tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39503646833559339222024-02-19T05:11:59.224+01:00Not another random blogJusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-58084491949446010132014-03-08T22:05:00.003+01:002014-03-10T22:07:40.976+01:00Welcome back, Jack.<span style="color: #cccccc;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The stifled sound of broken glass woke him up. It was past midnight by now; the heavy wind was bending the old tree in the backyard, pushing its branches against his second floor window. He got up from bed, and made his way towards the door. Right when he was about to touch the doorknob, he stopped and looked back, outside the window. The moon's gleam was brighter than usual, it's beams making their way from behind the tree branches. A howling sound from far away got his attention. "There's no wolfs in these woods, I must be still half asleep", he thought.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> He shook his head and left the room. By now, he was wondering if the noise that woke him up wasn't just in his head. Before he could place his right foot on the staircase, he heard the noise again. It sounded exactly like a half empty bottle of whisky rolling on the wooden floor, Macallan 1984 to be more precise. His uncle always had an affinity for old whiskey. When you're being raised by your barely functional, alcoholic uncle, you get to learn how different bottles produce different sounds. If only there was a competition for this type of ability. Already sure of what.. or who, he's gonna find downstairs, he carefully continued to descend the stair case.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "Welcome back, Jack." he says, looking down at his old man; better said, what was left of him. He was almost passed out, his face stuck to the hard wood floor. His left hand reaching out the direction of the bottle. It'd be almost funny if it wasn't so darn sad. He was fifty-five but looked like seventy; forty years of alcohol abuse will do that to you.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "You never ap-appreciated.. what I've sacrificed.. for you. You bloody bastard, I should've.. should've left you in that damn shit house they call an orphanage" Jack says, raising his eyes at Peter. He somehow managed to get himself up, clinging to the wall. "I know that look, you think you're better than me. Don't you, you little tosser?", and as he says that he falls back to the floor.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "I'm not the one laying on the floor in my own piss, now am I Jack?" says Peter with a grin on his face. Peter always wondered if it was a coincidence, that his uncle's parents named him Jack. He always found it ironic, considering his relationship with the whisky bottles.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "Ya bloody tosser, get over here! I'll show ya who's pissing his pants!", says Jack as he quickly gets himself up. It would seem his balance is fine out of a sudden, as he rushes towards Peter. But even without balance problems, at his age, all Pete has to do is take a step back.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jack falls to the ground smashing his nose against the floor. But as we know, rage and alcohol are quite the pair. Jack quickly gets up and manages to land the back of his hand against Peter's face.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> It took Peter five years to find his way back. It's been five years since his uncle left the house in an ambulance. It was on a hot afternoon of August that they last saw each other. They had a fight, and after years and years of abuse, he couldn't take it anymore. His uncle Jack never really hit him, and sometimes he wishes he did. It would make Peter feel less guilty for beating the crap out of him that night. He just couldn't take it anymore. Not after his aunt Beatrix killed herself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jack was never really aggressive, not in a physical way at least. But he made it his target to ruin everything in the house, to shame his family, or to harass his wife Beatrix. No one could understand it unless they've been through that. Sometimes psychological damage is far more destroying than physical beatings. At least that's what Peter always thought.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The night right after aunt Bettie's funeral, Jack showed up drunk and started cussing at Pete. He told Peter it was his fault, Peter should have been there to stop her. That's what Jack kept telling him, until Peter snapped. When the ambulance got to their house, Jack was passed out in his own blood. Peter swore to never do such a thing again. He would not let Jack turn him into a monster, he would not embrace Jack's darkness.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Peter felt the blood rushing through his nostrils. A rage took over him in the blink of an eye. He hit Jack back. Once, twice.. Jack hits the floor. Three, four and the fifth sends away a shower of blood onto the wooden floor. It's almost as if the blood.. drops on the same exact place it did, five years ago.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jack grabs the bottle from his side and smashes it over Peter's skull. He grins as a few drops of whiskey touch his lips in the fall. Jack gets himself up and heads for the door. Peter is slowly fading away, as the pool of blood forms around his head. "I should have kept my promise, I should have walked away", those were his last thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jack opens the door, but the rush of the fight blinds his vision. By the time he noticed the wolves on the front deck, it was far too late to close the door. Five wolves, five pairs of eyes that shine yellow in the midst of the night. They attack in the split of a second, dragging him into the house. Behind cold walls, now lay the remains of two bodies.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Only a beast can kill another, you need a monster to send another one to Hell.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc;">"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Love,Just.</span><br />
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<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-63209823591685120522014-02-27T00:27:00.001+01:002014-02-27T00:27:20.445+01:00Goodbye silent echoesSteps on the cold concrete, echoing between the tall buildings of the city. Steps that twirl the dust on the long pavements. He used to walk like that all the time, alone through empty places. His days where full of gloomy rain, and when the rain would stop, there'd be no sunshine. Black clouds covered the sky and a thick white fog would not let him see further. "Smile" was but a word, and he had no idea what it means.<div>
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Now, now there's rays of sunshine touching his skin. A warm feeling he is not used to; it confuses him. He wants to run, he wants the light to go away. We often find it uncomfortable, the happiness; when we've been deprived of it for a long time, it bothers us. He starts to run, trying to get back into the fog. But as he runs, he bumps into someone. Out of a sudden the silhouettes are being brought to life; like the waves of the ocean, getting out through the mist. Each wave is bigger, more clear. Eventually the water becomes a clear turquoise, and he can hear the waves. </div>
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Enough empty streets, goodbye silent echoes. He can hear the noise now, he can feel the warmth. There's a whole new scene, and more than one actor. It's Spring, with it's bright colors and beautiful sounds. It seems he'll be alright with this. Time to explore the new.</div>
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Love,</div>
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Just.</div>
Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-42808674051698128932014-01-20T00:40:00.005+01:002014-01-27T23:12:31.802+01:00We come and go. We leave only so we can return.<span style="color: white;">It wasn't long ago that I left all behind, being so sure I am leaving for good. Looking for a new place, a new life, a new you, another me. I did find all of those, but one. Beneath the oak tree standing tall, as if to take the shape of a guardian, under the hypnotizing moonlight.. I found the shadows and walked amongst them. It took a while, but I eventually realized those shadows were only reflections on a frozen lake. Once you break the ice, it cracks beneath the shadows while the black water swallows them.</span><br />
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Shadows were not the only thing I found on those misty,frozen, lands. There is no shadow without light, embrace one and you control the other. Hope, such a small word, yet such great power. The streets all lightened up, one, by one. With every street lamp lighting up, another alley showing up from the dark; another choice, another road.. all mine and waiting to be walked upon. With steady feet I traveled here and there, until.. until it was enough. </span><br />
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Have you ever felt you accomplished your target, without knowing exactly what the target was? Because I did, and so I went back. Back to the first line of a drawing, but having drawn half of it in my own mind. Back to the first stroke of a pen, but having written a whole book before your eyes. Back to the first unpinned button of her shirt, yet already seeing her naked body reflecting the dim light of a red candle.</span><br />
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There are unfinished stories in this old place I once called home. I still call it that, but I do not feel it any longer. It is more of a half finished book, there's chapters to be filled and I would rather fill them now. Before the dust, that sets over with time, will cover all these pages taking away the words.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Just.</span><br />
<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-39603916546725118282013-12-13T18:42:00.002+01:002014-01-27T23:12:42.652+01:00B.<div>
<span style="color: white;">It was just the two of them, surrounded by cold.. a few dim lights lit up the pathway . She gently put her arms around his back and pulled him close. It's like she knew, without a word, without a sign; she just knew he felt alone and cold. He hugged her back as she rested her delicate chin on his left shoulder. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">He felt her warm breath upon his neck, a warmth not to be felt until long after. Her cheeks were so cold they almost stuck to his. He could have made a move, but it would've ruined the moment. Instead he chose to embrace that feeling, that moment. When someone so fragile gets close to you, you become afraid; the fear makes you frozen and stuck in place, such as a swan in the middle of a frozen lake. A fear of breaking her, as if she were an object. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">And so the innocence started to fill him up, until everything felt pure. All that existed in that moment, was innocence. This is a memory he will carry forever; when the night gets too dark, when the paths become a dead end. He will turn back the pages, back to this chapter. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Farewell, B.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">"Can you hear me?"</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Love,Just.</span></div>
Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-26621784110643303932013-12-12T20:50:00.002+01:002014-01-27T23:13:26.627+01:00Can you hear me?<span style="color: white;">Are you hiding? Was it your shadow, that passed by mine tonight? </span><br />
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Out in the cold, surrounded by the leaves and naked trees. A whirlwind of the past hit me in the face, and I almost woke up. I almost came back, looking for you, for me.. for us. It's all but voices in the wind. The sweet taste of perfume left like a trail, meant to be followed. </span><br />
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So was it you? And if it was, where did you go? Why didn't you stop? </span><br />
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I can't find you if I don't know who you are, love.</span><br />
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"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
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Love,Just.</span><br />
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<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-79015477505463665512013-12-02T21:15:00.000+01:002014-08-10T22:05:13.751+02:00A glimpse of what you truly are<span style="color: white;">I've been walking down these concrete roads, back and forth no matter day or night. Two steps forward, look back, keep going. I've been on many crossroads, ah.. so many chosen paths. There's even more to come, and many to be left behind. I'm not even halfway through my journey, and I have yet long distance ahead. For many trees I will pass by, an almost endless pathway.</span><br />
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As it was bound to happen, I got lost somewhere along the way. I do not claim to have found myself yet, but I have become aware of where I'm at. I find this place comforting, if not enjoyable, yet I move forward towards a better place.</span><br />
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"Behind the ice cold glass, within the dusty pages, I caught but a glimpse of what you truly are. I want.. I need more. These pages will not come to an end, not until I decide so. It's my film, I make the cuts and I decide the ending."</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
Love,Just.</span>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-8918287765303594812013-11-24T21:59:00.000+01:002014-01-27T23:14:25.318+01:00The white owl<span style="color: white;">It's late, the sky is dark. No stars to show him the way, not tonight. There's only black clouds, and traces of what appears to be a full moon. You can't see it behind the darkness, but a few dim yellow rays managed to escape through the cracks. Light finds it's way all the time, don't it? </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">The white owl will guide him tonight. It spreads it's majestic wings in an attempt to cover the clouds, like a white veil floating in the wind. It's eyes shine through the night like a calling. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Walking gently, he disappears in the night, as he follows the white owl.</span><br />
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"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
Love,Just.</span>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-46440914789636344162013-11-21T00:36:00.000+01:002014-01-27T23:16:30.414+01:00Amongst the shadows.<span style="color: white;">Standing tall amongst the shadows, his eyes lighting up the dark. He walked through the darkness for what felt like a thousand years. It is there in the dark that he has found beauty. In this awful place that takes part in his mind, he can create and mold. Give form and color to all that is faded and dark. Slay and destroy, in order to build and give life to his dreams. Little by little it all brightens up, one by one, yellow lights on a starry night. He gathers the pieces to make his soul whole again. He drowned into silence and dreamed of this moment. But the silence is gone, so he needs to keep going. </span><br />
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<span style="color: white;">Never stop, it never really ends.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">"Can you hear me?"</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Just.</span><br />
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Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-72330392309902352702013-11-19T20:26:00.001+01:002014-01-27T23:16:43.314+01:00A leap into the void.<span style="color: white;">He's standing in front of the pit. It ain't a metaphor for hell, there are no burning flames inside, no spikes or devils down below. Something far more terrible awaits in the darkness. Fear and nothingness, despair and sorrow. His own self, lost and troubled. He realizes now, he needs to get down there, to find himself among the shadows. So he decides to take a leap into the void. But fear no more, for he is going to return. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
The beauty about darkness, as well as fear, is that once faced it dissipates. The shadows scatter in the morning light. Sorrow can only fade away in front of happiness. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">This was the first, but not the final jump.</span><br />
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"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
Love,<br />Just.</span><br />
<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-64364686504560731912013-11-19T04:51:00.002+01:002014-01-27T23:16:56.023+01:00The Devil rides shotgun.<span style="color: white;">Wind howling through the half down window. The engine growls repeatedly in it's attempt to dance with the dirty road. A black mustang galloping through to the unknown. The broken speedometer is all the way to the right, one hundred and twenty Miles per hour. But he's running even faster, he can feel it. He keeps a steady hand on the wheel, knowing one small mistake and it all turns into a lump of metal. Fire and ashes, and trails of hot petrol on the cold senseless highway. For a second, he wants that.</span><br />
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He wants to feel something, even if death. To know there is no left regret.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">He wants to rise, only to fall and rise again. The love, the joy, the fear and pain. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">He wants it all and something more. To find and lose, he wishes for.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Something to gain, something to lose. Tonight he's making no excuse.</span><br />
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He's not alone. The Devil rides shotgun tonight.</span><br />
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"Can you hear me?"</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
Love,Just.</span><br />
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<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-13979934393233034992013-11-16T20:44:00.001+01:002014-01-27T23:17:14.074+01:00She's just a phantom.<span style="color: white;">It's been a while since their last chat. Like a phantom she swept in and out of his life. Leaving no trace of her existence, no assurance of her connection with reality. He always thought it's rather odd, how even up close, he could not sense her scent. How from afar her big eyes always shined, brighter than any dark gem. </span><br />
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<span style="color: white;">All he's got is frames of motion. He's standing by the window, she's not too far away. He can not see her lips, a couple strands of hair are in the way. Yet somehow he knows, he knows she's smiling. Whenever he talked, she would turn completely towards him, locking her eyes on his. She wanted to make sure nothing is lost, none of the emotion within the words he spoke. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Her picture slowly fades away. With every blow of wind, another layer of dust sets over. Eventually the dust will take over the memories, and he'll be left with all but a pile of ashes. Ashes ready to be blown away by every breath he draws. He wonders if she ever existed. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Reality can get difficult to recognize without an anchor.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">"Ooo- oo</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Won't you meet me in the morning?</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Ooo- ooo</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">You left without any warning</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Ooo- ooo Oh-Oh</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">I don't know where to put you now</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Ashes like snow</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Where did you go-oh?" (Lilly Kershaw - Ashes like snow)</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">"Can you hear me?"</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Just.</span></div>
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Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-66151805165365881932013-11-12T17:32:00.002+01:002013-11-12T17:32:41.835+01:00The gate<span style="color: #0b5394;">Walking below the leafless branches, through the dark place he once called forest. There is no forest anymore, the cold wind blew them all apart. One by one, they fell to the ground. Echoing in the dark as they hit the cold dirt. It's only now that he is able to notice all that's around him. He's in a maze.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">He's been walking for long, hoping for more. Having no clue that he's slowly walking in circles, dancing with the leaves, talking to the wind. It is now, that he can truly see beyond the dark green veil, a veil that covered his eyes all along. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">From far away he notices, a tall iron gate. He starts running towards it, but the more he runs, the further he is. Every step he takes enlarges the distance. He can not reach the gate by any means, so he decides to stop. He stands still with his eyes closed as his arm reaches forward. Suddenly, he feels his fingertips against the gate. Eyes open and he sees it, the iron gate in front of him. A gate covered in dirt and rust, a gate that holds his dreams and hopes within.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">In one swift motion he opens the gate and walks through it. The iron doors close behind him, and he wakes up in what appears to be another forest. He got out of the labyrinth, a labyrinth of smoke and ashes. He passed a gate but there's a thousand more to come. A thousand more, small paths to walk upon. He can not rest, and nor to stop. Another gate awaits him.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Just.</span>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-37466379012916461772013-11-11T00:17:00.002+01:002013-11-11T00:18:58.341+01:00Five seconds<span style="color: #0b5394;">The stars are lot brighter from the 14th floor roof top. They are both on the ledge, legs hanging down to what appears to be an invitation towards a sudden death. Neither of them will say it out loud, but they're both sharing a thought. Five seconds, disguised as an eternity. That's how long it would take for them to end it all. One jump, two souls, and an uncertain destination. As cold and frozen as it is, the concrete would feel warmer than any of the hotel beds. Their journey would end with a bang.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Ah but what a shame, to fill her dress up all in red. A shame to smudge the color off her pretty lips, or to destroy that smile. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">She wouldn't dare to let him close those eyes forever. Not now, not ever.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">There's pages to be filled, and chapters to end. Tonight they dance in total darkness, intoxicated but alive. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-31192527534750501962013-11-07T19:21:00.000+01:002013-11-07T19:21:05.255+01:00The window from afarHe sees the window from afar, as if divided by two frames. A yellow dim light brightens it up, a light that's always on when the darkness falls upon the window. It's far and yet so close.<br />
One step, and through the clear glass he sees her.<br />
<br />
-What are you doing, standing here by the window?<br />
-I'm waiting for you, she says.<br />
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He looks at her but he can't see the details, just blurry shapes in a dim yellow light. He want's to reach to her but all he feels is cold glass. Their fingertips are against one another, melting the barrier between. Slowly and steady, soon there will be nothing to stop them. Every second that passes feels like eternity, but the seconds will pass. When that will happen he won't be on the outside anymore. She won't have to wait.<br />
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Echoing deep, she hears him "I'm almost there".<br />
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Love,Just.Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-33524956273811290522013-11-06T01:34:00.003+01:002013-11-06T01:35:15.295+01:00The oak.<span style="color: #0b5394;">The old oak tree stands tall as they lay beneath it, on the cold autumn leaves. If it wasn't for the wind to assure him, he'd think it is all but a dream. An old story on what used to be a white page, before time left it's yellow prints all over. But he's not dreaming anymore, he can not be.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">She's there but they can't touch each other. They touch, but they don't feel a thing. Her long blond hair, her green eyes the color of topaz, her fresh white-pink lips. They're all there right in front of him, but he can not see. Just as she can not feel his warmth while his arms are around her, neither the passion he puts into every kiss on her cold neck.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">They are but ghosts, to one another. Both real, both fantasy. Two souls that don't exist together.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">The old oak tree, stands tall.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span><br />
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<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-37261955088801123972013-10-27T02:21:00.001+02:002013-10-27T02:21:41.441+02:00A glimpse at the past.<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394;">They never met, and yet they know each other. At least he knows her. She tries to fool him and herself, but he can see beyond her foolish try to deceive. The mask becomes useless to her, as every thought echoes through to him. He gets through all that mist within she hides. Once the mist is gone, we become naked, stripped by our fake smiles, we become special.. beautiful even.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">He can't tell yet if she's in for the long ride, he doesn't know if she'll get off at the next station. That's the good part, not knowing when they part away. They're on different paths but share the same train. Be it short or not, the train left the station and they started their journey. To better places, for better wishes. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">She helped him glimpse back at the past, reminded him of who he was and what he has become. The cold autumn rain, that brings you back to reality with every drop that falls onto your face. Reality.. such an important thing we often fall away from.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span></div>
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Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-87683033102794069152013-10-27T00:06:00.001+02:002013-10-27T00:07:50.633+02:00An old willow tree<span style="color: #0b5394;">She's in her late twenties, she's all grown up. Dark blonde with a hint of gold in her hair, perfect height and an average weight. There's nothing there for you, nothing special, not on the first glimpse. She doesn't even share anything with you, nothing in common, no point to bond.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">-"I've never been there"</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">-"So let's go then! C'mon, don't be scared!" she said, with a big smile on her pretty face. You can't miss that smile, it makes your body stop for just a split second. You're just standing there eyes locked on the upper lip and the shiny piercing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">That's how their journey started, in the begining of a small pathway. They kept going and going, until they were too deep in the forest to go back. Soon the minutes turned into moments, and the surroundings into paintings.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">-"Look! I found an old willow tree" she says with excitement.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">-"I guess we both found something interesting today, love.."</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">The tree was hollow, like it was missing a big part of itself. So that made two of them.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">They sat there for a while, enjoying the time, enjoying themselves, enjoying eachother. One of those special moments that can't and will not ever be replicated, but the memory remains. In the end, all we got is memories, and this was a good one.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span><br />
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<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-10347622722397032062013-08-26T00:42:00.002+02:002013-10-27T00:11:07.509+02:00The last train.<span style="color: #0b5394;">"We made it love! We're here." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">The quietness surrounds them like a summer mist. Only.. it's the end of the summer, it's August. The green grass is not yet gone, you can still smell it in the morning. A fresh scent that wakes you up, just as an entire waterfall of nature's fragrance would hit you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">They sit there.. watching the ducks bathing in the sun's light and the lake's blue water. Sometimes just doing nothing and enjoying the view, is the most perfect thing you can do. It's the time when you get a glimpse to the simplicity of life. at the same time unable to neglect the importance of death.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">"You know, I'm gonna have to let go of your hand soon. I hope you are ready."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">And as she said that, she gently stroke his fingers while kissing his left cheek. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">"I know love, I try to pretend I don't, but I know." </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Truth is, he didn't just pretend, he convinced himself it's a lie. Many try to achieve such a thing, the point where they meet total denial. Not so many succeed. But him, oh he's so damn good at it!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">"We could stay here forever, we could change together.. yet, we should not. Maybe we just met too soon"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">"Maybe we met exactly when we needed it. I know I did, I needed this so bad. I needed you like I need air to breathe right now." </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Now you need to get on that train,love. So goodbye.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span></div>
Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-63720640664767596642013-01-20T22:41:00.001+01:002013-01-20T22:42:19.420+01:00A grain of sand<span style="color: #0b5394;">"It's the middle of summer and we're on the beach. Sand grains running down our feet with every step we make. The sun is not up yet, and the fog is slowly retreating with every minute that passes. We've been walking on the beach for what feels like forever. Neither of us dares to speak, we are just walking down the lane of our memories."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Out of a sudden, she breaks the silence. "We've been walking for so long, maybe it's time we stopped and gave ourselves a moment". As she said that, a short smile showed up on her face. It was just a short one, cause soon after she let out a sigh.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">As he stops, his eyes are glancing at her small hand. "Your nail polish is wearing off. I think it looks like the polish particles are trying to get away from your fingers. I can't imagine anyone or anything would want to be away from you". She grins and takes a sit on the cold sand, and as she does that, he realizes how dull his comment sounded. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">"Let's get back to the silence, I just want to stay here and be with you right now. Anything, everything ..is far away from us right now, far behind those rocks" she says, as she looks at the enormous rocks that part the beach from the streets of the city.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394;">The city may not be so far behind the rocks, but that's just in the real world. They ..they live in a fantasy right now, and it is fucking sweet.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-35834998536967071812013-01-19T22:43:00.002+01:002013-01-19T22:45:24.758+01:00Old city<span style="color: #0b5394;">It's late in night. The wind blows hard through the dark alleys of the city, passing by the shadowed windows and leaving all the souls behind. If it could whisper, if it could talk, the wind would share so many thoughts of all those souls that hide from it ... they hide behind the carved, dusty walls of their buildings. Those very same walls that wind passed by so many times, and will pass again, and again, until the very end.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br />
A young man is walking those dark alleys, looking for ..something, anything. Anything that could get him away from all of it. He walks slowly, listening to all the sounds around him. It might be late, but the city never sleeps ..you can always hear the noise, be it late in night or early morning. The sound of an engine fades away into the distance, the noise of an old air conditioner ticks like a broken clock ..tick! tick! tock! tick! tock! tock!</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br />
In the building on the left he can see a light on, at the second floor. A young girl, barely in her high school years just walked into the kitchen. Every night you can hear her mother cry, every night she hopes it's the last time her daughter showed up late ..with a bottle of vodka.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">If you look a bit to the left, you will see a couple in their mid 20's. He came home wearing the scent of another woman. She still hopes this is the last time, he promised after all. He promised last week, and the week before, and he will promise again 3 months from now. One year from now, he will be at a different window ..only this time it will be her that will promise. Unless, this is the real world. In real world the window will remain the same, and she will only be one year older ..hoping as always.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br />
Ah sweet old city, a place of hopes and dreams, overwhelmed and overtaken by fear and despair. A place that doesn't know the notion of quiet.</span><br />
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-Been a while since my last post. A "friend" if I may call her that, reminded me how much I enjoyed writing a short story every now and then. I'm back, or so I think at the moment.</span><br />
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Love,Just.</span><br />
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<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-6635194120436292062012-07-14T01:13:00.000+02:002012-07-14T01:13:01.646+02:00Deep withing the forest<span style="color: #0b5394;"> One forest and only two souls. It's the middle of the forest, and all they got is a hollow. The storm is approaching and soon takes over the nature. Wind howling, leafs rustling ... trees cracking. A warm pleasing feeling surrounds them. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">They're not scared, but rather curious. They've been waiting for this, a perfect storm .. in a perfect place. There they are, holding hands and turning round and round. It's like the nature feels they're not scared and tries its best. But the more nature tries, the happier they are. They feel compelled to seize the moment, for it's not everyday that they experience it. One moment, one place, two souls and the bond between them. </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">It started to rain, it rains over them, cleaning them off of all their sadness, their boredom ...their complexity. For now, they've become simple and happy.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Happiness. Sadly it comes not easy for those alike them. But once they've found it, nothing is the same. That big fucked up world seems a bit less messed up for a moment; they're less messed up for a moment.</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">They enter the hollow of a tree. The space is so small, their bodies seem to bind. Their souls become one; feelings become one's and one's only. Skin touching, hands locked in , one onto another; their lips bind and their tongues melt like liquid metal.One shall remember such moment and treasure its deep meaning.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span><br />
<br />Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-70103945575072340922012-07-13T00:28:00.000+02:002012-07-13T00:28:30.065+02:00Mirrors.<br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">He sees himself but refuses to believe. "That's not me. It can't be, can it?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Each time he takes a look at it, the image changes. It's like a slide show set on 'fast'. His appearance shifts so fast, his mind can't keep up. The boy's thoughts begin to wander around the great green plains. There are times when his thoughts get lost in time and space, in mind and heart ... until they fade away. They fade away only so others can take place. "Ignorance is bliss" </span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394;">Out of a sudden he's back in the room and once again, he gets back to reality. Boredom and simplicity encircle him ... just like the morning fog surrounds the trees on a lakeside.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;">Love,Just.</span>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-39911292922198488412012-02-23T22:58:00.000+01:002012-02-23T22:58:03.919+01:00When the clocks stop ticking.<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The sun is rising over the dusty buildings of the city,light beams rushing to get through the white clouds and touch the cold streets of concrete.It's morning and she's still there beside him,softly breathing over his neck.And every breath that hits him is better than the other,and every breath awakens another part of him.Her skin is soft and tender..and every little inch of it desires to be touched.Or be it him the one with the desire?If so the case,then why,would be the question.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He can't do it,he can't risk to wake her up and lose such an image.The moment must be seized,the feeling engraved into his mind and the picture! Oh the picture must be carved on his retina.Once,and only once that deed is done,the desire can be satisfied.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As she wakes up,her astonishing eyes meet his and the time stops for a moment.The clocks don't tick no more,'cause for a while,there's the two of them...and the two of them only.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*Will be continued*</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Love,Just.</span></div>Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-86676648897745688352012-01-25T22:32:00.000+01:002012-01-25T22:32:12.327+01:00 There's so much light out of a sudden that he's starting to look for the shadows.He feels like something just ain't right.How'd he get to have all this on such short notice.The cold wind blows into his face,it's like every snowflake that hits his face is trying to get him back to reality,to wake him up.But a snowflake is just a snowflake,it's not the size but rather the essence.Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3950364683355933922.post-58468289580779565372012-01-23T20:54:00.000+01:002012-01-23T20:54:22.112+01:00New beginings New chapter,new page..everything is fresh and innocent.The wind blew away all that mist that was surrounding him,he's starting to breath again.As rays of light softly touch the surroundings the shadows pull away,back into the dark corners they came from.He's well aware the shadows might return at any time,they always do...but hoping never hurts!<br />
New can be bad,good or both at the same time and that's the beauty of it.You never know for sure,but taking a chance makes life interesting,some would say.So there he is,risking again,taking another chance.He'll never stop trying,never gonna give up.With every fall there comes the rising!<br />
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I haven't posted in a while...kinda had a bad time,lack of inspiration,or just too much to write so I choose not to write at all.I'm back for now.<br />
Love,Just.Justhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09039752389768028122noreply@blogger.com0