People say I’m a teenager.
Am I?
Sometimes I still feel like that wide-eyed child
That looked at the world with hope
And wonder
Who didn’t care about ‘grades’ or ‘society’
Who didn’t fall asleep with those dreams
Who didn’t want to not want what he wanted
Who still preserved his innocence.
In Romeo And Juliet,
There’s quote
And I can’t quite remember what it says
But it goes along the lines of
‘Kids shouldn’t wake up early with wor
The Ancient Grikels, one of the oldest civilizations on Aerten, buried their most powerful dead in a cave.
This was because they believed that the closer they were to the core of the Aerten, the closer they would be to the great flow of souls. Since then, the great flow of souls has been rigorously disproven by scientists. The same scientists who no longer even attempt to explain the Prophet’s cave. No Yular has ever made the connection.
As per their beliefs, the Ancient Grikels buried
A small yellow fruit.
Disgusting, terrible.
Would never seem remotely edible.
"I can change that."
A household item
Yellow fruit, big, not small.
A Banana.
A human invention.
---
A poison.
A green leaf with an explosive poison inside.
"Edible."
Mint.
A daily use item.
In our toothpastes and gum, a previous poison now turned daily commodity.
---
A neurotoxin.
Infects your mind, releases chemicals.
A new kind
The Yulars considered themselves to be an advanced species, the most so on Aerten. Magically advanced, they described a 'curse' as a negative enchantment that cannot be dispelled, except by the placer. So, when they found the simple spell to dispell any enchantment, including negative ones, they thought there were no more curses.
They were wrong. Family Kilentall had a hereditary curse. So, when a cocky Sorcerer came over with the promise of healing, they thought they would finally be free.
Why did he die when I lived?
Why do people call me by his name?
Why did he have to make me?
When he knew he would not live?
I call myself a monster
And people nod their head.
I am a monster
That much I know
But I was his monster
I am a monster for stealing his name
I am a monster
Because I stole his name
People remember me, not him.
Why don’t they remember him?
I am a monster
Because they remember me
Ding ding.
”I’ll go get it”
I go up to the door.
I already know who it is.
I open the door.
I suppose now is the time to mention my hand was shaking.
The Darkness is at the door.
You should step outside.
Inside is so cold… it’ll be warmer out here
I turn back.
My family is there.
Laughing without me.
But I’m at the door.
Without me.
Occasionally, one of them looks over.
They probably think I’m handling it.
They don’t
Homines, Mors.
Nobody even still remembers
Why?
We forgot.
Simple and true.
All we knew
Was that…
We wanted it.
And that was enough.
That was enough.
Homines is still bustling.
The streets are empty.
But you can hear its death everywhere.
2 solders, sleeping on the streets.
Wearing different uniforms, both bleeding red.
Humans, Death.
--- Part 1 ---
*ding ding*
The sound of the door to the tavern opening.
A jolly Jesk is laughing at all.
Everyone is grumbling, looking away.
"You, in the doorway! Would you like to hear a tale? A tale told by a liar and a fool?" The Jesk asks.
"Ah, you want to know if it is myth or history? Why don't you listen and find out?" The Jesk replies.
Everyone grumbles, and the Jesk tells them to shush.
"Everyone, one and all, who wishes to hear a story, especial
