Category: Story

Leaving the ocean of mediocrity, a rebel sought for a shelter in the wavy mind of nature, hoping for getting the last breath to the fullest. Knowing or not knowing its day or night. Though being a soldier of an extinct army, he felt the urge to not try. But little did he knew, the waves sent by the cruel nature, gave him the unknown satisfaction of feeling the air through his nasal corridors. All was unplanned as the rules of the society. The hidden mercy that those salty elements only can provide.

Once again, not seeking, the soldier had no reason to give up. To the shore of pearly sand, he finds the sun arguing with him. No one recognises him but the humming sound of the very being that saved him to realise, what he always taken for granted.

He settles for, making it a day, but little did he knew, it was just a little wait for achieving what he was wanting from the beginning. The thoughts he carried for the time being. The hope he destroyed for feeling the relief. He calls for mercy but the hum never appears.

He slows down, as he intended. Nor the waves nor the sun stands with him. He achieved what be wanted. He felt what he never hoped for, as the crows saw the option to freak.

A dream full of absurdity, taken its end at the corner of a hemisphere. All the ideas, written and unwritten vanished like it never existed. All memories and ideas boiled as the sun trying to force its existence. Like a death of consciousness, to not be written.

In smoothing line of transparency, the body hits the bush, revealing the earnest sensations disguised as pain. Nor the brain needs it, nor the heart. It’s just there to make the “need” a way to its chosen place. Whoever touches the bush, makes it their fireplace. Nor the bush burns nor the body. But surely the brain and heart that disguised the pain.

All of a sudden, there’s a scream! No, it’s not the soul. It’s not the body either. It’s the bush who gave the eternity of story the reason to burn. To glow like it meant to be. To make the people around it feel warm.

The bush burns, as the body gets cremated. Everyone’s with the bottle of blood, thinks it’s an amazing hour not to think. But, but… they hardly know the thought of this cosmic creature, reddening in the bush, took their glass of thinking to serve the blood that’s pure as the rays of the sun.

The fire ends, so the scream. The glasses enjoyed, so the bush. The smell fades away but not the story…