Daily Prompt: Unravel ( The rest of me 残りの私)

asylum2

My bones are brittle and I know they will break if I continue moving so carelessly. My heart is just as fragile; it will crack against my rib cage if I fall unwittingly. But what use are my bones and my heart when my mind has long been crushed along the walls of my skull; nothing but bloody pulp sloshing and splashing around. It’s funny how the world sees me as whole human being when, in reality, I am not even a quarter of the person I once thought I was.

I thought; but I never was and I never will be. I am just a mere anomaly, walking amongst the living when I should be with the dead.

My bones are brittle and my heart is just as fragile; yet I dance and love like they can withstand the strongest blows and highest falls. I want to hear the snap and crack of my bones as I pirouette. I want to see the bruising of my heart after I squeeze it betwixt my very own fingers. For there is peace in seeing my own person break down; if I am going to bleed, it will be at my own hands.

If I could, I would peel my skin off; slowly. Oh-so-torturously-slow. I would let my blood pool at my feet and let it stain. Then I would shred my raw muscles and leave them on the floor for the rodents to pick at. I would pull out my organs and throw them against the walls or out the windows for I no longer have any need of them.

I would leave my heart and my bones intact; with my mush of a brain, ebbing and flowing against the remainder of my sanity.

Just how brittle and fragile are my bones and my heart without the rest of me?

Unravel

Letter for Seok-jin (석진에게 보내는 편지)

Dearest Seok-jin,
I hope this letter finds you well.
There’s more to a group’s dynamics than harmonization and synchronization. Roles that require a member’s efforts to be in the shadows. Though this may be the case, it doesn’t make that member’s role any less important. Sometimes, these roles are key to a group’s success.

I always believe that for others to shine so brightly, someone has to dim down their own. When you’re the oldest, you either take the lead or take a step back. One thing remains the same though, you will always be that one central force that everyone will gravitate to. And remember, you will NEVER be the BLACK HOLE that sucks their lights out and leaves them lifeless.
You are the CORE that serves as their foundation and steadies their journey.
Own it.
Relish in it.
Soldier on.
Sincerely,
RageNiikura (11.30.2016)

Daily Prompt: Miniature (I am not 私はないです)

Doll

I have more than enough of you in my head. Too much for me to handle and too many for me to count.

I think it’s absurd that you have managed to, and that I let you, sink into every pore on my body that I could almost smell you. Your smiles haunt me and I don’t think I hear myself whenever I laugh. It scares me that I hear you but I don’t see myself complaining anytime soon. Your style has wormed its way into my day-to-day and I find myself liking trinkets that I would not buy before. I don’t think I will look like you though; you’re far too beautiful.

How much more of myself will I give to you willingly? Even if unwanted.

Is anything on me or about me mine at all–or is  my entirety made up from parts of you that I have stolen?

 

Miniature

 

*Photo: Pixabay

Daily Prompt: Carry (Miss Mumyeong 미스 무명)

Concert Seats

 

And he saw her, in the middle of a raucous crowd; quietly tinkering with her camera while those around her shouted his name and reached out to him like their next breath depended on it. She was seated close to the stage and he can see, almost feel, how calm she is. So unlike the people surrounding her that she stands out despite her tranquility.  She seemed unperturbed by all the activity and noise around her; quite fascinating. He looked up, smiled, and waved to the rest of the world as was expected of him. He walked a little further, stopping in front of another set of fans and taking notice of all the gifts and paraphernalia they have managed to throw onto the stage. He quickly browsed through the messages that his fans attached to the stuffed toys and paper airplanes that landed at his feet, seeing an amalgamation of ‘I-love-yous’ and wonderful wishes for his career. He smiled for he knew that these messages were sincere. And as he turned a little to his left, eyeing more of the little trinkets, he felt her silent presence.

She was still exactly as he left moments before–still fiddling with her camera and adjusting the lens. Still unconcerned of the goings-on and still in a world of her own.

Peculiar. Endearingly peculiar.

He looked away so he can wave and smile at the crowd some more. There were so many smiling faces in front of him, appearing and disappearing betwixt the flashes of cameras and the movement of the spot light as it followed him across the stage. He then noticed that he wasn’t really walking anymore. He was standing still and lingering in front of her and, for some reason, he wasn’t surprised at all.  He looked up and verbally acknowledged their shouts of love and support, thus earning him more. There’s so many of them and to each, he is forever grateful. He wants to reciprocate their kindness by grazing them with his smile, touching their outstretched hands with the tips of his fingers, or at the very least, looking at them even for a few milliseconds.

And so he smiled, touched, and looked.

Somehow, he managed to smile, touch, and look his way back to the slightly bent figure, who was adjusting the lens of her camera.

And this time, he just looked at her as his grip tightens around the microphone in his right hand.

It’s as if he can’t help but let his eyes gravitate towards her; again and again, until finally, he decides to just stare at her. He saw her angle the lens up and towards him, and thinking that she was going to take a picture, he lifted his left hand and gave her a peace sign. He remained in this pose for a few seconds before he puts down his hand. He squinted his eyes and noticed the surprise that graced her face when she saw what she captured in her camera.

And finally, he saw her look up to him.

He noticed how she bit her bottom lip unconsciously and how she shyly looked away from him again. He noticed how she tucked the stray hairs behind one ear. He noticed, even with the huge gap between them, that she was wearing black-rimmed glasses that compliments her eyes. He noticed her perfectly shaped eyebrows and how her hair was cut to a bob so that it frames her face wonderfully. And he noticed so many more things about her that he feels like reeling from all his observations.

She looks up to him again and this time, she hold his gaze unflinchingly, camera still in her hands. And for the first time–or maybe not for the first time–that night, he wondered how her soft her palms are and how it would feel to have her fingers close around his. Perhaps her camera could tell him. He stares back at her and it felt, for him atleast, that they were caught in a game. Whoever looks away first will lose.

He engraves every bit of her in his mind because that’s all he will ever have of her. He will never know her because life has never been fair.

She is anonymous and nameless, therefore she will be ‘anonymous’ and ‘nameless’.

She will be Mumyeong.

His Mumyeong.

And with one last lingering look, he bids his Mumyeong goodbye and turns away.

 

-FIN-

 

Carry

*Edited: August 17, 2016 , 3:28AM EST

*Photo: Pixabay

 

Daily Prompt: Vision

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People around me have always wondered my need for solitude. At some point during the length of time that they have known me, they got used to the idea of me going off on my own, finding a place where my thoughts will not be disturbed.

I am a person that needs time alone, even if it’s just to think about the most mundane of things like what book I’m going to read next, what country I’m going to visit this year, or which restaurant I’m going to have lunch at. In between thoughts of reading, traveling, and eating, my mind recedes into a world of my creation. Where high elves, aliens, vampires, and other magical beings are not just mere imagination. For one thing, I am already in the deepest recesses of my mind and for another, I often feel like this is the world that I should be living in–my reality as opposed to the one wherein my physical body lies.

I always find myself in a coffee shop with a table all to myself, nursing a cup of coffee or a bottle of juice. I automatically put on my earphones and play music to block out the noise. The moment that I tune in is also the moment that I tune out. On the outside, I look as close to normal as the next person; sipping my drink, checking my mobile phone, and smoking a cigarette. In truth, I am nowhere near that table nor am I anywhere on this planet. I could feel my muscles reacting to whatever’s happening in my mind. My thighs contracting as I see myself run through a dark forest, away from some ominous creature that’s sending chills down my spine. I could feel my skin pimpling with electricity if the tempo of the song I am listening to matches the right moment that I jump off a high cliff, only to unfurl my wings and soar towards the bluest of skies. I could feel my heart beating faster as I dance and laugh with Marie Antoinette’s courtiers, and as I steal glances at the handsome gentleman who chose to drink his wine on the side of the dance floor.

People around me may have always wondered my need for a Psychiatrist.

From my perspective, it is the lost souls that do not dare venture out of the physicality of their lives that need one, not I.

 

Vision

*Photo: Pixabay

Daily Prompt: Survival

crown-1296670_640

 

“The King has ordered us to Scotland! Tell him to ride with nary but the clothes on his back for we must away ere he finds himself the first amongst the four of us to be held in a donjon*,” shouted his lord, Sir Reginald Fitzurse, whose wine glass has long shattered against a barren stone wall. The knight turned towards his squire and said, “Pack what you need and hastily. I need de Morville informed immediately–de Tracy and le Breton should be with him. The journey should take three days in good weather. Two if you can help it. Now, go! Away with you!”

It has been over a day and a half since he last saw the face of his master, which was twisted in anger and urgency as he gave him his orders. The young squire was to journey to Knaresborough so he can deliver the message himself to Sir Hugh de Morville, Lord of Westmorland and Knaresborough. His lord, Sir de Morville, and two other knights were charged with the murder of Archbishop Bennet. And rightfully so, thought Zuan. None of the four knights made secret of their wrong doing for they claimed to have done it in the name of Henry II.

Five and ten years of age and having been bequeathed the role of a squire a year earlier, Zuan never imagined he would immediately be tasked with a mission such as this. Having fallen under the tutelage of Sir Fitzurse, he had no choice but to follow out of loyalty or be shamed for spitting on the oath he has taken. Either his master and his three brothers-in-arms were misled by the King or their sense and reason simply fled them in an attempt to rid their monarch of a supposed troublesome clergy man; none can say for sure. All Zuan knows is that he must reach Sir de Morville the soonest he can. He’s been riding his horse to the point of exhaustion for the last couple of days but he had no choice. His master gave him direct orders to ride hard and fast, and so he raced the sun and the moon, sparsely stopping and only then to rest his steed.

The sun has long since sunk on the second day of his journey but he dare not stop again. He will push on to Knaresborough and urge the de Morville to come with him. If luck would have it, he would also find Sir William de Tracy and Sir Richard le Breton with the said lord, and be on their way with no further delays. He will persevere and serve his lord knight true.

Zuan leaned further down to the point wherein he can feel the destrier’s mane whipping against his face. When he accepted his lord’s orders, he felt his sense of chivalry shrivel for he is helping in the escape of murderers. But what is chivalry without loyalty and loyalty without brotherhood? Perhaps he was too tired to decipher where one ends and the other begins, or wherefore these two values are set aside for a much higher cause, whether true or imagined.

If he survives long enough to journey with four wanted men and scale the mountains of Scotland while praying that the druids do not take offence for their trespass; maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to think about the worthiness of his choices.

 

Survival

 

*dungeon

*I decided to write a short piece of fiction for today’s “Daily Prompt”. I have been reading a lot of historical romance novels recently and I have taken a liking to the way they are written. Admittedly, I have researched a fair bit before writing this very short story for if go by with what I know, I might end up writing a fan fiction of the books I have read. Forgive any inconsistencies for this is the first time I have written a story of this sort. I am, by no means, an expert in history nor am I a blessed with the wit of published authors. It’s a start though.

*Critiques are welcomed.

*Photo: Pixabay