The path towards creative writing is not great, but a complex one. One must have a wide vocabulary and a deep, vast imagination to masterfully express his thoughts and to produce majestic pieces. I have strived to achieve those capabilities. My strong will to reach those enabled me to write good, acceptable works. My confidence in writing soared. Had I not become courageous enough to pursue this, I will not be a captivated by the majestic world of writing. My journey to be a creative writer is valuable to me, since I will not be able to show my appreciation to this warm hearted world without it. My experiences are important, for writing has also helped to clear my cloudy perception of everything.
The night falls at the dreary city of Meine. An uncommon city in the Philippines, it features decrepit, old Edwardian-era buildings and infrastructure. The busy streets and energetic populace keeps this city alive with its colorful feasts. Tonight is the final celebration of the town’s founding anniversary. People are coming home to spend the great night with their families and friends.
Meanwhile, Joseph is strolling alone around the Todespark. The park is lit by a few flickering torches. Their dim light looks like splattering blood as it reflects to the riverside, and it does nothing to improve Joseph’s grim countenance. An old monument dedicated to the town’s founders is in the middle of the park, deteriorating as the city itself. As Joseph passes again at the monument’s front, he notices the dusty plaque. He wipes the dust and reads the inscription:
“The Meinestadt: Founded in Brotherhood, Eternal Solidarity”
He frowns at the message. He walks towards the riverside then sits at a bench. He sighs, thinking about what he did 4 months ago. He has been anxious if he was right, since that “reorganization” was his last step towards his “Splendid Isolation.”
“Serge, is the reorganization completely right? I should have talked to them first, maybe they would have heard me.”
Serge replies with his usual low-pitched, demonic voice, “It is right. Ignore your troubles, and the first year of Splendid Isolation shall commence.”
Joseph disagrees. “But, they are my only remaining friends. This is surely wrong—”
“Why question me? It is your fault. You launched the ‘reorganization,’ I simply encouraged you,” Serge replies in a raised voice.
There was a short silence. Joseph is incensed by his words.
“This is your fault, Serge! You always told me that I am forever alone, that the Meine’s people are double-crossers, my dearest friends fooled me, and she is a snake! This should not have happened!”
Serge questions him, “Am I wrong?” Joseph says otherwise. “Well, why blame me? I am correct since you perceived them the way I described them, and I was right. Your perception became the truth, and the responsibility for these fatal mistakes lies on you.”
“So you trapped me then, you swindler! You twisted my perception to ruin me! Curse you!,” shouts Joseph to Serge.
Serge shuts him, then speaks, “Before you accuse me of tempting you, look at your hands. The gleaming fires radiate your hands. Look at them closely.”
Joseph stares at his hands covered by the faint, red-orange lights. He then starts to sweat profusely and tremble, distress starting to attack his mind. He shouts in terror: “Blood! Blood! Spots of ghastly blood covering my hands! Oh, what visions do I see!”
Serge chuckles. He says, “These are your faults, your wrongs. Watch as the visions appear. This is your fault, dear friend Serge, yours alone.”
The “visions of terror” now flash through Joseph’s mind.
The first vision of terror shows the Meine’s populace from 7 years ago. They were friendly to him when he first arrived at the town. At that point, he is also friendly, composed, and acted with manners. He was really shy. But, Meine liked him, and he adapted to the town and became a lively member of the community. The problem is, he is paranoid to gossipers. He thought some people were fooling and ridiculing him. He minimized his socialization attempts with the people of Meine, although he was able to have closer relationships with some people. As time passes, his true colors appear. As the second vision of terror appears, a thunderclap headache strikes at Joseph.
“It is not my fault!”
Joseph is actually an erratic person. He is loud, boastful and immature. Sometimes, he even mocks some of his close friends. At first, his friends understand him and are delighted by his antics. As time progresses, he worses, leading to the “Disintegration.” After some petty arguments, he ended friendships with some people. Many supported him. Unfortunately, his actions lead him to the fatal decision. It is the third vision of terror. Massive thunderclap headache strikes again. Joseph screams and whines in pain and anguish.
“It is not my fault!”
Five years ago, his close friend introduced him to a girl. She is a simple one, and they almost had the same hobbies and favorites. Joseph was over the moon when thinking of her. When he showed his antics, she was entertained. So, what is the fatal mistake? He did nothing. He was content enough to dream about her. Then he heard that she has a boyfriend. By that time, he already felt nothing for her. But Joseph became angry. Fueled by his mental instability, he attacked her privately, sometimes in front of her own friends. He called her various insults & disgusting names. He was angry about her perceived betrayal. It continued for 3 years. Joseph became increasingly withdrawn, and his alarming actions turned many of his friends against him. He concluded that these events occur due to the malevolent, deceiving nature of Meine. 4 months ago, he then launched the “Reorganization,” a plan to end his association silently with the people of Meine. No one wondered why he suddenly stopped talking to them, since he is now irrelevant. Irrelevant due to his own actions. This realization has brought the final and worst headache to strike at Joseph.
“It is my fault!”
Serge speaks, “It is yours alone, o Joseph. I did nothing.”
After 30 minutes of anguish, Joseph relaxes. He then asks, “Why did you think of this ‘Splendid Isolation?’ There is no such thing as this!”
Serge says, “This is the only solution. You shall stand alone in all glory, just as the British Empire was alone at her splendor. Your suffering then will not repeat.”
“No,” Joseph disagrees, “it is the peace of mind and soul I need. My ‘Splendid Isolation’ must be in complete serenity, and at the end, I shall stand firm and awake, never to repeat my mistakes again.
Woe to you, wretched times of long ago!
Trouble my mind, I beseech you, no more.
My body and soul pleads you to forgo,
Fatal mistakes that threw the world offshore!
Dreadful decisions made by me alone,
Counseled by your malevolent swindlers.
They lead me to you, glorious Queen enthroned,
To fall in your chamber of cadavers!
Behind your alluring simplicity,
the stench of cruelty, your blood-red hands!
You lured us all to your captivity,
Lethal caresses that are hell’s quicksand!
Why undertake such an appalling path:
Desolation relieved with wanton wrath!
