At World’s End: Prologue

In a time of complete turmoil, when the Earth is in distress, the thought of living became menacing. 

Many died. Whether it be in poverty, in riots or by the hands of their fellow man, there was never a time to mourn. 

Those people left behind — the “lucky” few — roamed the land, looking for a way to survive. Living off scraps, alone in their sadness. To be left alive was considered luck but to live was not lucky. 

They had seen their families die before their very eyes. Watched the devolution of humankind and eventually the death of humanity. There was no solace. Surviving for the sake of simply not dying, with no hope was cruel. But some could not justify the alternative — choosing to die on their own terms when the darkness became too much. 

The battle of the land had long finished but the war never ended. In this desolate place, life is often forgotten and death is far kinder.

However, human nature dictates that a fighting instinct remains until the very end. Even in a lifeless expanse of sand as far as the eye can see with the blistering heat beating down, there was finally a sign of life. The sound of laughter from a young woman as she ran across the land with a slightly older man trailing behind. Two mismatched people seeking survival.

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Queen of Hearts

The village where I spent my boyhood years had an unwritten mantra amongst the children, it existed before my family moved there generations before and will continue long after I am dead. Be careful what you wish for. It was a law, a saying and a threat. It goes in accordance with another lore, which states that if a person pure of heart believes anything strong enough, it will come true. Almost like a wish.  I never thought much of it before, but it became the forefront of my thoughts after a winter that changed my life. The night exceeds all scientific possibility and the village of Efrose still contains inexplicable mysteries which turn into stories. 

In my youth, I was particularly fond of magic. It inspired an odd sense of hope and no one can deny that it holds a childlike wonder. The one trick that enamoured me was the disappearing act. I never saw a trapdoor or other cheap tricks; it was simple, a person was there and the next second by some divine miracle, they no longer were: magic.

My best friend at the time — probably the best friend I ever had, a better friend than any I’ve made well into my adult years — was a girl named Reina. That wasn’t her real name, there was another story. This story like all others entwine into each other, so I must bore you with some details.

Her real name was Olivia but she hated being called that, in addition to Liv, Ollie or any other rendition you can muster . One day by pure instinct, I called her Reina. She looked at me confused, like I was stupid. I got flustered quickly and felt a strong urge to explain myself. “My mum reads me a story about a strong princess who ran away with a knight. Her name is Reina — it means queen. So even if she wasn’t the queen of that kingdom, she was still a queen by name. That’s what my mum said at least. It just reminds me of you. Sorry.” I look down at my shoes when I noted that she looked sad due to the tears forming in her eyes, however, upon reflection it was quite the opposite.

She put her hands on my face, looking at me with those glassy eyes, and said, “you truly are an Angel.” Now would be a good time to mention that my eccentric parents named me Angel. She kissed my forehead and we proceeded to play like we always did.  Shortly after that event the name stuck and everyone called her Reina.

We were inseparable. While the other kids in our class would tease me for expressing high praise for the magical arts, she would encourage it and remind me why I loved it. She made sure no one laughed at me.

At that age, I never understood why she would not want to return home, or why she had bruises on her body. I never understood why sometimes she would flinch when anyone came close to her. At that age, all I thought was that her life was awesome because she never had a curfew and would spend all day trying to play. She would spend days on end at my house or hide in the park. I understand it now. But it’s too late.

She was my partner in crime and on occasion my lovely assistant. The most notable case, brings us to the winter of 2000. We were 11, preparing for the school’s talent show. I remember the nerves, and how I would joke that Reina had a spidey sense for it. She had a knack of soothing me and on that night Reina simply said, “I believe in you.” 

With that my nerves dissipated. “Believe in me but the magic is a trick, which we have practised to perfection.” 

“Remember, if you believe strong enough anything can come true. Like Peter Pan and fairies. Believe in the magic.”

Backstage was a flurry of parents fussing over their children. Reina’s parents were not there so she gave her seats to my family. While the other kid’s parents primped them, she was alone. The teachers and parents often gave her sympathetic looks coupled with inaudible muttering. She smiled at me as though she couldn’t see them. “I really wish I could disappear sometimes,” she muttered to herself.

When the show commenced, it was a mashup of offkey singers and out of time dancers. We were the last kids to go on, not for our talent but because we were the only act that was different. It went as practised, we did our card tricks without a hitch, pulled a coin out from behind unsuspecting audience members ears, turned water into ice immediately and made a ring defy gravity by going up a string. Finally, time for the big finish: make my lovely assistant disappear.

We had it planned: there was a small space underneath the stage where Reina could hide, mimicking a trapdoor. We placed the box on top with a false bottom. She walked in the box with a large smile, her face shone brighter every time the audience would clap. She whispered to me just as I closed the door, “this is the happiest day of my life. Thank you for being my best friend.”

Upon hearing those words, I said to the audience, “I love Reina. She is my best friend.” The door was closed but I was sure she could hear me. The big reveal to the audience which showed she had disappeared resulted in a massive round of applause. I just imagined how happy she would be to hear it. The finale should have shown Reina reappear. Should have. “Now ladies and gentlemen. I need some help to get Reina back. Reina. Reina.” I made motions to encourage them to chant. Now everyone was chanting Reina’s name, including the kids that would ridicule us and even the teachers who knew of the trick. I opened the door to reveal Reina. But she wasn’t there. I closed it and tried again. 

Panic struck me, maybe she was stuck, I thought. I dropped to the floor and removed the false bottom. The space was empty. There was no sign of Reina in the school or town of Efrose. Everyone searched for her but to no avail. Her parents never pushed to find her and moved out of the village not long after she went missing. The people soon forgot about her after that. Reina was a whisper in the wind and the village would never see her again. She had truly disappeared.

Alone.

Alone.
All alone
I’m all alone.
All alone
Alone.

The room, the dingy, small room stretched out before me. There was no way out. There was nothing to do.

So I did what any rational person would do.
I curled up into a ball and cried.
I cried for I don’t know how long.
I cried until there was nothing left.

When I stopped, when I was physically unable to cry any more. I got up. I could feel my hair static, tears dried on my face. I looked horrible.
Yet I still put my self in front of the mirror. My eyes wide, with several dark rings like someone had punched me- I wish it were that simple. My hollowed out face, too skinny to be alive. But why am I still walking? Even though every single step hurts, it hurts even more than the last.

I will show you how beautiful you are. A memory

I turned away from the mirror. I couldn’t handle it. From my sickly grey skin to my empty sad eyes. I was staring at a stranger.
But the person I once was is a distant memory.
So where did that leave me? Who was I?

You are beautiful.
Before.

I would I have walked away but before I could the walls were closing in around me. They were coming closer, and I was helpless. All I could do was stand there and wait for the pain to stop.

I woke up to what felt like weeks later. Still feeling groggy and looked around hoping it was all a dream. No it was all the bitter reality.
Something was different I wasn’t alone. There was someone with me.
In the shadows they were simply a figure, only when they stood up out of the shadows did I realise who it was.

She hadn’t changed. Her hair, her face, her height. All except her expression, cold and hard.
I was glad when she had not changed now there may be hope and I haven’t missed out on anything.

“Hello”.

Her face remained stern.
And we remained silent for a long while.
She didn’t move, or talk and it seemed like she didn’t even breath.
“How are you?”
This question annoyed her. For a brief second her face softened, to something familiar, something human.

“How do you think I am? You left me. Is that the answer you want. What kind of mum does that to her child?”

“I’m sorry”. Was all I said, what else could I say?

“For all those years you missed, of missed performances, assemblies, exams. You’re sorry”.

The tension could be cut with a knife and I did the worst thing, I stayed silent.

“No”, she laughed cynically. “You’re not sorry, that’s beyond your capability. You have no human emotion, your not honest or sincere,or happy or even sad.”

I stayed quiet because I knew it was true. I looked back to a time when I showed one emotion toward her. But I couldn’t find one
So she went on.

“You always wanted me out of the house, was I such a terrible person that my mother couldn’t even stand to be around me.
I wasn’t good enough so you signed me up for everything extracurricular possible.
Even after all that, you left me.
The saddest part was you were all I had.
You wouldn’t even let me have friends around, you wanted me to be as lonely as you.
Well congratulations you got your wish. I’m 27 and still am single. I’m just as inhuman as you.”

Then I saw her, I really saw her. A lady, beautiful even with her hair in her face, in frumpy clothes.
Then I remembered how shy she was.

I will show you how beautiful you are.

Then my world crumbled down.
The walls collapsed.

Then my thoughts came out.
“The reason I made you leave the house was so you would explore the world. You could see there was more beyond the world than this dirty small house.
You were good enough, but do you ever wonder if you would be this smart or athletic if I didn’t sign you up for endless classes. I bet you have a well paid job as a doctor now. I bet a million guys chase you but your too shy to realise. If not for your looks but your personality, not even I could break you out of your spirit.
You’re friends weren’t good for you, they never were.”

The worst thing was she didn’t shout back, or fight me. She hugged me, she forgave me for missing out on over twenty years of her life.

She hugged me while I sobbed.

But even with tears streaming down my face I could see from the corner of my eyes, my daughter calling the institute.

My own flesh and blood sending me back to that place.

I’m not crazy.
I’m just alone.

Dystopian

The world we once lived in has passed by us. There was no time to appreciate or treasure it. We lived and killed it and now it’s gone.

For today is a new day in a new world. With the same people. This is not a bittersweet truth, this is a monstrous truth.

The truth of the matter is that the people in this world will feast on you until there is only remnants of what you once were, a hollow being with the same face.

People change and become more and more spiteful, the land becomes more sterile.

Yes, it’s a new scary world. We will live in it and destroy it again- it’s just in our nature. We lose our world, our love, our morals and our hope.

Okay, I think this is the outcome of reading too many dystopian novels. Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think in the comments.

Betty

I don’t know how many people are familiar with the show Ugly Betty (and if you aren’t then shame on you).
I absolutely loved it, I mean Betty was fucking hilarious, the idea was bloody brilliant. A heroine with thick rimmed glasses and braces- now that’s a plot.
An “ugly” (note the air quotes) girl who went to work for a fashionable magazine. She didn’t fit in (I’m pretty sure everyone knows how that feels). Shows like that aren’t really on, usually tv shows are about pretty people complaining about their lives. With Ugly Betty, I don’t know, I just feel like I could relate. Besides the poncho *face-palm*

I know it may sound stupid to have an emotional attachment to a fictional character but I don’t care.
My all time favourite quote from her-
“No I’m the jerk for thinking that clothes and a new hairdo would make a difference on someone like me.”
To me, I never really saw Betty as ugly, beauty IS in the eye of the beholder and to me she was beautiful. Honestly, she was an inspiration. I think more girls should try to be like Betty because she was a strong, independent woman, who was successful. Yet people still try and be like the models in there.

I’m not going to lie even the superficial characters had there moments. Honestly have you ever heard truer words-
“A word of advice, be who you are, wear what you want, just learn how to run real fast.”
~ Marc St

I even think Betty introduced the idea of blogging to me.
She was a real person; she had bad hair days (a lot of them), she snorted when she laughed, she embarrassed herself (once again, a lot!)
But she also stood up for what she believed in, she had experiences and had morals.
Which is why I refuse to call her ugly.

Thanks for reading
^___^
(=^.^=) (hey look a cat, since that has your attention—> leave a comment about your favourite heroines from books or tv shows)

Damaged

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I loved him, loved him more than I could’ve imagined.
This was the very reason why I had to let him go. I loved him too much to allow him to get dragged down with a person like me. I prevented him from the perfect life- he had a perfect home, perfect friends, a perfect life if it weren’t for his girlfriend.

It’s possible that he would be upset for a short time but it is for the best- just keep telling yourself that, it might make this remotely bearable.

I didn’t realise I was crying until I saw the tears drop down on the note I was writing.
Not so much a note as a line.
We accept the love we think we deserve.

I had to tell him- in person, there was no point in putting it off any longer.
Every time I took a turn, I pass a place with a reminder of him. The corner where he first asked me out, I looked into his eyes and saw a story. Outside the shop where we had our first kiss, he brushed my hair out of my face and kissed me- my first real kiss.
The park bench. The place where he said he loved me, and hugged me. That’s where we stood a while and we didn’t need words.

Now this was it. I just had to remind myself that I wasn’t good enough for him.

I sat on the park bench as he approached me. “What’s wrong?” he asked with general concern. Fuck. He knew me too well. I looked away from the ground up into his sad eyes. I wasn’t gonna cry again. “I love you, you have to know that.” He smiled weakly and choked out, “I know and I love you.”
I don’t think it’s gonna work out
It’s not you it’s me
Every break up line I could think of but there wasn’t one that was right- only one thing to do, be honest.
“You have a perfect life with a perfect home and perfect friends. I know you love me but I don’t think I deserve you. I mean I’m damaged goods, right? That’s what your friends call people like me. It’s better I don’t drag you down with me.” It all came out like one hot mess. I wanted to fight for him, with him. Instead I chose the cowards way out- just as I was about to run, he grabbed my arm. I pull me close, he pulled my waist close to him and he looked at me with such despair. I have seen this very look before, it was the same one he had when he asked me out, it was sadness. A look someone his age shouldn’t have mastered. But there it was and it’s too bad I wouldn’t be there to know the reason behind it. I knew him and I knew he wouldn’t let me go without a fight.

“Look, before you go, you have to know something. Here come round mine, I have to show you something.”
I thought about it, he never did invite me around before. I just couldn’t. It would make it even harder- for both of us.

That was two weeks ago. Now I stand in the place I said I wouldn’t.
I stood in his room.
It was nothing like I thought it was. I imagined a boys room- posters, clothes everywhere, desk covered with papers. In reality, it was nothing like that. The moment I walked in I could feel the coldness, I felt it to my very soul.
It reminded me of a prison cell rather than anything else. Dark walls, inhumanly neat- the few things in their had a place. Just the bare essentials.
His bed, that’s what he had wanted me to see. Not to sleep with me, no, it was more than that. It was sinister- it was the truth I never got to know. Over his bed there were engravings on the wall in fact, I was more like chicken scratches.
Every word showed how wrong I was about him. He was far from having the perfect life.

Divorce.
As it turns out his parents fought constantly, divorce would have been better rather than him seeing his mum -I quote- “getting treated like shit and beaten”.

Friends. Alone.
His friends, well, I knew they were dicks but not towards him. He has never felt so alone until he met-

Her.
And I turned out to be the worst one. He had his own problems and not once did I ask. I’d assumed his life was perfect but it was far from it.
One of the worst things is that he believed he didn’t deserve me.

Now every reminder, tainted with the dark truth. The look in his eyes where he asked me out- that was more than a story, that foreshadowed a tragedy.
Our first kiss he brushed me hair away, I could remember the pale bruises on his arms. The thought of not knowing how they got there would be the worst thing of all. The thoughts going through my head that was enough to make a person break down. It was enough to make me break down. The strangest thing was I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream, I didn’t even move.
I stood there like a statue, a statue cracking and falling apart. I swear that in that moment I felt something inside of break.
One thought continually preoccupied my mind, it’s the time where we just stood there in an embrace, where for once in my life words weren’t need and completely useless. I ignored those silent sobs, I heard in my ear.

The last words were what would haunt me forever.
The cruel bitter irony cut through me like a knife.
I wished someone ripped my heart out right then.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Her.

She walked past me. She tried not to but she looked up at me and smiled. A small smile but nevertheless it was a smile.
Her dark, almost black, hair- not messy just not perfect. Her big brown eyes looking away and distant. Her light skin, yeah, she definitely wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t pretty, I wouldn’t say she was ugly but some people called her that anyway.

I would probably like her back if she weren’t such a loser. Despite this I couldn’t help but wonder. We used to be friends, close friends and at one point I couldn’t imagine not being friends with her.
What happened? Well, I thought that obvious- we grew up, we grew apart. There was one thing I was sure, she loved me. Actually, she had a crush on me and I’m pretty sure she still does. I won’t ever get with her but it’s nice to be admired.

I don’t even talk to her. I still talk to her brother from now and then. She’s just an old distant friend, and if you ever ask me I’ll deny this but there was a small chance I liked her.

Now here she stood. Infront of me, just me and her. Nothing to lose, so much to say. But she was a loser.
I don’t know why I called out her name but I did. No one saw us when I asked her in my house. We stood in silence for a while, she was waiting for an explanation to why I shouted out her name.
“Remember how close we used to be?” Thank goodness she spoke first.
“Mm hm,” was all I could reply.
“Fine, don’t talk to me but I’m leaving. Next time you call me I’m ignoring you”. Just as she turned around I said, “yes, I remember we were really close, all of us.”
“I kind of miss it”, she admitted.
I couldn’t lie, not now, not to her. “I actually miss it too.”
“I wanna ask what happened but I think that we both know. It was a long time ago. We can’t live in the past, right.”
“I used to wonder what happened. Like right now we don’t know each other at all now. Not even say hi, I don’t even know what you’re studying,” I said, sincerely.
“Yep. That’s what it’s like now. I’ve kind of got to admit this.” She took a breathe. “I had a crush on you when we were younger. You were my first crush.” That was 8 years ago.
I came closer to her, so close. I could almost kiss her, I wanted to kiss her. I swear this, she also leaned in. At the last second she chuckled and pulled away. “But not now, not even a little bit. You want to know what happened we could have always been friends. You just had to say hi, one day. Everytime I saw you I said hi and asked how you were. Did you ever try to make the smallest effort. Now you walk past me you don’t even acknowledge me, let alone smile. So don’t think that all of a sudden it’s okay and then try to kiss me.”
All I could say was, “l didn’t want to kiss you.”- Pathetic.
“Okay, whatever. But if you don’t want to talk to me, don’t try. We aren’t friends and will never be again, I don’t even think we were good friends to begin with. But just forget it and just never say anything to me again. You can blame me, blame us but I didn’t change up until I had to. I know every time you see me in the corridor you think ‘damn I used to be friends with that ugly loser’. Well, fuck you I am a loser and I don’t give a fuck what you think. You changed to be a dick. You’re a dick, not the guy who I used to like.”
She walked out and slammed the door. I was not expecting that.
She was so aggravating. The nerve of her, okay I called her here but she didn’t have to come. I didn’t change, did I? Shit I knew i changed. Did she try to talk to me, yes, she did all the time with her niceties, she even spoke to my family. She was bloody right, I knew I was a dick just not as much as she said. Shit, she was right. She wasn’t just some “ugly loser”, it was her. My friend. And one other thing I realised:

Fuck, I think I love her.

Books To Love. Forever.

I wanna read a book. I book without vampires. Or werewolves. Or any supernatural reading. I want to read a book that is pure tragic. Tragic because it makes you cry, it makes laugh and it makes you wish that it never ends. A book that ends in tears. A book with a hard, cruel touch of humanity. Because that’s what life is really like. Those are the stories we should read and cherish. Books that are real and sometimes even wish that they aren’t. Books that you can never change but that can change you.

Comment your favourite book below ^_^

Shattered

The girl loved and loved and loved. Only to get crushed. Over and over again. Just because the girl loved, didn’t mean people returned it. The worst thing is when someone you love betrays that love. The girl experienced this more times anyone should in a lifetime. Through all this love, she lost something far more important- her own happiness

So, she stopped. Just like that, she stopped. She had fallen and been broken. Now she was shattered. She couldn’t allow herself to trust, she built walls. Unbreakable walls. She wasn’t happy, she wanted to love she felt nothing and only made her more sad.
The funny thing is is when you stop caring for so long then you don’t have to try, you just can’t. It was harder to care than not to care.

These walls were projections of what went wrong, what she was scared of. These unbreakable walls could be torn by only one person, the very same person who created them.

She loved a boy. This boy was like any other. He loved himself a little bit too much, lived frivolously and thought too much of what others thought. They were young and in love. They shared the experiences young love tend to. He gave her her first kiss and she gave him a reason. They were happy but the boy thought of others before himself.
“She’s nothing special. I don’t know, because she’s not that pretty I thought she would have a bit more substance than the other girls but she proved me wrong. We had a good run.” These were the exact words she heard him say about her. She overheard the boy talking and she knew it was punishment for loving too easily and falling too hard. I don’t question the boys love for her because it could be a facade but he still said it and he lost her.
The worst thing was the girl felt nothing. She wasn’t sad because she didn’t break these walls. Her world was bigger than this but she didn’t allow herself to experience it, or anything. These walls well they were what frightened her even more.

And who is this narrator telling this story? That’s a story in itself.

We met on the train. She was sitting in the corner, looking out the window. In a world of her own, so distant from me or anyone else for that matter.

This amazed me. I asked her “where are you going”. She looked at me, and calmly said, “anywhere”. This just made me smile. “What if I gave you reason to go somewhere?”
“Well it’s got to be a pretty good reason.” She looked down and smiled, she smiled a hurt smile.

I gave her my number, so it was up to her, a decision which would ultimately affected her whole life.

She did call and we spoke long enough to arrange a date.
I remember many dates, the red dress, the skinny jeans and top, the makeup, the hats, the gloves but not scarves, she hated scarves. I remember snow. I remember the seasons changing. I remember the laughs, the tears. I remember the good times and bad times. I remember her slowly breaking the walls down.
We loved, we fell but we didn’t break.

I gave her the best gift that winter. I gave her her happy ending because January 4th that year we stood at the alter.

You see nothing beats your first love. Except one thing and that’s growing old with your true love.

Hope you enjoyed this. Comment below and tell me what you think 😛

For Christmas..

I want my uncles ability to laugh it off.
I want my aunts strength.
I want my grandmas bravery.
I want my brothers determination.
I want my dads fearlessness.
I want my mums willpower.

For Christmas or any day I would choose to have these instead of fancy presents. Presents will come and go but qualities like these would never fade.
I could have added so many more people. Everyone of them amazing in their own right. I think these are the kind of people teenagers and kids should look up to.
These people are truly great and I love them so much. I know a lot of people say this but I truly believe I have the greatest family ever.

I don’t know why I feel in such a tacky mood. It’s probably because school holidays are here (and that make me happy).

What do you want for Christmas this year?

Thanks for reading.