A "bright" fairy tale
Once upon a time, there was a cheerful girl. Her smile was brighter than the sun—a warm, carefree one. She smiled at everyone she met, both young and old. She spread the pleasant shine all around. The more she smiled at people, the happier she felt, like the undying flame of a candle. You don't believe it exists until you see it.
People around her, on the other hand, were not as cheerful as her. It was very much the opposite, in fact. Their dark, gloomy faces with dark, gloomy eyes, like vengeful spirits, wore the most pained expressions. They were jealous, you see, of her beautiful smile. They didn't possess one of their own, so whenever she was full of joy, they were full of hatred.
One day when she was on her way, they all gathered around. Trapped her from each direction, there was no exit to be found. Scared and confused, she tried to talk reason, but there was no stopping the crowd. They had to destroy her, to kill off her innocent smile. They kicked, they pulled, and they pushed her around. Her hair was disheveled, and so were her clothes, the tears falling freely down her reddened cheeks. That's when one of them stepped forward and grabbed the small shaking body. It was a nightmare among nightmares, a crime against her virgin flesh.
She lay there, on the cold ground, around her a puddle of tears and blood. She stood up on shaky legs and fixed her clothes. She looked around the cold city and thought it was a pity that all of them were so miserable and sad. "It's decided! I'll give them some of my light!" And that's precisely what she did.
She walked with her head up, the bright smile still on her lips. She marched down the once grim streets, now filled with warm glow. She looked through each window, searching for the sparks she planted in people's eyes.
It worked perfectly. Who would have known that a dark city as this one can burn so beautifully?
---
All those awkward hellos
Greetings are easy…right? I mean, it's just a simple word, a means to show your good manners. If that's the case, why are so many hellos so hard to utter? It's almost like an achievement you unlock every time you manage to say a proper Hello without turning into a blushing mess or stuttering on your words. How is it that "Goodbye" is so much easier than "Hello"? Shouldn't an ending be harder than the beginning of something unknown? Hold that thought. I see the problem. It's the unknown part, isn't it? It's what lurks in the shadows. No wonder we are so afraid. No wonder we can't urge ourselves to dwell into the darkness, which is a new relationship. When I say relationship, of course, I don't mean that only in a romantic way. Hmm, maybe relationship is the wrong word to use. Let's call it a connection. Throughout our whole life we establish all kinds of connections, starting with the ones among family members. Those may look like the easiest to maintain, but that isn't even half true. It's the same with everyone, whether they share your blood or not. You will still be faced with another human being, subjected to their own ideals and views on everything. Yeah, it ain't even a bit easy, but you know what? That's the best part. The challenge, the opportunity to test your limits, to grow and become wiser. But let's get back to our main subject.
How come it's much easier to communicate with animals? Is it because of the different species? Is it because they can't talk back? Well, that's not entirely true. They can, but we don't quite understand their language. Here's a simple answer – animals can't harm you…on purpose. They can harm you physically in a certain situation, but it's never because they just want you to suffer. Only humans are "blessed" with such wicked ideas, and, oh, how they love to abuse that opportunity.
We fear other people. It's in our nature to do so, and with good reason. You never know what to expect, and I've found myself disappointed in 9 out of 10 cases. So, with such a low chance to find someone, who won't step all over me, what reason do I have to not hide behind my safety wall? Fighting constantly, being brave can only last so long. At one point you just want everything to stop, everyone to disappear, the world around you to fall into the sweet embrace of silence, the gentle melody of solitude. Instead of talking too much, people need to learn to listen. Instead of being obnoxious, they need to try and walk a mile in someone else's shoes, see the world from their point of view. Only then can their opinion be something more than mere bias. There are always two sides of a coin, two sides of a story, two sides of a mirror. Yes, I AM serious about the last one.
Not everyone, who doesn't greet you, is a bad person. Not everyone, who smiles at you, is a good person. Be the bigger person, be the better person. Not for others, but for you. Don't feel bad, because you're awkward or anxious. You're only human, nothing more and nothing less. Perfectly imperfect.
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Endless questions
"Just because I don't have a penis doesn't mean I can't love you!"
"But I can't."
There it is. The painful realization your feelings don't matter. Even acknowledged, nothing will become of them. They will roam aimlessly, never to find the shelter they had hoped for.
"You could have said it in a nicer way!"
That's not true. There is no other way to say it. Whether now, a day later, or even a week later, nothing will change. The Band-Aid will have to be pulled off eventually, and it will always hurt, no matter how much you convince yourself of the opposite.
"I'm sorry."
No. Don't. Anything but apologies. They achieve nothing but make the pain stronger. Why would you apologize for not sharing someone's feelings? You don't have the obligation to do so. A heart cannot be tampered with or modeled after someone's desires, though many have tried. Love is either there or it's not, as simple as that. Any other feeling, which even slightly resembles it, may fool many, but love in itself is one of a kind, and only those who have truly experienced it are aware of the difference.
"Is it because I'm not a man?"
The need for affirmation grows with every single second. We go through that phase throughout our whole lives. Even as kids, we always seek approval of everything we do. It determines our future ideals and the way we view ourselves.
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Then what? Am I not good enough?"
Why do we often turn to self-deprecation? Is that really the right way, or is it the only one we see when we feel heartbroken? Do we become blind, or downright silly, when it comes to matters of affinity? Logic and common sense are nowhere to be found.
"Nothing of the sort. I just don't feel the same way. Doesn't matter how many times you ask me and all the different questions you'll come up with, the answer will remain the same."
It feels cold, doesn't it? Cold and heartless. But it actually isn't. It's for the best. The truth should always be clear, no matter the circumstances. We can think of endless different reasons to hide it in order to justify our actions or feelings, but that never helps. It's only a temporary solution. Sooner or later, the truth will triumph above all else. The more the situation shifts, the greater the hurt. You can do yourself a favor and accept it early on, instead of going to great lengths to conceal something, which should have never been hidden in the first place. Life is short enough; don't make it even shorter.
---
Life's unwilling customer
Did I take a step? I look down at my trembling legs. Of course not. The sidewalk is the only place for me. The road ahead is a scary, dark forest. It's a tunnel with no end. A path that ends in nothingness. I want to make the first step. I want to escape. I want to! I want to…but I can't. I'm stuck here, trapped by all my insecurities. They've tied me down like the web of a spider, never to be free again. Never to experience what the rest of the world feels like. What was it again? What led to this situation? Since when have I been in this prison I've created on my own? How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? Or maybe…years? I gulp hard. The lump in my throat is still present, making it as hard to breathe as usual. Where did my will disappear to? Why did it run away? I gave it all the trust I could manage. I believed in myself. Wasn't that enough? Apparently not. Or maybe it was them I trusted the most… The ones who chained me to this wall, little by little, shackle by shackle. Made the chain just long enough for me to move around, but not escape. It's like right there, in front of me, they drew a line I can't cross. One bound with a curse, the curse of my own weakness.
I slide down to the ground, once again drowning in endless tears. The screams, which fill my head, are not even coming out anymore. They run through my mind, pounding against its walls like the loud ringing of a bell tower. The sensation slowly drives me insane, leaving me on the brink of madness, just when I thought I would finally be free. Yes, it would be much easier if I could finally lose it, if I let go of common sense—the main reason for this pain. Just leave! Go away! No one needs you anymore! Can't you hear me?! I don't care! Leave me alone! Let me be free… If I can't win, at least grant me this bit of freedom... The freedom of being numb to everything… Just my luck, I don't even deserve this much… Figures…
"What the hell are you doing on the ground?!" a voice echoes in the empty dark space.
"What did I fight this long for?? To see the sobbing, trembling mess that's become of you?!"
Stop it. Don't do this.
"Get the hell up!"
Please, don't. Not again.
"Get up, you coward!"
Shut up! I'm not a coward!
"Get up and show them what you're made of!!"
Why do you always do this? Why do you keep calling out to me? Why do you keep pulling me back from the darkness, just as it's about to consume me? Why do you have to stick around? Why do you feed me with small fragments of hope? Is this your twisted hobby? Am I your guinea pig? Do you take pleasure in seeing me struggle endlessly? Curse you! CURSE YOU!
The dark fog lifts up, and I can finally see clearly. I blink a bit, blinded by the sudden light that surrounds me. So I'm back here once again, huh? Same as always. A never-ending loop. A merry-go-round, which I'm constantly on. Life's unwilling customer.
---
The beauty of tears
Have you ever looked in the mirror after crying? Have you ever seen your own tears? Your own face when it's the most vulnerable and honest? Do you realize how beautiful it is? These little salty drops are terribly underrated.
A sign of weakness? Absolutely not! Tears are the shortcut to a human's soul. A person who reveals their soul to you, who entrusts you with something so priceless, that person is far from weak. That person is the strongest of them all because they can bare their soul and still stand up and move on. A person who gives way to their true feelings. Doesn't lie to themselves or others. A person who lives through their pain in order to be free of it will come out of the battle even stronger than before. The one who doesn't know what it's like to cry…they're only half human. Just an empty shell. What's the point in that? What is life without emotions, the ones that build it and move it forward?
Hurts, doesn't it? I know. Drive your fist into the wall; I know you want to! Scream as much as your voice allows; that's how it should be! Suffer for the things that matter! Give your tears for what you believe in! They are the purest expression of feelings, the most beautiful sight, even in sorrow. Though they cause pain, they also heal it. When you say goodbye to them, when you let them leave your eyes, little by little you also let go of the pain.
That is why I am not afraid to cry. That is why I am not scared of my own reflection in the mirror, or my eyes and cheeks soaked with tears. That is why I can cry again and again, and afterwards I will stand up with a smile and face the next challenge. That is why I'm human!
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To play or not to play
Video games—the alternate universe we like to dwell in just a tad too long. What is it about them? What makes them so irresistible, so appealing and time-consuming? Is it the complete control we have over a character in a game, something we usually lack in reality? Or is it the beautiful fantasy world, which doesn't exist outside the computer screen? It's a common saying: you can achieve anything you set your sights on. I'd like to see the person who came up with that saying tame a dragon or rule over an entire kingdom. Completely random examples, of course, the source of which is endless.
As a past, present and future "victim" of video games, I believe I am qualified enough to relay my thoughts on the matter. To me, video games are first and foremost an escape from reality, as is the case for millions of other people. Just like books, they are a portal to different worlds. Other than that, it's simply fun and engaging. It's a chance to experience something impossible in our reality. Of course, like any kind of pleasure, this one also has a price tag. It demands time, money, and physical health. And don't get me started on the psychological influence. Like everything else, as long as you play with a clear sense of moderation, there is nothing to worry about. Once you stray from that goal, the consequences pile up in no time. Headaches, lack of sleep, exhaustion, unhealthy obsession, and isolation from the world around you. The list is long.
Games are fun; there's nothing wrong with indulging in them from time to time. I mean, hey, we are offered countless different realities, including our own. Why not kill multiple birds with one stone? The key is a healthy balance. As long as you remember that, you can be a citizen of as many worlds as you wish.
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Achromatic
The sound of cracking glass under someone's boots.
The buzzing of a fly in the next room.
The rapid breathing, caused by an adrenaline rush.
The slight clicking of a gun being reloaded.
Five seconds until impact.
The loud sound of a gunshot in the silence of the abandoned building.
My opponent's body sliding down to the ground with a clear thud sound.
The puddle of blood, gathering below the body.
Bidding farewell to a fleeting life.
The one, who hesitates loses.
That's how it's always been.
That's how it will always be.
The cycle repeats endlessly.
Human life doesn't have a price…only in theory.
In actuality, it's shockingly cheap.
It costs a single bullet, a couple at most.
All aimed at the right places.
You simply need to hit the vital points.
Such is the knowledge of a trained Hitman – the dirtiest job imaginable.
Knowledge is power, but it's also pain.
The more you know…well, you're already familiar with the saying.
The endless sleepless nights.
The constant gamble between life and death.
The world is rotten to its core.
Even if you don't see it, it's there.
Even if you refuse to believe it, its existence lurks in the darkness,
beneath the deceptive rays of the sun.
At the end of each day comes night.
At the end of each life comes death.
At the end of each gun there's a target.
Humanity is black and white.
You choose your side.
It's inevitable, though.
Darkness will always triumph over the light.
Even the purest soul can turn evil.
Even a coward can shoot a gun.
Even I can survive until my luck runs out.
Once you're in, there's no turning back.
Normal life is but an illusion.
Such is the sad reality of the criminal underworld.
---
Cotton candy clouds
A deep fog. Fluffy cotton candy clouds. A comfortable embrace. Deep fried cheese sticks. Stuffed animals. A warm blanket. The familiar aroma of a cup of tea. A relieved sigh. Slight shivers down your back. Eyelashes flickering. Lips slightly open. Ephemeral images. Elusive silly smiles. Ethereal spider webs. The sea breeze. The patter of raindrops outside your window. Fluttering wings. Someone's silky-smooth lips. Bunny paws. A ray of sunlight shining through gently swaying curtains. The scent of lavender. The rhythmic clacking of high heels. Ocean waves rising. A distant call of thunder. And you heart that will never be the same again.
Your angry, loud boss scares the ever-living hell out of you. You have once again fallen asleep on the job.
---
Kenopsia—the eerie atmosphere that emanates from a completely abandoned place that once sheltered many people and was filled with noise and conversation.
I've read the article; I'm aware of what I'm doing—and yet, why? Why, for heaven's sake, am I here?? Is it really that hard for a person to stay away from something they know won't do them any good? Do we really have to be this self-destructive...?
And yet! Let me think logically and calmly for once in my reckless life. This is a school building. Nothing more than a school, which right now is a little… well, okay, very run-down and completely abandoned. It's not like I showed up late at night. I'm not here on someone else' whim or taking on a challenge. Except my own… I suppose. Since I'm here anyway, I might as well take a look around, just for a little while.
I take a tentative step and a piece of glass cracks under my sneakers. Good start. The stairs leading to the main hallway are carpeted with broken bricks, shattered glass, and plaster. It looks as if someone set out to tear the building down to its foundations but found the work to be too much.
To my right is a narrow room with a small wooden table, clearly visible since the glass is almost entirely gone. The door is hanging by a single hinge. I suppose this was the security guard's room. I step inside, and my suspicions are confirmed. On the table, covered in a thick layer of dust and plaster, sits a "Security" sign alongside the name of the former guard. I wonder what kind of person he was.
To the left of the small room is a staircase leading to the second floor. I chase it out of my mind for the time being, as I'd like to finish exploring the first floor first. I set off down the long hallway. On both sides there are an equal number of rooms—a cleaning staff room on the left, a storage room on the right, and, of course, classrooms. Their number plaques are either chipped or lying on the floor. Did certificates or paintings once hang on these now-bare, peeling walls? Did the spaces between the classrooms once house the school's pride—the hard work of quite a few students? Memories of my own high school flood my mind. Those were good times.
I sigh loudly with a wry smile. I miss the teachers—at least most of them—and, as ridiculous as it may sound, I miss rushing down the hallways to the next class. As was fitting, some of those classes were held in specialized labs. I was a complete failure when it came to chemistry, but oh, how I loved the room with all its test tubes lined up in display cases along the wall. That is, when they weren't grilling me on a low heat during exams. A very important factor. Oh, and the physics lab, too! How could I have forgotten? I had such a crush on the physics' teacher… A dangerous topic!
I shove such thoughts into the deepest recesses of my mind, where they belong. I didn't come here to reminisce about the past. So what exactly did I come here for? To prove to myself what an idiot I am? Right on the money!
I pick a random classroom and open the door. It falls to the ground with a loud crash, giving me a real scare. While I'm still recovering from the shock, a mouse, startled by the noise, scurries past me. Great—now I regret my "brilliant" decision even more. Where the hell did that mouse come from, anyway? I doubt it'll find any food here of all places.
I step over the wooden door lying on the dirty floor. The classroom is just a classroom—nothing particularly special. The teacher's desk, the big blackboard, the rows of desks, the lockers for students' belongings at the back of the room. Most of them are surprisingly locked. Only one is slightly ajar. Could the mouse have popped out from there? I walk past the desks and, carefully—praying that at least this little door is sturdier—open the locker all the way.
Now I'm praying for something entirely different. Why am I even praying?? I have to get out of here, now! I knew this a terrible idea! Whoever killed the man stuffed in the locker is very likely still lurking around. As much as I long for my high school days, this isn't what a proper return to school should be like!
"If you try to run, kid, it's going to hurt a lot more."
Damn it! I'm rooted to my spot, paralyzed even. The man is approaching with measured steps. I don't see him carrying a weapon, but that doesn't guarantee anything. Could I overpower him and escape? Maybe, if I stop shaking!
"Let me guess. You're here because of some stupid dare. TikTok or some other nonsens like that. You young people just haven't learned your lesson." The killer shakes his head in disappointment.
Instinctively, I look away and reluctantly direct my gaze toward the disfigured body in the locker.
"That's right. Your instincts are on point. I took the liberty of teaching a member of your generation a little lesson. You'll be next." The man grins and pulls out a bloodstained knife from one pocket on his worn jacket and brass knuckles from the other.
My first reaction at the sight of the weapons is to scream for help. Extremely smart in an abandoned and completely unguarded building. But that never happens. It's as if something is stuck in my throat. My voice refuses to come out. My panic grows. The man keeps approaches me, menacingly. The smile never leaves his face. I try to run to the other side, but he jumps over one of the desks and cuts off my escape route.
"It's no use, kid. Class has started. Everyone should to be in their seats!" The brass knuckles glint before they meet my face.
I wake up, drenched in about a liter of sweat. I look around the room like a startled rabbit. A cool morning breeze blows in through the open window, billowing the sheer curtain—a gift from my mother. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and rub my temples. My phone is lying next to my pillow. I grab it immediately and, without a moment's hesitation, delete almost all my social media accounts.
Later, the same thing happens to the article about abandoned buildings that I had downloaded on my laptop. Kenopsia? Not in this lifetime!