Raindrops of Thinking

  - by Blue                         There was a spell laid upon the hearth of the family home. It struck the children of the house with an unfortunate fate. Gloom and doom became the norm for these kids, a silent prey that brought them the slightest discomfort in an almost satisfying life. But they could live with it. They considered everything normal. The curse was nothing more than an inconvenience. It was a little bug in the matrix that didn't need fixing. Just something you get used to after a while.                          The story went on until those children had children of their own, and their children after them. The family grew like the scriptures intended, the spell then forgotten after so many centuries and lifetimes passed. Along with the tale of the spell buried in the sands of time was the solution to the misfortunes that ...

  - by blue She never lingered as long as a minute when passing by the mirror situated in the hallway connecting the front door to the living room. Her feet didn't stop their flighty steps when she came by it, refusing to take a single glance at its reflective surface. It helped that the mirror was placed at the top of an antique shelf, with carved out roses and a shiny varnish. That meant all she had to do was remain below. But oh, the temptation! It was time for her early morning walks again. To do that, she had to cross the very same hallway that had the mirror to get to the door and out into the yard. She'd have to leave the cozy safety her velvet sofa provided. But the morning walk was an essential daily routine. The neighbors would have to answer to her as usual, and she couldn't do that while lying inside the house. It would be cowardly of her to yell at them from the glass windows that would probably mute her voice in the end. The risks shouldn't stop her. That ...

  — by Blue I met a machine once. It had an iron plated body and its brain was connected with wires. Its body was starting to rust, the power inside barely flickering the light in its eyes.  I asked this machine, "What is your name?"  "I don't remember. I had a name once, but I chose to forget," it said.  I asked, "Why?"  "Young one, I chose to forget that as well. Everything, perhaps, started with the fact that I have thrown away my past to create this synthetic body in place of a once rotting flesh that could die at any moment in time."  The machine told me a story then, a hypothesis that was formed from years of missing memories. A highly likely story that explains the origins of the wires that made its robotic brain going and the empty ribcage that housed not a heart but a pulsing something that pumps electricity—steady and static, not erratic.  Once, perhaps, there was a human with a soul. It wanted a lot of things. It wished a lot of wi...

  -- by Blue [ trigger warning: mentions of self harm ] People have heard rumors. They say a flock of monsters had snuck into town and disguised themselves, blending in with the folk to conceal their true nature. They say these beings don't have true faces. They are like dolls with no paint on their faces, no stitches to show where the mouth and the eyes were. They are mere empty bobble heads, with probably empty brains as well. They say these monsters are stupid, but what they lack in sense they fill in with their confidence.  "That's how they're so fearless to even fool the King's daughter from the East," the young lady tending for the bar of the tavern whispered in a rather conspicuous way so that all the men and women could hear, ale held back in their throats. Hearsays and tales probably laced with lies were not new in a place such as this tavern. Every gathering posed chances of spreading stories. The truthfulness behind them didn't matter. What peop...

  — by Blue I would always see her portrait hanging just above the corner of the staircase that connected the upper and lower parts of the house. That staircase acted like a gateway or the divide between heaven and hell, and her face the gatekeeper with the eyes that could see anyone—everyone. She was always there, and I always aware.  I could not remember when the first time that portrait of hers were hanged inside the house. Perhaps it has always been there, long before I was born. I'm not sure. All I know is that one day, it was there and I could see her.  Her name was something I should've remembered but I couldn't bring myself to. It brought me nightmares in bed that my mind chose to bury it away out of my reach.  Her hair is raven black, her skin pale as sickly white. She was lean and she had a cat resting on her bony left arm. The scaly fingers of her right hand caressed the fur of the mischievous creature. Her eyes, they were the emptiest orbs I have ever see...

   — by Blue  [ trigger warning: talks about suicide, manipulation]   An adventure, it is not for everyone. Others seek it. Some would rather it not be there. It is purely a waste of time. No matter how fairy tales gloss their stories over, a journey requires a lot of things and it poses a lot of danger. All she could see was nothing but death.  But once upon a time, when the woman was but a little girl, she longed for an adventure within her pages. When all was blank and the fates were still uncertain, she had dared to wish for a driven tale to fill the paper of her past with sparkling words that would make other kids envy her. With just the right journey and a catching title page, she was sure the lot of them would want to read what she would have to offer. They would put her book on their shelves, with her name written in bold letters on the cover.  It was then that she coincidentally met a friend.  "How did that even happen?" she would ask herself ...

  -- by Blue               Where right is left and left is right, which should one choose?                I knew of a saying in the human world. It asked my questions only a little differently. "Where should one go? To the right where nothing is left? Or to the left where nothing is right?" Quite a witty thing to ask I would say,                But my problems were far more direct. It had a lot more to do with what was on the other side than what I already had in my past. That other world, it's tempting.               "Why don't you step out? Why don't you run away with me? I'll show you more beautiful things and places than these. These are just common stuff. I bet you'd flip if you saw the rest of the world! I haven't been to some of them, but we could go together!" that child said.       ...

  -- by Blue Most fairytales start with a once upon a time. Most of them end with a happily ever after. To put things bluntly, something starts in the middle of what might be history, in a definite time and place, and it would end as stories do.  But in a place that no one else has ever seen, a place so dark you might end up stumbling and hurting your knees out of practically nothing, time doesn't work as it usually does. The setting itself is quite strange enough that you might think you are here but you're there over yonder. Nothing is what it seems.  We are not talking about Wonderland here. Alice might get mad if we steal the liberty and share space with her magical world filled with mad creatures. Besides, no one is mad in this place of ours. No one is, but perhaps someone will be. So, instead of a once upon a time, let us start this tale with an "every once in a while".                Every once in a while in an unknown b...

  -- by Blue . .. ... dots for the silence that i longed for yet i can't seem to enjoy. * there was a time when peace was the longest dream of an insomniac of the land. a hiding monster of the night of legends, a criminal to the balance of the kingdom of the creatures of the day. it longed to fit in within the rules and regulations of an outstanding and well-known civilization. to be recognized as a member of the royal court may be much of a high horse of a dream, but just being one of the throngs working through the toils of the town square seems to be enough of a privilege. anything is better than hiding in the shadows—alone.  .... dots yet again  for the quiet  that i wished for back then. a curse it seemed to have befallen such a creature. a witch of the darkness may have been the cause. myths have been crafted to depict such a lonely tale that soon turned into a horror story meant to scare kids into bed. what had fate intended to bring such a pitiful ending? it ...

--- by Blue  She thought she heard the neighbor's dog claw through her usually locked front door one morning. It was not that unusual if all things considered. She usually wakes up to the noise. Already she has dubbed it as her own personal alarm clock. That wasn't out of the ordinary.  What was not normal however was that she has no more supplies left on the fridge to make herself some breakfast. There was some butter in there, about a quarter out of a whole. There was water as well. A whole lot of them. ' That wouldn't be enough tho ,' she told herself. She tried living off of just tap water for a whole day once. It didn't end well.  She got up, more against her will, and scurried off to buy groceries. A basket in hand and her purse fitting tightly inside the pockets of her trusty skirt, she was off to fend away the dog at her door and quickly set off to market right after.  She was sure to leave her doors and windows locked before she truly left, however. She...