#monowritings

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

We're Both Clowns Here

(and so am i because this is self indulgent pls dont pay this any mind)

Basked in the warmth of the air around him, he relaxed under the tree he sat. With his pencil and sketchpad in his hands, he figured he wouldn't be able to draw anything with the shadow, but he wasn't willing enough to leave his place. Although he really should be doing something relevant now, he stays there, lazed under the tree. Just a few more seconds, he thought.

"Gaby! There you are!"

There goes all peace and quiet.

"What do you want." Gabriel Agreste asked, though he wasn't really interested in whatever he has to say. How dare he disrupt the peace.

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing at all," the class clown cheerfully replied.

So why is he sitting next to him right now?

"If you have no business with me, then leave."

"Awww don't be like that, Gaby! Can't I just keep you company?"

"I don't need company," Gabriel said, making sure to sound clearly displeased with the interruption.

"Then..can I stay if I do have a business with you?"

Ha.

As if this jester would be able to come up with something within 5 seconds.

"Speak then," he challenged.

...

There was silence.

"As expected, you couldn't possibly be serio–" "Can you design a costume for me?"

...

What.

"Oh sorry, haha," the joker said while rubbing the back of his head, embarrassed. "I have a dream, you see. To put on a show. A show that will make people feel emotions!"

Wow, how creative.

"Specifically joy. I would like to spread lots of happiness one day. You know, with my skits and all. So, I'd like to start with something simple. Like Super Fry! Who's Super Fry, you ask? Well—"

He was still talking but Gabriel was only really half-listening. This fool expects him to design a costume? For a french fry?

How dare he, the Agreste thought. How dare he. How could he even–

Wait.

"Why are you asking me to work on this...design?" he asked, interrupting the jester's ramblings.

"Oh, well. It's because you draw, right?"

He flinched.

He wasn't supposed to know that.

How did he even know that?

As if reading his mind, the jester went on. "You always have your notebook with you, and I always see you on this same spot sometimes, drawing. I don't really understand why you would do that when the tree blocks the light, though."

He was bewildered. This little—

"You were stalking me?"

"No! Of course not, not like that," the clown immediately protested, but it was said with a smile on his face so who knows if he meant it. "You're just a very interesting fellow, you know? Looking 'professional' and all that. I started to think I could never see you unless I make an appointment."

"That should be the way it is."

"But it isn't, and I'm kind of relieved that you do things other than studying!" the jester had said with a giggle.

Gabriel looked at the class clown with a deadpan look on his face. It wasn't that he was trying to keep this hobby of his a secret. He just likes keeping things to himself, that's all!

Really, that's all there is to it...

"So whaddaya say, Gaby? Can you design a superhero costume for me?"

If this was meant to be a challenge, he would accept it no doubt. But it wasn't and it frustrates him, because the dumb offer was very tempting. Why was it tempting?

Is it because this hobby of his was acknowledged by someone other than himself?

"..What is your name, again?"

The comedian seemed shocked for a moment, but quickly regained his composure as he responded with a small grin on his face. "Harry. Harry Clown!" He squeezed his nose while making a..what was that noise, whatever.

"Then, Harry Clown, I will design this costume. But once that is done, you shall never come speak to me again nor see me again. Understood?"

The fool, Harry, was smiling wide now.

"Of course, Gaby."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"I thought we agreed to never talk about it again," he said. The comedian had waltz into his home, littered around the mansion with the 'script' for his next movie, and now he gives him a reminder of one of the biggest mistakes he has ever made.

Of course, this clown would come and see him as soon as he became a fashion designer. And to think he dared to ask for the costume to actually be made? Expecting he'd leave for good this time, he made it but what does he get?

The same clown, under his roof, pitching his movie. He couldn't care less, but he has to admit that this could be of use to him later.

"A comedy movie with superheroes?"

The clown made a face he couldn't quite read. "Well, it's quite the opposite, Gaby."

Ah.

Is that what he is expecting?

Perfect.

The clown spoke a lot more, along with his lame impersonation of ShadowMoth (how dare he), and finally he was finished. But Gabriel would have to pretend to be interested in order for this to work.

"I would have to approve the script if the show were to happen."

"Of course, Gaby," the clown bowed.

"And I would also like you to destroy every existing image of that fry costume." Immediately, he wanted to add.

"No worries, sweetie," he said and did that gimmick of his. A cue for the audience to laugh, he once explained.

Really, this little—

Soon enough, the comedian was running out towards the door, papers falling from his grasp and screaming in glee.

Gabriel watched from afar.

"No one will ever take this clown seriously," Gabriel said.

Even so, he couldn't deny to himself that the fact he believed that Harry Clown would leave him alone that easily was pathetic.

_______________________________________

NAH BECAUSE THIS GUY MADE A FRENCH FRY COSTUME REQUESTED BY HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND THEN SAID "No OnE WiLl ever TaKe ThIs cLowN serIousLy" BOI WHO U TRYNA FOOL

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

One Of These Clowns Are Not Like The Other

a whOppIng seQuEl anw pls this is self indulgent pls dont hate me-

Gabriel Agreste has always been a mystery for Harry, even way back since their teenage years. The child gave this proficient, businesslike aura so often that it makes the comedian wonder whether this man even had a childhood.

He seemed thrilled (or, atleast not so cold anymore?) when he was designing clothes though, and Harry Clown can proudly say that he helped him pursue his passion in some way. He was one of the first to commission him, after all.

This, of course, grants him the privilege to ring his dear old friend.

"Gaby!" He cheerily greeted as the other end finally picked up the phone.

"..."

"Hehe. Hi, Gaby."

"What do you want."

He could practically feel his irritation, but he's used to it now.

"Do you wanna know what happened today?"

"Have you succeeded in what you needed to do?" Gabriel abruptly asked through the call.

Woah! Gabriel asked! He actually initiated a conversation! WOAH!

"Oh ho, Gaby! I was akumatized today, and it turns out that the superhero movie idea I had wasn't really a great idea after all..." He said with a dramatic sigh. He still remembers spending time with the two lovebirds after Bob Roth had rejected his movie. Admittedly, seeing Marinette and Adrien bond with one another made his day. Albeit, one was very unaware while the other was full of so much adoration.

"But I thought of making some changes because comedy is what I'm good at! So the movie is gonna be both emotional and fun—"

"I meant the pictures. Of the costume."

.........

Awwww, of course that's what he meant.

Gaby had never really taken much interest in his shows, but he's always helped Harry anyway(maybe three times?).

"You're so cold, Gaby. All evidence of the costume are non-existent," he reported.

......

Haha, what is this silence now?

"Gaby?"

"...It's nothing. That will be all. Goodbye."

O H N O

"WAIT! GABY!" Harry reached out to the air in front of him, hoping he could hold on to the one on the other end of the phone. Although, he never held such high hopes. This is Gabriel Agreste he's talking about.

"Nooooooooooooooo.." he 'cried'.

He held his dramatic stance of sadness for a few more seconds.

"I'm still here."

"Oh! Gaby! You didn't hang up yet?" Harry wanted to tease him, but now is not the right time yet.

"You don't have anything more to say to me, right?"

Not really, he thought. But he knew Gabriel would end the call immediately if he said that, but he really doesn't know what else to say. It's not like Gaby would listen to him performing his skits—oh!

"Well, I did wanna say that I didn't get to talk to Adrien about his role in the movie. Because, you know, obviously. But it...feels kind of impossible now, since I don't have a producer anymore you know?" Harry laughed, not sure if it sounded bitter rather than jolly. "I'm not even sure there will be a movie anymore. It's gonna be difficult to find a producer at this rate."

Harry sighed, but it wasn't the overdramatic one he used to do for amusement. This one was for real.

".....just....yourself..." Gabriel muttered, something Harry did not understand.

"What? Sorry, I didn't catch that, Gaby."

....

"I said, then just make the movie...yourself."

...........

WOAH!

"Awwwww, Gaby!!!" Harry was practically hugging him. This man, this old man, this professional man, had given him actual, caring advice. Who said Gabriel Agreste was cold?

"So you actually really, really like my shows?"

"Of course not! Do not misunderstand because of what I said."

"Aww, Gaby don't be shy! Are you flustered right now?" Yes, yes. Now is the perfect time to tease him.

"This..." He's definitely exasperated, Harry can't help but laugh. He could only do so much trying to hold it in.

"You said this movie will be your most personal one, and that you wrote the script and drew the illustrations yourself. So, I just stated the obvious. Make it happen yourself."

That is true. For a lot of his shows, he used his own props and scripts. Sometimes, he's even filmed his skits himself. He has always been one to take pride on things he accomplished on his own.

But there are limits to what he could do. And for things he couldn't do, he reaches out. He has to. But it's different when it's Gabriel Agreste. Because Gabriel Agreste always listens.

Always. Even if the subject does not interest him at all.

Harry wonders if it's because he's bored, but could he dare say that he truly cares?

....

Bah, what is he even thinking. This is Gabriel Agreste he's talking about.

"You're right, Gaby. I'm just gonna have to settle on producing this movie, myself. I'll rewrite the script, hire actors, or maybe ask help from people who watch my shows. And of course, you'll have to help me!"

"There are plenty other designers out there. Don't bother troubling me with this tiresome thing. It's your problem."

"Hehe, you're probably right. I should be grateful that you even lent me some of your time."

.....

He's quiet again. He really can't tell what this man is thinking sometimes (probably 'I wish this call would end.')

"Gabyyyy, you still there?" "Is that all?"

"Hmm?"

"Is that all you have to say?"

I hope I can drop by your place again.

Gabriel probably wouldn't like it if he said that.

"Yep! Oh, one last thing."

"Ugh. What?" Gabriel grumbled.

Harry chuckled at that. "Thanks, Gaby...I mean it."

......

"Don't ever call me again."

"Sure thing, sweetie!" Harry had to end that sentence with the gimmick.

"And get rid of the one photo you have of that costume."

"What pho– OH! How'd you know that— aw, he hanged up."

Well, it was a pity, truly a pity. He has 10 more copies, but now that Gabriel had asked him to, guess he'd have to throw away one picture he has of the first Super Fry. But how could he?

It was the costume that started it all. ______________________________________________________

THANKS FOR THE NOTES ON THE PREVIOUS HARRIEL FIC I WROTE HAAHJHSDJKSDJ i wanted to write harry perspective this time but i feel like it definitely strayed away from canon AJHBSDHD

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

Respect For Those Who Sleep, Please

I did a thing UAOAYWISH bc apparently spontaneous writing is better than knowing why venus is the hottest planet. Based on this post by @random-bi-writer, @/sonofrose's response to my tags fueled it too (*hides*)

Marcy loved to dream. She had. She dreamt.

She dreamt of celebrating someone's birthday back on Earth.

She dreamt of throwing the box away, far, far away where it couldn't find anyone and no one can find it.

She dreamt of being with Anne and Sasha who definitely doesn't hate her and joins her in whatever mishap they'll do next that absolutely does not involve traveling to other worlds.

She tried to dream here. Perhaps she could dream her way out.

...

"I am 'respectfully' informing you that mint chocolate ice cream is a crucial inclusion for increasing this body's metabolism."

If it weren't for those noisy, meddling roommates.

"I doubt pursuing a cold mixture right after awakening is conventional," a second voice had said.

"Oh, but a mere bread with frosting is?"

"How pathetic of you to not even know what the delectable's name is."

"I was not the one who substituted 'cold mixture' for ice cream."

"You are aware that you both are arguing over the host's preference, correct?" a third voice joined in.

"It is not an argument. I was simply stating facts, facts which of course are naturally ignored by-"

"They are not facts."

"They are."

"Are not."

"Guys, can you keep it down over there?" Marcy finally intervened.

"Technically, we cannot since we are up here in your head—"

"What is the silence for?"

"I'm trying to sleep," Marcy said. They did not understand the concept of sleeping, she concluded.

"Oh dear. Excuse us, host." How polite of a fourth voice that did not have anything to do with the noise. (Of course, no one here is humble enough to apologize.)

More voices joined in.

"We are having ice cream."

"The bread would be more advantageous, yes?"

"Shall we play some rubik's, then?"

"We could do video games."

"We do not have video games here, you fool."

"That is why we will make it ourselves, you idiot."

"Rubik's cube."

"Is this really something worth the attention? This is not connected to our plans at all."

"This is not food."

"You know, the rubik's cube will improve our—"

"Oh! I got it."

Everyone listened attentively, including Marcy, who can hear the argument all the way from her closed mindscape.

....

"Let us ask the host what she prefers—" "Are you ill?" "A moron." "The food?" "Greetings host, which way would you rather have your planet invaded?" "The food, not the invasion." "ThE foOD, nOt thE inVaSiOn."

Amidst the roaring sounds of altercation, Marcy tried to dream it was quiet. It did not work.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Ready?"

You don't remember.

"After a thousand years, I've thought of nothing else."

Did you sleep? You don't remember.

"Excuse me, out of the way. This is my calling," you heard a voice say in your mind.

Somehow, you feel refreshed. New...Quite possibly improved.

"Why son..."

It's odd, though.

"I think I'm almost proud of you."

You don't feel you.

"Unfair, how come he can send out a personalized message?"

"I express the same complaints."

"I have something ~very important~ to say, too!"

"What is this, a dedication booth?"

More voices had spoken. You care not for their purpose. (You should. You are their instrument after all.)

You wanted to sleep. (Do you need to?)

"Say it in here."

"Then no one will hear it!"

"We do not exist apparently."

"It is helpful enlightenment for the invasion, yes?"

"Well.."

"Yes..?"

You only wanted to dream, but your roommates were making this a nightmare.

"Do you think we can solve a rubik's cube in ten seconds?"

"Two seconds. Such simple task can be done with little to no complications."

"What...what is this even for—"

"Call Andrias."

A very noisy nightmare.

———————————————

GET IT? NOISE AS IN STATIC? LIKE WHEN YOU CAN'T SEE ANYTHING ON TELEVISION BC THERE'S NO SIGNAL Ǫ̷͕̗͈́ͅR̴̥͓̖̩̠̔͛̇̿̄̏͛̅͠ ̷̢̡̡̛͉̳͈͖̳̬̥̯̣̅͛̚͠͝M̵̢̮̬̠̣͈̤̌Ȩ̸̡͔̲̞̲̘̓̀̄͛͂̊͂̾̏̀̅̕̕͝͝M̶͈̟͔͉̞̮͙͉̭̱̲̺̬̮̘͊͋̾͂̊̎O̸͈͐́̀͋̕R̵̨͉̲̘̩͕̪̔̓̿̀Y̶̡̞͖̙̹͇̤͒̄̀͋̌̋͜ ̶̰̝̞͔̖̹͓͍͈̳̤͎̽̅̓͌̿̚ͅY̴̧̨̧̡̛͖͇͔̥͉̖͓͖͍̦̒̅͑͝͝Ǫ̵̛̯̬̮̳͕̞͙̝͚̥̣͂͊͗̄͛̏̌̔͗̄̌̎̿U̷̘̤̜̬̟̤͈̿́̈́͗̽̀͆͂̈̎̎̋̕ ̶̡̛̼͑́̿͗̀̇̀̄̒͗̾̽͘͘C̸̢̢͚͍͍̠̭̳͈̤̳̓̏̌́̿͋̾̂̏͌͜͝͝ͅA̴̯̎̎̇̏̅̋̇̓̓͒̈́͛̚N̸̛̜̗̣̩͔̩̭̰̥͖͜ͅ ̶̧̡͇͎̣͎̙̤͎̳̫̰̦͔͉̂̂̽̃̓̓̏̓̎̐̔̇Ŗ̵̯̝͕͈̜̦̳͙̫̼̰͊̑͛̅̕E̷̛̱̭̰̿̒͂̈́̅͆̐̂̀̆̕͘͝C̵̭̗͖̹̻̫̞̥͖͕͊̇A̵̛̞̜͇̠͖͎͍̱̤̮͎̖̋̀̾͗͗̈́͊̈́̉̂̍̔̋͜Ļ̶̰̝͙̲̮̪͓͍̝̞̪͊̀̄̊̅̂̽̍̓̊L̸̢̡̰̖̯͍͓̣̱̤͈̒͐͒͝

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

To Be or Not To Be a̶̱̠̓̂ ̷͙͓̆̈͝s̸̳̮̍́͝e̸̳͓͐̓͠n̵͇̋̋t̷͎͔̹͋̒̈́ì̷̺͕͙̍̚m̵̡͖͎̐̇o̸̞̿ņ̵̀͠s̷̻̫̉̑͝t̵̨͚̳̔͛͋e̸͍̯͙̒͑̀r̶̠̬͐ͅ

Dark.

Or is it just...the absence of light?

No. It's just...nothing.

Empty.

What is this?

What are they?

...

A voice.

"Sentinino," the voice said. "I am Shadowmoth. You will help me find Alya Cesaire."

Who?

Alya.

Alya Cesaire.

C̶r̴e̶a̷t̶e̴d̷ ̴i̴n̵ ̶t̷h̸i̷s̴ ̴w̸o̴r̴l̵d̵ ̴k̷n̴o̶w̷i̷n̸g̴ ̶n̷o̷t̵h̴i̵n̶g̶,̶ ̶b̷u̴t̸ ̶k̵n̶o̵w̷i̸n̷g̶ ̷e̴v̵e̸r̷y̶t̸h̸i̷n̴g̷.̴ ̸T̵h̴r̸o̷u̵g̵h̷ ̵h̸i̷m̷.̶

"Alya? Alyaaaaa," someone's voice said.

Was it his? Or...wait. Was it their own?

Time passed.

How many times had they(̴h̵e̶)̴ called?

Alya. They liked that name. (They liked their own voice, too. O̴r̸ ̵w̶a̷s̷ ̷i̸t̵ ̵h̸i̶s̸?̵)

Keep calling. Find her.

"Shh shh. Style Queen might hear you."

Another voice. Another human came.

"Here, your miraculous."

"Why are you the one giving it to me?"

Strange. They(̴h̵e̶)̴ never thought of asking a question.

"Ladybug gave me a mission while she's dealing with Style Queen. Transform yourself and go help her. I'll meet up later."

The fox went away.

....

That voice again.

Voice...Is he in control?

No, but..

..............

Yes. Follow his orders.

"Wayzz. Shell on!"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"It's because she had good partners!" he said.

"Pound it!"

Oh wow. That felt nice.

Focus. Detransform.

"I don't understand," Ladybug said. "It's been so easy I didn't even get to use my lucky charm."

Something...about a trap.

A trap?

Yes. We're(̷h̵e̸'̴s̴)̵ about to win.

...

Why did the other hum—no—Alya Cesaire raise her hand up?

Oh? High five.

Okay.

Woah. WOAH. That's so cool!

Interaction. Friends. It feels nice.

Feel.

Feelings?

Human. Yeah.

"We're gonna have to be a lot more careful now," the girl in spots said as she turned.

"Shadowmoth knows the identities of some of the people I've given a miraculous. And apparently, he's decided to use this information. Isn't that right?"

Huh?

"Shadowmoth."

.....

But..they are not him, though? A̴r̵e̶ ̷t̸h̶e̷y̶?̸

"I'm sorry, Alya. You better move away from him."

Wait.

"This isn't Nino."

No, but they're—

"It's a sentimonster."

.

.

.

Oh.

Sentimonster.

Monster.

Is that...wrong?

Is that not human?

Wrong. Something went wrong.

Wrong.

Where—

.̶.̶.̸.̴.̶.̵.̶.̸.̸.̴.̵.̶.̷.̶.̸.̴.̸.̵.̴.̷.̶.̶.̸.̴.̶.̵.̶.̸.̸.̴.̵.̶.̷.̶.̸.̴.̸.̵.̴.̷

Dark.

Or is it just...the absence of light?

No. It's just...nothing.

Empty.

What is this?

What are they?

...

A voice.

...

No. A memory. Or a...command?

What was it?

"I release you from your existence."

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

Yes i indeed have decided to publicize something i might (probably will) regret, proceed with caution

Her dad put food on her plate today.

Like two days ago when he called to teach her to cook, or three months ago when he took two chocolate bars, eating one and setting the other at her side of the table. These little things that filled her heart with warmth, it happened again today.

Dinner time has arrived and naturally, the house was a mess - people heading back and forth from the small kitchen to the big dinner table. She was on her way to get dinner herself. But as she turned the corner to the small kitchen space, she saw her dad already occupying it. Knowing better than to squeeze herself in, she immediately started to turn back until her dad's call caused her to go towards the kitchen again. He was in the middle of placing food on his plate - wait, it was her plate? It was in her hands now, given by her dad. While he went on to do something that's out of the kitchen, she made her way onto the table, pondering on her doubts of her dad's love. It's these little things that get to her after all. Knowing she always wanted to cook, he offered to teach her how to cook her favorite dish. Knowing her cravings for sweets after having her meal, he silently set aside a chocolate bar for her. It's these little things that convinced her that no matter how cold-hearted he may seem, he's always loved her.

So why..

"This is why I don't talk to you anymore."

..is it getting harder..

"What is your problem?!"

..to believe that?

Her father put food on her plate today.

She woke up in a hospital bed the next day.

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

i like how in the previous part i said "i wanna see how far i can go" then i proceed to just....not go HSHSHSHHS this is fun tho i have to admit

See i | See ii

"You...you don't remember anything, do you?"

Okay.

What the heck is she dreaming right now?

"No. No no no, I-I thought you would be immune-"

He's still talking, but she isn't paying attention anymore. Is this seriously that kind of scenario? 'She lost her memories, oh will she ever regain them', why on earth would she dream that?

Suddenly, she felt literal weight on her shoulders. The teenager boy's hands brought her to be all ears.

"-ody, listen to me. Trust me, okay?"

Their eyes met. His was brown in color, but dark enough to be considered black. It feels weird that she was paying attention to that.

"This is not a dream. I swear. This is not a dream."

Ah.

She looked to the side. Sure. She'll totally believe that.

The boy retreated his arms and crossed them.

"Mel, don't you dare not believe that," he said in a scolding tone.

Alright, then. Hold on, Mel? Is that her name?

"Yes, that's your name."

He nodded as he replied. Okay, cool.

...

Wait a second.

She abruptly turned right to where the boy was sitting, shocked at his response.

"Hey, hey, it's okay!"

He held up his hands, signalling surrender.

"I'm not a mind reader, okay? Calm down. I just figured you didn't know what your name was, and I've been calling you Mel for a while now. So, yeeaaahhh."

Admittedly, that was a big part of why she was shocked. But what she wanted to address was the name. That's not her name. Despite staying silent under the presence of this stranger, which is what seemed like common sense, she opted for him to know.

"Actually, it's-", she paused.

........

Haha oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

She can't remember what her name is. All right! So she does have amnesia, and this isn't a dream after all?

"What is it?"

The other person seemed to have noticed her stressful thinking. Weirdly enough, this guy seems nice, friendly and.....familiar.

Why does he look familiar?

Maybe she should just go along with it. If this is a dream, she'll wake up soon enough. If it isn't, she just had to make sure she can trust this young man.

"I was just wondering," she started to say, which immediately urged her need of food and water, "if it's not too much to ask, can you prove that I can trust you?"

She then proceeded to mentally slap herself, because why the heck did she ask for her freaking security so politely as if she'll take no for an answer.

She forgot this person, so he could either be a friend or a foe. He stayed at her bedside and didn't look like he slept at all. When she first saw him, he looked like he was just crying. So maybe they're close enough for him to be this deeply concerned. This boy also feels familiar. That alone is enough to conclude that she definitely stumbled upon this person before. But can she trust her gut feeling that screams 'He's very trustworthy'?

She should've slept it off. This much thinking is tiring her out. But as much as she wanted to completely disintegrate from exhaustion, she had to wait for his reply.

The maybe-not-a-stranger looked like he was thinking, but he definitely knows what to say. Maybe there's so much to say that he doesn't know what to state first?

"You," he finally said, "..you think bracelets and necklaces give you bad luck so we got matching earrings, instead."

That was such a ridiculous piece of information she cannot recall, but somehow she knew he was right.

He parted the ash-brown hair covering his ears to reveal small silver earrings shaped like puzzle pieces. Small silver earrings that she recognized. A pair of puzzle pieces she knew would connect with another.

The other pair they'd join with would be rose-gold.

She reached for her ears feeling for whatever decorated them. She couldn't see what they look like, but they felt like small squares. Puzzle pieces. Her earrings.

Her face must have failed to contain how awestruck she is because the person beside her, who witnessed the whole thing going down, tried holding in his chuckles. He then asked a question as if he knew how she would react to it.

"Do you wanna try and piece them together?"

HECK YEAH, SHE DOES!

Instead of stating coherent words as a response, she looked at him excitedly. Her realizing what had to be done caused her to behave.

"I can't take my earrings off without a mirror though," she stated, sounding more downhearted than she intended.

"I can take them off for you," he volunteered, "o-only if it's fine with you, of course."

He turned away at that last bit. Strange. He looks kind of pink, now.

"I'd actually like to go home first."

...is what she should say.

She should go back to her family because....well, because. That doesn't really need justification, does it?

But eventually, the words that came out of her were, "I'd actually like to go see outside first," as if it would be a place she could never recognize.

"Ah, of course! Don't worry, we'll move to a...more suitable and comfortable place soon," he said as he guiltily scanned the room like a butler who failed to provide the needs of the long-lost princess. "I'll just check if it's safe to go out yet-"

Dings and annoying vibrations in his pocket interrupted him.

He hastily took his phone out to check whatever caused it to make such a fuss. From the extreme and ironically careful scrolling the boy is doing, she assumed he was reading an abundant number of messages sent to him at the same time. Or maybe he didn't read all of them because he returned the phone to his pocket with a gentle smile on his face, perhaps satisfied with atleast one of the texts he received?

Considering his smile as the sign, she got off the bed and fixed up her hair with the gray hairtie she had on her wrist. The other person in the room seemed to be surprised.

"Something wrong?"

He smiled softly. "It's nothing, really."

There's definitely something. But before she could say anything, he went for the doorknob and frantically gave an explanation she never expected.

"Okay. So this might be crazy, but don't freak out. There's definitely a lot of things that won't make any sense and beyond reality but I promise I'll explain everything."

Well, that's comforting.

He took the lead and turned the knob. "You ready?" he asked nervously.

She shrugged. How bad can it be?

Apparently, she could never even imagine how bad it is because as the door opened to unveil what kind of view it was blocking from her sight, she threw away every hope of maintaining her sanity.

She has henceforth concluded that she has lost it.

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

there are so many other better directions this can go to but alas, my brain went 'oH shE's MAgIc nOw'. IMO this was good enough on its own one-shot but i wanna see how far i can go so take this as some sort of possible next scenario where all decency has dissipated-

She woke up in a hospital bed today.

Wait, what? This isn't right.

She was fine yesterday. What happened?

Wait.

Did she isekai into another world? Is she in a novel now?

....

Does that mean she died?

She sat up and touched both her cheeks in an attempt to show the surrounding air molecules how utterly shocked she is upon her reincarnation. Of course, that wasn't what happened. She looked at herself, or atleast the lot of herself that she can see. She still looks the same as before - same dark brown hair, same small scar on her forehead, same short stubby fingers. Okay, so cross 'died and reincarnated' off the imaginary list. She silently giggled at her own joke.

She then shook her head, returned her hands to their place on her cheeks, and imagined some possible scenarios that could have led her to be brought here. Here in this....this is a hospital bed, isn't it?

Looking around the small room, there wasn't anything other than the bed and a large rock. The room doesn't look like it's in a hospital. Sure, she's never been hospitalized but what she saw in most movies can't be wrong, can they? Where are the machines? Medical supplies? The actual doctors?? Also, who puts a rock on someone's bedside and why is it- oH GOSH THE ROCK IS ALIVE

She frantically took the blanket to capture the moving rock - wait. No, she shouldn't! It might declare war on humanity, then it would be the end of the world! But all the more reason why she should contain this, right?

She already trapped it, anyway. But still, to free or not to free? As she contemplated on the correct course of action that would lead to the least amount of damage, the rock spoke.

"...Mel?"

Oh no, it's calling reinforcements.

Okay, alright, calm down. She took deep breaths, in and out, and fell into thought. If this is reality, rocks can't talk. Or move on their own. So, maybe...

She freed the seemingly moving talking rock from underneath the blanket which was revealed to be, as she presumed, a human.

A normal, sleep-deprived human that was just waking up from an uncomfortable sleeping position. Not a supernatural rock....(oh thank goodness).

She sighed in relief and went back to bed, eyes closed and both hands resting on her stomach. The person at her bedside right now is a stranger. She has no memories of this dude, and she has no idea where she is, or how she got here. What better way to solve this predicament than sleeping.

"Hey..."

The rock - sorry, the guy spoke again. Nope. She is dead. Dead asleep. One cannot communicate with her right now.

"Come on, don't be like that."

His voice is a bit hoarse. Was he crying? He needs water. Oh, whatever, this world is devoid of anything that can get her to open her eyes.

"Please? We did what we came here to do so we can go back now. Do you think you can-"

She opened her eyes.

"Sorry, what?"

Instinctively, she covered her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. Moreover, she sounds weird. What on earth is this, puberty?

...

Well, she does feel a little longer.

She sat up and looked at herself again. Huh.

Her hair grew a bit. Her hands are still small, but they definitely weren't this big yesterday. Is she taller? Come to think of it, the scar on her forehead doesn't feel like a scar anymore - more like a short hit. She tried feeling the scar with her hand but she's having trouble finding it. No way. What? She's so confused and befuddled that she hadn't noticed how bothered the other person looked.

"You..."

Ah, she flinched at that. She wasn't focusing on the right thing. Right now, the most important thing is this person who acts like he knows her, and she's been ignoring him until he started saying something about going back. His voice was hoarse yet it was still soft when he talked. But just now, it gave her shivers. It was deep, a mix of mad and horrified and depressed and knowing. Knowing. She doesn't know what he's going to say next, but all she felt was fear, and the need to get out of here. This is how her dreams are always like.

"You..were reading?"

They're not real.

"We've been so patient with you."

But her feelings very much are.

"Why are you like this?"

So that means this is a dream, then. Knowing whether she's dreaming or not has always been hard. Waking up from these dreams, though, are usually easy. She probably should wake up already, but this one is interesting. She can stay a bit longer. Not like she has anything to lose, anyway.

"You...you don't remember anything, do you?"

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

this is slowly progressing to an unpleasant nightmare as chapters increase

I thought of naming it Existing By FAR (is the most _______ ever) now omit the parentheses and fill in the blanks with what you feel for each chapter i write. Like: Existing By FAR is the most horrifying thing ever. /hj

See i | See ii | See iii

No.

Just....no.

Chocolate buildings of varying kinds and designs towered over the sleeping cats lying on the ground that looks like the classic red and white checkered picnic blanket but it was the pattern of the planet's actual ground.

The sky above was filled with different colors of cotton candy which must be the equivalent of clouds that birds fly through, or in this case, gummy bears.

Yes. The gummy bears are flying. She, too, wishes to fly far faaaaar away.

.....

Is that a lollipop sun?

A faded image beyond the horizon caught her attention as she looked around.

Oh, would you look at that. Just like a mountain far from one's reach and is often a landscape view preserved in a picture be it through phone or photocard.

A strawberry fountain. A freaking strawberry fondue fou- whAT IS THIS%&^$#!?!?

No. Tired. She's too tired. Nope.

She went back inside on her way to become one with the bed.

"Wait, no! I swear, it's fine. Though it looks ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous?!" she shrieked, shifting from her prone position on the bed to look at the one who spoke, "Ridiculous, it's horrendous! Horrifying! No, no way. I'm not gonna process all that. Sorry, boy of my dreams. I'm gonna wake up, now."

Screw all signs of her actually having amnesia, she's getting out of here.

She tried opening her eyes to the real world, back to the bedroom, and wake up to the sound of the fan, quiet television in the living room, and the running washing machine outside since her mom would be doing the laundry early in the morning.

But no matter how hard she tried feeling that usually-easy-to-find line between fiction and reality...

Nothing.

She can't feel it.

She can't see it.

Nothing.

It's like trying to tug invisible curtain blinds only to find out that there's nothing to pull up. It's not there.

It's not.

She clutched onto the blanket, feeling its softness. Unless she ate something to make her hallucinate, or maybe there's a methane gas leak, the situation is somewhat clear to her.

This is real.

This is real.

So then why are there so many abominations outside?

Holograms? Virtual reality? Is this what they call The Matrix? She doesn't even know what that is!

"Just breathe," the boy said with a hint of distress though he was probably trying to calm her down. "It doesn't make sense but I promise, this is the truth. And you can be free to express your anger, excitement, sadness, anything! Just, please stay calm because.."

She has an idea of what this might be, without any digital devices or illusionment. But it wasn't an answer she was looking forward to.

"We....we're in another world."

"Come on, what the fuck."

Her parents would not like that she said that. But hey, she's done a fairly good job not cursing until now, hasn't she?

Still on the bed, she turned face up to lay on her back and covered her eyes, sighing from pure enervation.

For a few minutes, she laid there while the boy considerately waited. Or maybe he was getting annoyed but she gave up caring. She gave up thinking.

Her head usually filled with calculating thoughts now run blank. She should think about what her next move will be, but she feels empty. Drained. Laying down is so relieving, though. So she stayed like that. She'd stay like that forever, if she could.

......

Ugh, fine.

After a deep breath in and out, she sat up.

"What's your name?" she asked to the other person who had been leaning on the wall, hearing coldness in her voice that she hadn't meant to direct at him.

"...Would you like that in full name, first name, or nickname?" he softly responded.

"All of the above, please."

If she forgot a lot of things, she might as well know everything.

...

He looked sad.

"I'm..so sorry," she started. She hated being mad at others.

"I was rude. I..I didn't mean to be like this-"

"No! No, please. It's okay. I promise. Don't...don't worry."

He looks sadder now, but he managed to show a small smile.

"Zachary. Zachary Louis Dee. Of course, you can call me Zach, for short, like everyone else does but.....you call me Zed sometimes."

Seemingly shy, he rubbed the back of his neck.

Zed, huh? She would come up with that nickname. Z being the first letter of his first name, his last name starting with D, pronunciation of 'z' being 'zed' in some places, it was a lame attempt. That's a trademark of her naming style.

Unless it wasn't her who came up with it, otherwise she just insulted a random stranger.

Before she could ask, he – ....Zachary – continued to speak.

"I know it's sort of shocking and weird and just plenty but you'll be at peace to where we'll be heading. It's calmer there, with way less sugar and.....dead cats."

What.

Eyes wide, she looked at him demanding a take-back because no, she was NOT going to accept that those cats were dead.

"Ther- What are you- Oh."

'Oh' indeed.

Panic made its way to be clear in his eyes, or atleast she thought so.

"I-I mean they're not dead dead. They're dead but it's not bad like death. They're zombies, but they don't bite. I MEAN-"

"Is it some sort of a normal or natural phenomenon in this world?"

Zachary looked like he wanted to explain all of it.

"Y-yes...They-they're meow zombies-"

"Okay, sorry. When we get to the place, can I just read a book about it?"

She's not gonna process anything without a book.

"Of course," he said with the knowing voice like before, back when he questioned her memory. Except now, it's in a lighter tone. Like a friend who understands why their companion would want a book instead of a discussion.

Zach made his way to the door and for the second time, he held the knob. This time, he made sure.

"Are you ready?" he asked as if they'll be going to battle.

"Just open it," she replied with a chuckle.

It's been a while since she's felt this light.