In the dungeonous belly of a decrepit castle, Kali watches patiently as the fissure along the wall slowly gets concealed by the never-ending winter snowfall. Each day as the snow climbs higher, the malicious grin across her face stretches wider. Her original plan was to simply wait for the army to pass, for she wasn't ready to wake, but as they made camp on the ground above her domain, Kali's attitudes shifted and progressed toward hostilities.
When the last required snowflake fell into place atop the fissure, and shrouded her in darkness, Kali began to ascend the spiral stone staircase. A long silken cloak gently hugged her shoulders, trailing behind. Her maniacal laughter started out as a whisper, then grew in strength and voice, echoing off the stone walls and escaping as a warning. A wave of panic washes over the ignorant army, sending the soldiers into a frenzy, as they scramble to arm themselves. Her laughter grabs ahold of their spines and rattles their entire bodies until only terror remains.
Reaching the top, she flings the half broken door open with a bang. Her twisted grin stretches from ear to ear as laughter rumbles out of her chest. Her cloak wraps itself around her, transforming into tight armour, and curved blades protrude from her fingertips. She rips through the camp in a flash, cackling as she goes. Then, as she wanders into the forest, allowing the heavy snowfall to unknowingly blanket her sins, she screeches:
"Kali sleeps no more!"
About the Creator
Mollie Narutovics
Blending philosophy with experience, culture with nature, and theories with poetry.
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The Mantra
In the early morning of February 11th, a whisper is barely audible above the dull sound of a fog horn. A monk sits, quietly tracing spirals with his finger in the piles of ground glass in front of him. The mantra he chants would leave anyone else tongue-tied, but he recites it with such melody that it sounds like a song. In his other hand, he holds an obelisk, that begins to glow after the tenth recitation of the mantra.
By Mollie Narutovics2 years ago in Fiction
Do You Remember?
”Do you remember?” “Remember, what?” “Do you remember how we met?” “Of course I remember when we met.” “But do you remember HOW we met?” “How? How. Well, yes.. what exactly are you goin’ on about, Vera?” “It’s been decades since I’ve thought about it” “Go on.” “Well, don’t you remember, Oscar? We were two very lost souls. So lost in the rubble we couldn’t find our own feet. “Ah, yes.” “Our hearts were shredded into the finest confetti, it’s a miracle they could even hold a beat!” “Mm, It’s coming back to me.” “Meddling on lonesome blues and cheap whiskey.” “Merely kids, we were.” “Down by that old river, some nights so misty!” “Oh, yes. That sure was a mighty beautiful river.” “and the bands would play until sunrise for all our lonesome souls to vanquish into spiritless nothingness.” “They knew we needed sleep at some point, just to wake up the next evening to do it all over again.” “A small light in the darkness.” “Hm, I am still not understanding why this faint memory has arised in you, Vera, are you okay?” “Do you remember when you looked at me? From across the dock?” “Well, yes. I saw a sad girl sitting on shore, digging her toes in the sand, curly dark locks drifting with the wind.” “Yes, and I looked up at that exact moment.” “A picturesque moment, a sight to be seen.” “That was the first time I smiled in months.” “Truly?” “Truly.” “Hm. Why is that?” “Well, I saw a handsome young man staring right back at me, with a hungered look in his eyes, a look I couldn’t quite read.” “and that made you smile?” “No one had ever looked at me like that in all my young years, if they ever even looked at me..” “You were… dauntingly beautiful, Vera. I couldn’t look away.” “I was not!” “You were! I saw a lost soul, like mine, toes so deep in the sand you couldn’t see them. An aching heart so shredded it was like fire works going off around you.” “and that made me beautiful?” “It made you real. It meant you could feel, deeply. And when you can feel, deeply - well, that’s the purest of beauty.” “and you saw all that just by looking at me?” “I felt you in my soul, and it made me feel.. not so lost anymore.” “Oh… Oscar.” “What is this all about, Vera?” “Well, to be honest, I was beginning to feel a little bit lost again.” “Oh, Vera..” “When you looked at me from that rickety ol’ dock, something in my soul ignited.” “You felt it too?” “Very much so.” “Hm, you never made a mention of that.” “Well, growing up crushed by the weight of endless trauma, you learn to hide such feelings.” “Fair.” “I just… I just needed that reminder, of what ignited my soul in the first place.” “You mean.. by giving you this look?” “Yes! Oh.. Yes, that look!” “You will always be the girl of my wildest imagination, Vera. Without you, there would only be darkness.”
By Kendra J. Anthony6 days ago in Fiction
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
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