need to drink some water.” She said, coughing.

“ what happened next?” A child asked curiously.

“Did it roll down the soil of Mossmere?” another child whispered.

She smiled.

“No, from the clump of soil formed creatures. Skin silky and smooth like the ice. Hair as dark and vibrant like the meeting of dusk and dawn. Lips, bright red petals. And their eyes — deep and complex, like woven patterns of light. That was how the Mirelings rose from the Great Rainfall.”

“As dusk may approach soon, I will stop here. You may return tomorrow for the rest of the story.”

The children’s faces fell in unison.

She smiled gently, amused by their disappointment.

“Goodbye, Grandmother Mossel. See you tomorrow!” they sang together.

When the last children had left, she slowly picked up the book.

She turned its pages—each one cutting softly through the air—until she found the page.

The page that made her legs weaken.

The page that tightened something in her chest.

The page she had never been able to forget.

A reminder of her failure.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

The Great Battle—Lost

We choked the air,

We banished the world’s life,

Stripped the trees, dimmed the sunlight,

And sold the rivers.

We are warriors,

Slaves to our greed.

Money flows in rivers,

Poisons our breath with greed,

Pierces our eyes with wealth.

Because we are warriors,

Slaves of glory.

Hunger devours,

Hearts gasp,

Skin fades.

The mark of the final battle.

We dressed in gleaming armor,

Pulled golden awards with pride, for swords are silver.

Hollow horns blared,

As warm pride embraced us.

We are warriors,

Puppets of our minds.

We wait for death,

The great battle.

We wait to earn our diamond grave,

To rest in muddy soil.

But the soil glares at us with disgust,

Rejects our hollow triumphs.

We are warriors—

Spat out by the soil we defiled.

This is an impulsive piece. Open to constructive feedback. Thank you for reading.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

LISTENING FOR A HEARTBEAT

Some children don’t sleep. They listen.

She’s crying again. Tears rolling down her face—silver and sparkling. It would be beautiful… if it weren’t my mother’s sadness.

I don’t know how to help. I don’t know why she cries. But she does—every night.

When she falls asleep, I stay awake. Watching. Waiting. Praying. Trying to keep her alive. I’m afraid she’ll leave me—alone in the dark.

I wrap my arms around her, my hands pressed near her heart. Listening.

I panic when it doesn’t beat. My heart stops, twisting and tearing inside me.

And when it beats…

I thank God.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

The Crack In The Perfect House - Part 1

 

Splash!

“It’s time for you to wake up, you little sloth!”

The sound of a dragon woke me up. Oh no! It was my mother. Again.

My pyjamas dripped with water as the alarm kept shrieking frantically. Why do we have to wake up so early in the morning?

“Because you have school,” my mother’s voice banged into my ears — loud and authoritative.

Her answer felt alarming, almost as if she could read my thoughts. Or maybe the pattern had just become obvious. Either way, I had to force my eyes open… or she would!

“You promised you’d wake up on your own.” She sounded disappointed.

It wasn’t her fault. I did promise her. In fact, I promise her every day. But this time, it’s different.

“I promise, Mom. Tomorrow I’ll wake up at exactly five o’clock. Or even five minutes earlier. I’m growing tired of the water treatment.”

She almost smiled. Then it dropped, and a sigh lifted her bangs.

“Tomorrow is Saturday… but I appreciate the enthusiasm. Thanks for the idea, Nico. From now on, you’re waking up at five o’clock every day.”

With that, she picked up the alarm and reset it.

Oh boy.

This is not fair at all. Why should I wake up at five o’clock on weekends? To do what? And what’s up with me? Haven’t I looked at the calendar? How did I not know it was Friday?

Question after question rolled through my head as I looked at the calendar. January.

January? I hadn’t changed it. Thank God my mother didn’t notice.

“One more thing, Nico your room is messy. Perhaps you could clean it on Saturday by waking up early.”

I sighed in relief as she closed the door.

She hadn’t noticed it. Or so I thought.

I walked over to the calendar to change it and noticed a note written below:

“Change the calendar. Before I mention it again.”

Oh no.

I slapped my forehead. Nothing escapes her.

After changing the calendar, I took a cold shower. It was all I needed to wash away the tiredness from staying up late doing homework.

Yet something kept nagging at me. Not just exhaustion — something heavier.

I wasn’t the person I used to be.

And somehow… I think that disappointed my mom more than it did me.

As the soap slid down my arms, my thoughts drifted, slipping further and further away from me.

At last, I stepped out of the shower, freezing and trembling. My teeth chattered as I rubbed my hair dry. Just then, my eyes fell on a crack in the perfect, smooth wall. Not too big. I was sure it hadn’t been there before.

I ignored it as I heard my mother screaming my name from the kitchen.

“In a second, Mom!”

I quickly got ready and headed downstairs. I didn’t know what she would say this time, and it was better that way.

As usual, nothing new was said. Climbing the stairs had drained my energy, so I just lay in bed with a book in hand, passing the time until my mother called me again for breakfast.

Eventually, my mother called me for breakfast. It was another mundane morning, the same as always. After eating, I trudged off to school, my backpack weighing me down more than usual. All along the trip, something kept nagging in the back of my mind. Perhaps it could be the tiny crack. Or perhaps not.

 

It was a great day. All the teachers praised me for my timely work, and the best part? I’d proved my academic rival wrong for the tenth time in a row. The way she shot me a glance and quietly sat down was so vivid. My smirk was the cherry on top—sweet and satisfying. Even now, I can’t stop grinning. I may be a bit arrogant. But who cares.  It’s all fun and winning that matters.

Nothing could stop me from having fun. Even in my perfectly ordered house, with gardens trimmed to perfection and windows opened to let in morning light. It was all my mother’s desire —to be perfect. But I say, you need a bit of imperfection. And that imperfection in her life… was me.

I swung open the perfect door with a bit of enthusiasm and it banged against the wall. Shoot.

“WHO WAS IT?” My dragon. no, my mother. Wrong, it is the dragon.

“Mom? Hehe…” I smiled hesitantly as her shout pierced my eardrum — ouch!

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to…” I tried to scream in response, but she ordered me to come.

“Nico, come to your room!”

I obeyed. My hands were wet with sweat, legs shaking as I wiped invisible dust from my uniform. Being seen imperfect now… is a real con.

“Nico, was it you who cracked the wall?”

Huh? My eyes shot up. What crack? The crack.

“Where, Mom?” I asked innocently.

She pointed to the same spot I had noticed — only slightly bigger.

I stared at her, puzzled. I vividly remembered it being the size of our thumbnail. But now… it’s the size of a hand. Like someone had kicked it or thrown a ball. Now I understand why my mother is staring at me with her brows arched.

“It wasn’t me, Mother. I swear.” She still doesn’t believe me. How could she, when the crack looks like it was kicked in anger? Of course… I’m exactly the kind of troublemaker she’d suspect.

“You have to believe me. I’d never do such a thing to turn the house into imperfection”  she looked at me even weirdly.

“I believe you, because you weren’t the one who banged the door earlier. Right?”  she smirked.

Ok. That was me. But still, she has to believe me.

Or I don’t care if she doesn’t .

“ I don’t know. I only saw it in the morning. Could be some bug”

“Hmm.... Well, I’ll tell your dad about it. Until then, you better not touch the wall.”

Much better than having my ears blown. Still, it’s ridiculous. How can she not believe her own son? And how did this crack even grow? I’ll just leave that one for Dad to figure out.

I stretched out on my bed, letting the warm blanket hug me. A short nap, and my victorious self would be ready to face the rest of the day. The crack on the wall danced at the edge of my thoughts — tiny, harmless… for now.

I drifted off.

Suddenly, the crack wasn’t small anymore. It had grown to the size of a head. And a disturbing sound whispered through. I looked closer, staring intently at it without blinking. The shadows shifted and through the hole came a huge creature, scratching my nose.  I fell back with a loud thud.

“Argh!” Pain shot through my back and arms. My eyes flew open.

Just a dream.

Rubbing my arms, I glanced at the wall. The crack... I don’t know if it’s my sleepy brain imagining things or reality. But the crack is the size of a head.

“MOM!! DAD!!”

[dragonbreathesfire8]

The Ones Who Are Not Welcome

 A trapped-beast growl ripped from my stomach, startling my family. We hadn’t eaten in days. I had no choice but to search for food, despite the dangers that awaited.

It was yet another sparkling summer day, the sun greeting every creature with a gentle kiss. Birds chirped and sang, a choir celebrating the greatness of luck. Yet my family and I felt completely excluded from it.

Still, I continued my seemingly impossible mission. The grasses shivered beneath my feet, the leaves bending flexibly, none giving me the satisfying crunch I longed for. The large trees provided patches of shade, as if trying to offer comfort in the blazing heat. I walked briskly, feeling almost as if I were floating through the air, the world stretching endlessly around me.

Navigating through all the large bushes and shrubs, I finally got a glimpse of their house.  I slowed my pace and crept forward. Walking past the large , bold, wooden carving which read “Jones  Residence”. Upon noticing the missing letter, I snickered. It  now read as “ones residence”—anyone’s residence. Well, I suppose it won’t be a  problem at all if I barge inside the house.

I slipped through my usual door, that one only meant for me. No burglar could ever find such a unique entrance. The door led straight into the kitchen, with bright pink walls, perfectly smooth, no cracks, no bumps. The reason I preferred Jones’ house, oops, I mean One’s House—was simple: everything was neat. Shelves were organized, items carefully arranged and categorized, making it easy for anyone to find anything. Anything.

Of course, I couldn’t carry everything. I could only take what would be enough for my family. And the only things that could fill our hunger were...... I scanned the shelves, searching for the perfect option. Ah! There— bread and cheese.

At the sight of it, my beasty stomach let out an ear-shattering growl. I hadn’t realized a stomach could smell food. Or maybe it can, sense exactly what you desire? Less important. I should find a way to take them. But ain’t no way I was going hungry.

I gobbled crumbs of bread and cheese as fast as I could, my hands trembling with hunger as I held the pieces. Anyhow, it was only a matter of seconds before the bread and cheese I had vanished. Now I could take my family’s portion.

I grabbed handfuls of bread and cheese and was making my way toward my special door when—

“Ewww! It’s a rat! AHH!”

Shit. The girl had found me.

Her scream ripped through the air, and the lights switched on, blindingly bright. I heard the heavy footsteps of a huge person approaching. I had to move, my family would starve if I failed. I ran as fast as my tiny legs could carry me, the girl’s spotlight following, her finger tracing my every move.

Surviving as a rat is never easy. To them, we’re nothing but pests. But what of our hunger? Don’t we deserve to live? The questions pounded in my head as I fled.

I couldn’t run faster. I’m only a rat. My body screamed with exhaustion, my tiny lungs burning. The man—Jones, I guessed—was almost upon me, broom in hand.

I twisted and darted, trying to find a way through, but there was no space to hide. My heart raced. A sharp sweep of the broom slammed against me, pain exploding across my back. I yelped instinctively, the world tilting as I skidded across the floor. Every second was agony, every movement a desperate gamble.

Suddenly, everything dissolved into darkness. No light reached me.

In that suffocating void, the question would not leave me. It echoed, growing louder, impossible to ignore. A bitterness settled deep within me, tearing at my heart.

“Why are we considered pests, when we are just living, breathing life? I do not know good from bad. I do not understand the chaos I cause. Yet, that should not mean I am undeserving of kindness.”

A tear formed at the corner of my eye, and I couldn’t stop it from falling.

Then, through the darkness, a voice. Soft. Hesitant.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, little creature. I’m sorry. I had no choice but to capture you. But I do not have a cruel heart.”

It was Jones.

And with that, he let me go, along with a small piece of cheese.

I wanted to run as far away as possible. But before I could, I found myself turning back, looking at him.

For a moment, I stayed still.

Then I left.

I didn’t understand why I had paused, and I didn’t question it.

Some lives are small enough to be ignored. Some voices are quiet enough to be unheard.

Yet hunger feels the same. Fear feels the same. And the smallest act of kindness can echo farther than we imagine.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

When Nothing Changes

 It’s the fragrance of love—the scent of roses I loved.

It’s the cold wind kissing my skin—I breathed it in.

It’s the warm flickering streetlights that held my sight.

Held in love’s quiet embrace,

I touched the world without fear.

The same fragrance of the rose lingers too long.

The cold wind I breathed now bites my skin.

The flickering streetlights are dim, blurred.

Love keeps me open, almost fragile,

and I meet the world with doubt.

That fragrance of rose—the essence of love,

suffocates me in silence.

That cold wind cuts deeper than skin.

Those flickering streetlights that guided me,

now distort my vision.

Love has thinned from the air,

sinking into darkness.

Cold seeps through me,

only my hands remain warm.

Hope flickers,

a light I can scarcely see.

Nothing has changed—

except the way I feel it.

[dragonbreathesfire8]

We Said Nothing

I watched her chuckle loudly while smiling to myself. Seeing her like this is a pleasure to me — I quietly cherished it. Her teeth flashing quietly, eyes crinkling and nearly closed. Cheeks turning red as her entire body shook with laughter. It’s a spectacle if you ask me.

“What’s up with the smirk? You always do it when I laugh!” she asked. Looking confused with a raised eyebrow.

And every time she asked, the answer is the same.

“nothing.”

It never really was.

As our bond grew deeper, it became harder to lie. She frowned at my answer—a clear “a lie?” written across her face.

I gave a knowing smile. Yeah, don’t worry.

Others used to get confused by our silent, almost telepathic conversations. At first, they questioned it. Now, they would just raise an eyebrow, sigh, and walk away with an,

“It’s their thing. Let them be.”

So, life was never boring with her. There was no pressure to be perfect around her, and she never expected anything from me. We were just existing in this world. But there was a quiet wish to live in those moments forever. My heart weighs with ache every time that thought occurs, because I know it’s never possible. Never. I guess life just doesn’t care what you want…

“LEO! Snap out of your head. Stop staring at the kid. The mother’s going to notice!”

“What? When was I staring at… Oh…” I met the little boy’s angry, wide-eyed glare. He was innocently stacking plastic blocks on top of his mother’s head while she was busy talking on her phone. My jaw tightened, caught between wanting to laugh and looking away.

Then the mother’s head turned, eyes locking with mine, and I flinched. She scanned me from top to bottom, then clutched her purse and briskly got up. Meanwhile, the kid stared down at the fallen messy blocks, disappointment etched across his face. He stuck his tongue out at me and ran after his mother.

Yet… all I remembered was Ivy's laughter mingling with the breeze, radiating warmth and joy, her hair dancing in waves as the orange sun gently stroked it. I wished it were my hands, not the sun! But anyway…

Ivy clearly found this funny, chuckling as she said, “Wait… this must be the nth time you’ve stared at someone today. What was so interesting about that kid, huh?”

“Nothing…” I shrugged, glancing away. “But… the kid shared the same glare as the mother.”

She smiled and exhaled a heavy sigh. For a moment, it felt as though behind that radiating, charming face was something mysterious—or bizarre. Even though we had been friends for years, there had never been a single time she invited me to her home or even mentioned her family. And after every chaos, every playful moment, she always sighed, her expression falling briefly.

Whatever was bothering her would be forgotten in a second, I determined. Maybe I could get her to feel normal again if I mentioned the sky! The sky is always beautiful, calming, and around here, the view is amazing.

“Hey, look at that! Over there!” I said, feigning surprise as I pointed toward the sky to grab her attention.

She followed my finger, glanced in the direction I was pointing and immediately squinted and shut her eyes.

“Ouch! What’s so amusing about this burning sky? Did you want to blind me?”

“Burning sky? It’s just eight in the morning!” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

“You must be dreaming! Check your watch, dummy! It’s almost noon.” Another point for her—she was right, of course. And that sheepish grin… ugh, I hate it.

Annoyed yet confused, I muttered, “Yeah, you’re correct. It’s going to be twelve o’clock soon. But what are you still grinning about?”

“Nothing.”

Argh! I hate it even more when she says “nothing.”

[dragonbreathesfire8]

Shelter for None

"See ya!" the students shouted to each other while rushing out of school.

"See you too… well, today was one of the boring days. Yet to make it unforgettable, I made an embarrassing mistake. Ugh!!" she whispered to herself. Boredom had grabbed her by the throat, making even her monologues uninteresting.

As a habit, she looked up at the sky, hoping to see a bright golden sun smiling at her. But to her dismay, the sun was not there. It was shielded by gloomy clouds, ready to rain on her.

She paused for a moment, frowning, then allowed herself a small sigh. Perhaps the rain wouldn’t be so bad — after all, it might accompany her home, washing away some of this dullness.

“Ah, at least some company on the way,” she murmured.

She took out the umbrella from her bag, steadied her jelly-like legs, forced a cheery smile, and set an energetic pace as she continued her journey home.

Halfway through, she observed that not only did she feel bored, but the entire town was slow and quiet. Street vendors didn’t fight to gain customers. The electric laugh of people didn’t echo through the town. Only the sound of a few footsteps clacking against the cobblestones echoed.

"Universal gloom…" Before she had finished uttering her sarcastic comment, it started to rain heavily.

“Ahh, finally,” her wish was satisfied. She abandoned her energetic pace and started to skip, each step producing a melodic splash of water. To the rhythm of it, a song played in her mind. For a moment, the day felt bright again — sunless, but alive.

As the water she kicked produced a loud splash, she noticed something stir near her. A low grunting sound reached her ears. At first, she could only make out a shadow, blurred by the rain. Drawn by curiosity, she stepped closer — and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it wasn’t some animal, but a human.

Right at that moment, her heart felt troubled — torn. She barely noticed the umbrella in her hands anymore. Even the pouring rain seemed to pause. The person in front of her, seeking warmth from the soil's damp embrace, remained frozen. All that moved now was her frantic mind.

Jumping from a thought to another, leaving her alone between two realms — two choices: walk away or help.

Yet, she was torn into pieces by something far more troubling. It was the imagination of more people living in the same miserable condition.The rain would not be a pleasure or comfort for them; it would be a thief, stealing their only warmth. Our cheerful laughter would become a cruel reminder of what they lacked.

"Why?"

The answer seemed like an infinite, tangled chain — impossible to trace, yet impossible to ignore.

On an impulse, she remembered the umbrella she was holding. Slowly, she lowered it and handed it to the person.

“Maybe this will help for now,” she said softly, careful not to startle them.

They stared at her, and a faint smile appeared on their face, fragile as a candle flame. It was clear that satisfaction and happiness had been slowly erased from their memories, yet for a fleeting moment, she felt that they could be reminded — reminded that joy, even small, could still exist.

But that little vulnerable smile made her smile genuinely for the day. She returned it to them and picked up her pace, racing through the rain — satisfied, yet not entirely.

When she reached her home, she was drenched. And the doorstep was pooled in water.

"Ugh! I'm going to be in so much trouble for this," a worried thought escaped her mouth, just as the door opened and her mother appeared.

As expected, her mother was angry and questioned her without letting her answer. She didn’t mind them, because in her mind, a question kept demanding attention:

If I can offer warmth today, what of the countless souls left out in the cold?

[dragonbreathesfire8]

Currents of yesterday

Her eyes, like blurred strokes of paint, Weigh with longing.

A foggy mirror, reflecting obscurity —

sketching the outlines in the shadow.

The endless ocean, merging with the gloom,

an abstract canvas of smudged memories,

Erases his trace, yet cannot embrace her with warmth.

Still, the tides collide, cradling her softly,

Keeping her afloat, though she sways with ache.

The ghostly wind weaves emptiness everywhere, and

silences the tides which whisper her name.

She breathes the sorrow: emptiness floods within.

Waves may sweep, winds may howl, yet she drifts only where the past remains.