That morning I woke up early. As I opened my eyes I saw the sun rays getting through the window of my small dark room. I had been living in a cottage for more than three months, but now my stay in that place was over for I was soon going to the city. “There isn’t anything holding me back here” I thought and got up. I put a dress on; it was more elegant than my usual ones. It had a charcoal black color and laces in the waist. It was gothic style dress, that is. The floor creaked as I stepped on it and the door did so as well, after all, the cottage was fairly old. Outside there was a small garden, with some vegetables, some onions and pumpkins. Those were the vegetables that were on season, it was autumn. The small house was in the suburbs of a larger town and it belonged to my uncle. I closed the door behind me and started walking on a road that seemed immensely long. That a carriage would be waiting for me near the forest was what my uncle had written in his last letter. I remember it well; the envelope was sealed with red wax. View full article »
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“I’m a failure, yes, that’s right, a total failure…” I said to myself as I stared at the floor. I was trapped in that daily routine with no escape. There was nothing I could do and as if that wasn’t enough I also had to deal with the pressure of my studies. Another disappointment, yet another time I didn’t meet my expectations… another time I felt worthless, unattractive. But the worst part of it all is that it’s my fault, mine alone. I can’t cope when I’m stressed, I know that but when I can’t cope I get stressed, it’s a never ending circle. A bit of positive attitude would help, you’d say. “I won’t argue with that, it certainly does help… into making the disappointment greater when you fail,” I think to add some angst to the situation but in reality that’s not what I believe. It’s rather scary to be too optimistic; it’s scary to be pessimistic… People always say “be positive but be prepared if something turns out badly.” View full article »
It was a calm evening, an evening filled with the melancholy of the fall season. Emily had gone to shop some art supplies after finishing her lessons at college and it had gotten rather late. Every day she would take the subway to go back and so did she that day as well. There was a lot of commotion underground but Emily was practically alone.
She finally arrived at the specific station where she had to be. The subway had yet to arrive. She stared at the panel: “10min” it read. Sure, it was a long time if you had nothing to do and were impatient to go home and relax. At times like this, Emily would usually stare at the people and try to guess what they were thinking or talking about, what the story behind their faces was. She first started doing this when she was young and used to wait for her mother to pick her up from the swimming pool. So, as she was observing the people who were passing by she noticed a mysterious looking girl with a black track suit and a sports hat that was also black. Her hair was long straight and black (too) and her jacket was opened and you guessed it… she was wearing a black shirt too. Emily couldn’t see her face though. “Her eyes can’t be black,” she though with a triumphant smile but in fact the girl wasn’t completely covered in black. Her track suit had a pair of white lines on the sides, like most tracksuits do anyway. Emily pictured the girl living alone in a small apartment and getting involved in dangerous situations which she was probably right about, at least to some point. View full article »