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#Prose

Through Smoke and Screen

Click! click!
Scrolling and scrolling… mindless liking.
My eyes, red and burning from the constant screen light.
How long ago was it when I first woke up?
The time at the corner of my screen read too many hours past my bedtime.

A strange weight pulled my smile down.
Was it guilt? Regret? Or just exhaustion?
As reality dug through my senses, strong fumes reached my nose,
different from the usual reeking scent of old milk and the colorful array of spills on the carpet floor.
I remained emotionless—numb to care, numb to worry.

“It’s too much work!” a voice cried out from the deep echoes of the dark.
It was right. Scrolling was easier. Forgetting was easier.
My eyes danced back across my screen.
Moving objects brought excitement and laughter.
I was weirdly hypnotized by the fast-moving shots.
Strangers piqued my interest as I fixated on them putting on makeup and combing their hair.

Then the smell returned stronger. It filled my lungs,
clouding my head with its scent.
It was familiar, reminding me of hot summer days and parties,
pictures and yard games.
The memory of the unforgettable taste of grilled meat and veggies made my mouth water,
but I wanted to forget.
I didn’t want to go back, so I ignored it all.

I opened the comments, feeling the rush,
the hard collision between supporters and haters.
Terms like “Sigma” and “Cringe” seemed to be the only language I understood
as another comment fight started.

But when pictures of friends popped up, I stopped laughing.
Perfect lives, perfect people—red and black clouded my head.
Nevertheless, I liked it and moved on.

The fire that once lived in my soul

Hungry for more was cooled.

It was flattened out and turned to ash.

How long ago was it when I last touched grass?
Cold burrowed its home in my heart as I found myself
hating a person I’d never met.
The heat from the screen burned my flesh as I aimlessly scrolled again.

I got good at reading people based on posts—
who was a cat person who loved Harry Potter fanfics,
compared to a dog lover who worshipped video game characters.
To me, there was nothing more to a person than their posts.
It was who they were and nothing more.

My bright room, once filled with printed pics of friends,
posters of favorite bands,
tables of abandoned projects,
was now turned into something of the past.

Orange light peeked through my door,
engulfing the dark.
Random clothes lay all over the floor,
starting to turn black.
The red, white, yellow, and orange bled into the walls,
dancing around my bed.

It took a while for the panic to register.
I watched as the flames grew bigger.
The heat reddened my skin.
My eyes widened in horror.

Then it struck me like a lightning bolt.
Using the last 10% of battery life I had left,
I dialed 9-1-1.

But the roaring of the flames burning through everything in their path
made me accept my fate… toast.
I tried smashing the window,
but the glass wouldn’t break.

Closing my eyes, I let the heat crawl closer.
Memories of laughter and forgotten dreams replayed in my mind.
It hit me then—what had I truly done with my time?

As the fire consumed my world, I realized
it wasn’t the flames that scared me.
It was the emptiness.

Water dripped from my face.
I thought of those I would lose,
when I realized I had already lost them.
I lost the things that mattered,
wasted the new opportunities that came my way

Sitting hopelessly, I was more than ready
to give in and let everything go
when they came with their heavy boots and pounding footsteps
They scooped me up and took me out,
and I cried in their arms.

They thought it was the fire,
but it was more—more than I could ever describe in words.

When the cold air finally touched my bones,
I opened my eyes again,
feeling the clean air make its way through my polluted soul.

A week later, sitting in my front yard,
feeling the dewy grass under my soft hands,
I relived the yells of others,
Their urgency is a strange contrast to my calm.

A mix of a nightmare and peace washed over me,
a reminder of how close I came to losing it all.
But this wasn’t an end—it was the start.

For the first time in ages, the world outside my screen felt alive.
I noticed the cool breeze brushing my skin,
the birds singing their morning songs,
the laughter of my friends calling me back to them.

A smile crept onto my face as I joined them,
each step grounding me, each laugh pulling me back.

We drove somewhere far, far away,
our voices filling the air with stories and dreams,
the glow of our shared moments brighter than any screen.

It wasn’t just about making up for lost time.
It was about choosing to live,
to cherish what I almost let slip away,
and to finally let the warmth of life—not the heat of regret—
fill my heart.

Through Smoke and Screen Read More »

Crafting My Universe: Insights on World and Story Building

It is more about the world within the story—more about the characters, and how you feel an intangible connection with them. You can almost touch and talk to them, even though they are bound to the page.

 

It is more about not knowing than knowing, because the life we write on the page can never truly be planned. Writers are gods to their stories, yet they have no control over where the story will take them. We are both creators and followers, swept along by the tides of the worlds we build. 

 

I guess the point I am coming to is this: writers are the few who can portal-jump. We travel across universes to places that readers can only visit within the boundaries of leather-bound covers. We are not writing from our heads but from our hearts, from memory. We are writing what we are seeing—transcribing the intangible into words that breathe life into the page.Planning does little, for the worlds we create—like the world we live in—cannot be planned. They unfold with a rhythm of their own, unpredictable yet perfect in their chaos. And that is where the magic lies.

Crafting My Universe: Insights on World and Story Building Read More »

The Start of Something Great

When the creator first started, I was a pile of mush, a splatter of something that wasn’t defined yet. I was blank, but I knew I was the beginning of something meaningful, but what? What was I supposed to be? I was hungry for something to feed my shapeless body. So the creator fed me, and I slowly got a few angles and corners. But I was still hungry, my embodiment wanted more of this magic mixture. So the creator gave me some more. Slowly I felt a tingle. My undefinable self looked more familiar to the eyes that surrounded me. The blob features and crazy angles I had before took on different shapes. But still, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more so the creator took a moment and stared into my hollow soul. He/she then dug around in his/her pockets and pulled out random items from his/her hat, but nothing he/she found pleased him/her. Until the creator found a bag that shined brighter than a light bulb. Inside was a string, a wisp of something yummy, something that looked amazing, and one of a kind. Each wisp had a different color and a different vibe. And the creator fed me this sweet string. Soon I felt my body, and the shapes that made it up became more connected and more composed. I had turned into something different. I was no longer a blob or a collection of figures. I was something more. The Creator fed me more and more wisps all of which tasted different but equally delicious. I was turning into something amazing. But my soul still felt hollow. I had a thirst for something euphoric. Then the creator poured something into my essence that made it no longer empty but filled with buzz, and energy. I felt that finally I had come to life. Color filled my lungs and mind. Now I can speak and communicate my meaning. I was now enlighted about my purpose in this world that was taking shape and color. The creator smiled at me. I looked around, there were more like me but we didn’t all look the same, or do the same thing. However, I could see that we all started the same way. We all were once blobs without a shape, soul, or mind. However, as our journey began we began changing in different ways that made each one of us unique. The Creator told us that we weren’t flawless, and weren’t what he/she had in mind initially. Nevertheless, he/she was happy with the outcome, and so were we. I looked out to my peers, and together we all shared a smile and we thanked the creator for giving us shape, soul, and a mind.

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The Spark

The sun is about to set, the day is about to be over. The colors pink, blue, purple, orange and slight yellow fill the sky. The faraway sounds of chatter start to fade over the crashes of the ocean waves that crash over the shore. The hot sand under my feet is now cold as I take off my sun hat. The cool air sways my hair. I take some more steps before taking a seat and while I walk, thoughts swirl through my head. The beach is empty except the few people I have left behind that are now disappearing in the view. I take a seat on top of a huge rock and watch the ocean, the waves, the sky and think….

What is life?

Why am I here?

What is the connection between me and the world?

I watched the ocean waves crash onto the shore leaving the treasures of faraway places on the sand. The seagulls over my head start flying towards the sun. I smile when a tiny spark catches my eyes, I run to see what it is. A small white pebble laid there on the soft sand. How can this little thing be so bright from faraway?

I held the beautiful stone, I held it close to my heart, closed my eyes, and thought of  nothing except the light of the white sparkling pebble and suddenly I felt the glow of the pebble. My tired and weak legs felt strong, my sleepy brain felt wide awake and healthy. I felt that the pebble was part of me like my hands and legs my nose and mouth, but stronger. I felt refreshed, more positive, and calm. I felt like I could do anything. I felt like I was more than who I thought I was, and I know I am part of something big.

I opened my eyes  and smiled as I  looked at the vast ocean once more and walked my way back home with the stone in my hands.

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The Spark Read More »