a mess of unfinished thoughts

Ash fell all-round, coating the air and painting it grey. Flakes of soot and coal danced like drunken butterflies wherever they looked. The blast had turned the sky red, like the blood of the many dead around them. Even as the world caved in around them, they couldn't help but notice the inescapable beauty of their destruction, a final triumph - whether that was a victory for nature or humanity, none knew. A half-burned newspaper was tossed carelessly near them, declaring doomsday. Their wine bottle near empty and their hearts full of guilt, sadness, regret, emotions that they could not and did not want to face. Bodies that ached and cried not for them, but for all they couldn't do. When eyes locked, an overwhelming evince of love and understanding poured as though a balloon had finally burst. They were all they had of each other.  3 hours ago, the men in suits pressed a button that changed everyone's lives. Or rather, ended them. Numerous atom bombs released all over the w...

  “The colours seem a little more faded, and the stars a little less bright, without you in my life.” They stopped reading at the first sentence, crumpling up the letter they had found on the otherwise empty desk and throwing it into the overflowing waste bin. They did not want to dwell on the past, and yet…they were standing here, in a room they had not stepped foot in for years. Everything was just as it was when they last left it, and it seemed that nothing had changed, a piece of their history left untouched by the rapidly changing world beyond the walls of the room. “What a lifetime ago,” they whispered to themself, as the wooden floorboards creaked beneath their feet. And it was certainly a lifetime ago. The door was sealed shut long ago, and it took a day’s worth of work to pry it open. And once it was open, they could not decide if they wanted to step into the past and reminisce of times where life was not nearly as complicated, or if they wanted to seal it once again, ...

  She wasn’t there, of course. She hadn’t been there, dancing with you in your childhood home, for over a year now - ever since she fell sick. But sometimes you pretended she was. Sometimes, on days like today when the moon shone bright through the curtains and a hush seemed to descend over the neighbourhood, it felt like she was only a step away; and if you turned around just fast enough, walked just one step further, she’d be smiling at you like nobody else in the world was more perfect. Maybe it was love, maybe pride. She looked at you like you were the most exquisite thing she created. You placed the needle down on the record player and let the music wash over you, letting you forget how it felt to watch her leave, watch her eyes dull as she faded away. No. This night was no place for that. You danced the steps like she’d taught you, with light, fleeting footsteps and a smile on your face. And if you focused very, very hard, you could almost imagine her there with you; gui...

 She looked up, mesmerized by the stars. Twinkling, as if winking at her from the beyond. They dotted the purple swath of sky, diamonds in a dark ocean. She raised her hand straight up, talking excitedly about constellations and zodiacs while the sheep listened. She poured her heart out to the stars, and while they couldn’t talk back, they listened. She could tell they listened.  The crickets, the sheep and the stars were enough to keep her company forever. The soft grass, the cool wind and the crickets slowly lulled her to sleep.

What is freedom? Are we really free or have we been dolls from the very beginning in the gallantry of the much stronger Gods who created this almost perfect appearance for us? In fact, what is the price of freedom? Is it the exchange of an eye or a hand, a hair or a tooth? Maybe it's so expensive that we have to deprive ourselves of the feelings and thoughts that make us human, just to achieve a little bit of freedom. Maybe this is just the false freedom we get drunk with every day. It is important to know who you are in this world. An ant, a leaf, a traitor, a coward. For the thousandth time, with my hands resting on the cold broken stone steps, whole body trembling, I rebel against my own mind with the help of my thoughts. Knees weakened, infiltrated by the cracks created by time, discoloured and pinched, that seemed to extinguish the fire in my veins. My fingers extend painfully, touching the black marble throne, turning into skeletal creatures. Among the golden pillars that...