Chapter 1 : She

At times, the fusion of shattered fragments gives rise to art more profound than what emerges from flawless elements...

Chapter 1: She

She awoke to a cascade of tears, haunted by vivid memories: being forced to the ground, her tortured cries, the horrifying sight of blood escaping her body and seeping onto the road, and the piercing sting of betrayal. Amidst these vivid recollections, a layer of perpetual pain lingered�"the echoes of misuse, a dark narrative she yearned to erase.

Yet, it wasn't these haunting recollections that brought forth her tears. It was the vision of her reflection in the mirror, confronting the scar etched below her abdomen where a knife had been dragged down, that shattered her each morning�"a painful reminder of what she had lost. In the quiet moments before the day unfolded, her tears painted a poignant portrait of both physical and emotional wounds, forever etched upon her being.

Her tears flowed like secret rivers, concealed from the world's fleeting glances. Emotions, pain, and thoughts were veiled within, revealing themselves only in the profound silence of the darkest nights�"an intimacy shared only with solitude.

This particular night unfolded beneath an obsidian sky, bereft of stars. The clouds, heavy and indifferent to the ache within her heart. The moon, usually a celestial confidant, remained obscured, shielded from her shadowed musings. Even the radiant moonlight seemed wary of being engulfed by the gravitational pull of her profound, dark thoughts.

Along the perilous edge of the cliff, she tread cautiously, her arms tightly crossed over her chest in a desperate attempt to stave off the violent shivers provoked by the capricious gusts of cold wind. Her inky-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, an intricate dance choreographed by the whims of the breeze.

Beneath her bitten lips, traces of blood hinted at the silent battle within as she fought to contain the tears threatening to escape. Her eyes, a profound shade of deep brown bordering on black, served as windows into her soul. A keen observer would discern how these orbs functioned as projectors, revealing the ephemerality of her emotions. Veiling them in secrecy, her long, dark lashes fluttered rapidly against the persistent wind, as if it sought to push her back into a realm where control slipped through her grasp.

In the inky depths of her contemplation, the Stygian waters mirrored the profound darkness within her soul, a crevice as deep and haunting as her wounded heart. Memories cascaded like shadows, vividly replaying the moment she lay abandoned on the cold road, blood seeping from her wounds. The chilling touch of fear gripped her, a constant reminder of the ominous knife lying beside her hips, a malevolent presence in the silence.

The allure of that blade beckoned, an agonizing temptation she longed to yield to, but her paralyzed limbs denied her escape from the relentless pain. Amidst the agony, her senses echoed with the thudding resonance of her racing heart, reverberating through the desolation of the dark alley�"a haunting symphony of despair and anguish.

The coarse embrace of the road's unforgiving surface pierced her bare skin, while relentless mosquitoes feasted on her vulnerability. This ordeal, though familiar, left indelible marks this time, scars etched deeper than before. The pain of misuse, a persistent specter, refused to fade. The relentless drain of blood from her wound painted a grim portrait of her reality. As her eyes fluttered shut, a curtain descended, veiling her from a world that had unfolded in ways she never could have foreseen.

In her attempt to recollect, her mind selectively revealed and concealed memories. The struggle to remember induced a burning ache in her temple, an elusive narrative lacking a clear endpoint. Erecting mental barriers, she shielded her experiences and emotions from the world, obscuring her yearning to be loved for all that she was.

She had woven a narrative that convinced her that existence was a cruel cycle of being used and despised. Stripped of emotions, she had meticulously reconstructed herself, only to confront the harsh truth that she belonged nowhere, a nomad in her own existence. The haunting echoes of her past, relentless and unyielding, painted a somber portrait of a soul adrift in the abyss of despair.

Each rejection carved a new gash on her heart, a fresh stab aimed at existing wounds. Yet, she bore the pain stoically, a silent guardian of her own suffering. Her endurance was a shield, crafted from the fragments of her own shattered resilience. For in her deepest core, she harbored an unwavering wish�"a plea for the universe to be spared the searing agony she had come to know intimately.

She carried the weight of her loneliness, an intimate companion she had learned to embrace. A cloak of anger had enveloped her once vibrant love for life. In the silent battles within, her ire was a relentless arrow, invariably aimed at herself for not being enough. As she sat on the edge of the cliff, a step away from death, she couldn't escape the echoes of those she had lost, pushed away in a desperate attempt to save them from the storm within, leaving behind a look of disgust and hate on their faces�"a bitter reminder of the chaos she couldn't spare them from. In the depth of despair, she thought herself useless and released a heart-wrenching sob into the oblivion. Each thought darker than the previous, dragged her forward, inch by inch, towards the edge of the cliff, tears staining the earth below her, until only the corner of her hips clung to the cliff�"a fragile tether to a world slipping away.

And that is what it took for the clouds to part, not to spill the moon's comforting light on her but to reveal something, a someone. A few yards away, a dark figure mirrored her desolate posture, one of losing all hopes in life. The crashing waves, once robust, now stilled, allowing his sobs to be heard. A realization dawned on her: the figure, he, just like her, had traversed a lonely journey in the vast world. His aura felt a lot like home to her, for it was the same one she crafted out of her darkest thoughts.

His presence exerted a magnetic pull on her, a gravitational force that enveloped her body. As she hesitantly sat beside him, she discovered that his eyes were a beautiful shade of green, one so unique and bewitching that it created a tender smile on her lips�"a fleeting moment of solace amid the shadows.

- Achala. K

Reviews

[Makadewaandegeke]

Hello Achala,

First off, exquisite use of prose in crafting a story that speaks of grave loss, and forlorn hope. In addition, I loved the addition of Greek mythos (stygian waters), it really helps set the tone and setting.

My only piece of constructive advice is to be more specific with your POV; are we reading the thoughts of the Narrator or Third-Person Limited - Are we the reader seeing the story from an all knowing god, or only through the thoughts/feelings/vision of the FL?

"Beneath her bitten lips, traces of blood hinted at the silent battle within as she fought to contain the tears threatening to escape. Her eyes, a profound shade of deep brown bordering on black, served as windows into her soul. A keen observer would discern how these orbs functioned as projectors, revealing the ephemerality of her emotions. Veiling them in secrecy, her long, dark lashes fluttered rapidly against the persistent wind, as if it sought to push her back into a realm where control slipped through her grasp." - this is the paragraph I'm referring too its from a narrators perspective whereas the rest of the story seems to be third-person limited, apologies if I'm mistaken though!

Respectfully,

Maka

[Achala]

Thank you so much!! I’ll surely work on the points you’ve told me!! Also, I’ve written the story through the perspective of the character.. what she feels, thinks, imagines, and so on..I hope I answered your query!! I look forward to hearing more such constructive criticism from you!!!❤️

[Makadewaandegeke]

Of course, I'm still a student myself so please take aby advice I give with a grain of salt but I'd be happy to read your other works! By chance would you be interested in reading dark fantasy? I've posted the first three chapters of my book on here as well

[Achala]

I'm glad you wish to read my other works!! Although I'm not much of a dark fantasy fan, I'd love to check your stories out once!!!