Sly Cookie's random writing stuffs.

[Cookie Spren]

As the title suggests, this is a writing thread for anything my brain can think of. There may possibly be a variety of topics. Feel free to comment on them, don't be afraid to disrupt the flow of my writing with your own contributions and ideas, I love the support . Try to keep your comments to an appropriate level and make sure they stay on track with the whole writing thread thing on here.

If you have any feedback, I'd love to hear it. Keep feedback to a respectful tone though (I don't want any problems with anybody being a scudhead).

Anyway, enjoy my friends.

[Cookie Spren]

The Candid Angel, By Me.

It spoke with great reverence to me. The voice was peaceful but strong, gentle as a mothers touch, but commanding as a father. The opposites colliding, but melding together, breathing as one. One heartbeat, one exhale, one mind. "Please," It begged. "Don't leave it behind."

I was of young age at the time. The age of when one still saw the world with eyes anew, an eager way of taking things in from a first time view, whether it hurt or not, because at the end of the day, there would always be someone to hold you.

"Please." It begged again. "You don't have to turn away. It hurts to have someone leave." I wish I listened to those words on that day. The way It pleaded with me, the way it seemed to still care, although I had not cared for it. My heart was stubborn, not even the wildest storms could've tipped me over. Or so I thought.

"I don't need you anymore." I told It. "You make me look to be young and feeble, and I am a child no more." I yanked away. Yet It spoke again. "I will still wait for you. I know you will come back." It gave a melancholy smile that almost drove It to tears. "I have known many like you. Those who have hearts of stone that were once of a pure gold. But they leave. All leave, but some come back. Though I still mourn those who don't return. I never forget them."

I turned back. Remorseless was how I was, turning from even those who tried to love me. But still, I turned, something in me wanted to stay, but then I fled. Where there was once warmth, there was now cold, where there was love, there was now hate, where there was health, there was only disease. My legs ached, my back strained. Running hurt, but that was all I had left. In my isolation, people began to surround me.

"Who are you?" I asked them. They only approached further. "Please," I begged, just as someone had once to me. "Who are you?" They began to beat me to a pulp, their blunt force turning me to nothing but a lump, taking up space, in a meaningless world. Without any words, they left me to die, left me in the cold. But I was so stubborn. Why was I so damn stubborn! 

Another voice rang in my head. It felt as though it knew pain, and it told me of such things. "The world is a monster." It hissed. "The world tears those who are ignorant to shreds. If you wish to end your suffering, you must blend in."  It began to teach me, through years it taught me. It showed me to hurt those who didn't need it, I learned from the best to destroy someone's spirit, and when I was done with them, they would become like me, become like the voice in my head.

But one day, someone arose after their beating. It looked me in my eye, I looking into theirs. Inside, I saw hope. A hope greater than no other. And It spoke to me. "Why?" It asked, truly intrigued. "Why do you hurt those who haven't hurt you?" I stood with wide eyes, stepping back. Afraid. Afraid of the one thing I could not control. It was simply, out of my control. "It gives you no joy to do this. And they receive none as well, through your actions." I began to shake my eyes filled with fear. It took a step forward, I myself being forced to retreat a few steps.

My feet faltered. I tripped. Tripped over everything. My words, my mind, even the coarse dirt that once laid undisturbed, but now was scuffed, unburied, like a hole in the ground, prepared to receive a casket, which inside, lies my body. My mind raced, thinking of all the things that Once Were. No longer was I calculating the things that were to come.

I took a deep breath and fell. Fell through my thoughts, the sky, the ocean. But no. The ocean wasn't of a peaceful calm water, only distinguished by waves. It was now an ocean of blood. The blood of those I had hurt, and those I had caused to become like I had. Had I really hurt so many? Had I truly caused so much anguish? I continued to swim in that great sea, that bloody sea, and I saw blood of my own.

I heard the voice in my head. "Where are you going?!" It cried out. "Leave this place! You have no need to be here. It does you no good to be coming here." A thought of my own appeared, though murky. I had to clear the scum from the thought. I struggled, and was triumphant. The thought was now clear to see. "What good have you done for me voice?" I inquired. "Who are you?" It hesitated but then spoke. "I am your angel!" It howled. "Who are you to ask questions when I rose you up from dying?! you ungrateful scum!"

It appeared to me. I stared into its eyes. And it looked in mine. It was like looking into a mirror. Its eyes were filled with fear. It stumbled back. It trembled and tripped. "Do you not see!" It screamed. "You are I, and I am you!" Its voice was no longer a higher power, it was one of fear. I stood above it, silent. Someone walked up behind me and put their warm hand on my shoulder. I turned to them. It was the one I had tried to hurt. They bore scars of wounds that I had inflicted. 

I looked to Its eyes and remembered. It- No. Not It, but They. They held my shoulder as I remembered. They had once been there for me, and I still ran. Yet... They came back for me. The mirror image began to dissolve. "Do you see now?" They said lovingly. "I am your true angel. But. We, are equals." This Angel spoke as though it knew my pain, as the impersonator did. But unlike the impersonator, this Angel truly knew my pain, and it healed my pain through a bond. A bond that knew of suffering, of anguish.

They looked in my eyes once more. "Do you understand now?" They repeated, but this time with a different question. "That you. You, were your own enemy. When in the cold, you lashed out, you gnashed your teeth, inflicting wounds on others. But you never thought to heal the wounds that you, yourself bore." They rested their head to mine. "But you remembered me. You came back. I knew you would. That you would triumph over your Candid Angel."

I later rested in bed, awaiting the morning and what it would bring. My view had returned. And though my innocence was gone, the scars left by its removal reminded me of the future that I could create. I realized that those scars were in the past, they would not inflict new wounds. They were there as scars alone. Not wounds, but scars. My eyes started to droop, and I fell asleep with my final thoughts, I spoke them to myself, falling into a dreamscape. "Tomorrow," I muttered with a smile. "I hope to gain new scars. So that I may grow." The Angel listened to these words and replied with a single word, a teary smile on their face.

"Why?"

Edited January 17, 2025 by The Sly Cookie

[Keke They/he]

That’s great. Very deep and i love it!