poeticmud

[poeticmud]

Wondering what never-have-i-ever seemed like for medieval peasants:

"Never-have-i-ever eaten moldy bread cuz ma was too busy worshipping our goat"

Barthelomeow proudly takes a gulp of ale in dented bronze tumbler and lets out a hearty burp.

#fiction #goat #gaiman #writing

[poeticmud]

Alright, I might actually sit my ass down and finish a few short stories over the summer

#writers

[poeticmud]

Sometimes the most kindness you can show a person who has a knife lodged inside of their heart because of you is to let them know that they're free to choose their happiness elsewhere.

Be gentle while closing the door on their hopes, you've the right to choose whose love you decide to reciprocate but they've a right to your kindness too.

[poeticmud]

Sometimes, the seemingly bad friends aren't actually the bad ones. Social media has us romanticising exclusion, making us think our friend group actively excluding us shows how superior we are and how they must be so insecure.

That's not true, it's comforting but not true most of the times, sometimes it is infact us. How many of us are forcibly staying in a group that hasn't accepted us because we want to project a certain image.

[poeticmud]

Summary:

Eliah Isa Jehan is back in Clemont after the tragedy that destroyed the order of his perfectly going life. The tragedy remains shrouded in mystery with Eliah the only keeper of the secret so dark that he's terrified to close his eyes at night.

Elizabeth Jane Campbell outwardly presents the picture of perfection with many people envious of her but nobody knows the constant battle she fights. She's a battered soldier at a war she's not sure she can win.

Now, in senior year, both Eliah and Lizzy stand face to face, both unwilling to play the game yet forced by fate. Clemont promises everything but only the most deserving gets to take home the shiniest trophy and these two are forced to go to any length to be that person.

Chapter one

He raked a hand through his hair as he navigated his way through the crisp autumn leaves, not in a mood to hear their excessive crunching.

He drew the lapels of his charcoal trench together as the wind slowly picked up. The sky was streaked with pink and orange- the sun slowly bidding goodbye to the world.

He slowly made his way to the old, rustic cafe at the corner of the street, it was a small, cobbled sanctuary for him-a haven providing him refuge from his woes.

The tiny cafe had seen him go through it all; it had seen him sparkle in spring, witnessed his enthusiasm in summer, heard his cries in autumn and quietly stood by him in the numbing days of winter.

Eliah had seen the cafe experience and change with the seasons as well, the place was still the same old rustic sanctuary at the corner of a street which not many people visited. It wasn't meant for a lively crowd, it was more of a rehab for broken hearts and hopeless souls, a quiet place that welcomed the tears and the sorrow.

Eliah had been coming here since he was but a boy, he had not always been this sad, his memory actually had some warm summers and vibrant springs stored in it but it was melancholy and nostalgia that had always been his companion.

The ever inviting smell of coffee hit his nose as he opened the door of My Heifer. The name appeared odd if one actually paid attention but in the small of Yule it fit in perfectly. The heifer was owned by a warm Persian couple who ran it with their two daughters and a son.

The old wood creaked when he stepped on it to make his way quietly to the window by the far right corner, a faint cloud of dust flew off of the scratched mahogany table from the light thump of his briefcase when he put it down.

He glanced over at Gul just has she was taking out the try out of the oven, her face a bit flushed from the heat. She put the tray down on the counter, threw the cotton cloth on the table and took a sip of her tea.

"Bahar!" She called for her daughter as she picked up the cup in her pudgy hands.

He took off his coat, folded it into half and draped it on the back of his chair. He lowered himself into the maroon upholstered chair, folded back the sleeves of his cream-colored sweater and leaned back, for a moment he just sat there - looking out of the window but not really seeing anything.

He reached behind the chair and after fumbling with his coat a bit, he took out a pack of cigarettes and put it on the table beside his backpack, the ivory pack contrasted greatly with his black leather bag.

He raised his hand and gestured at the waiter to come over by moving his middle and forefinger.

"The regular?" The boy asked who couldn't have been older than twenty, over the past few months, he had gotten familiarised with Eliah's singular taste.

"Yes." He opened up his briefcase and then briefly looked up at the boy who appeared scrawny as if still dealing with the rampage caused by the puberty. He was tall, all-bones. His eyes appeared a warm-whiskey under the golden glow of dusk and the lamps, his face shadowed over the chin by a light, blond fuzz. The huge apron that he wore almost overwhelmed his bony rack.

Eliah lit up a cigarette and after taking a deep puff, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes,letting the familiar smell of tobacco, coffee and vanilla fill him. It was completely dark outside now, the street illuminated by the uneven halos of light from the lamps.

He leisurely smoked while looking at the gentle dance of the dried,orange leaves under the golden glow. He discarded the cigarette butt into the ash-tray and looked around for the boy who was busy setting a tray, his back facing Eliah.

The evening seemed to be having a slow start at the cafe, there were only a handful of people there, all busy in their own little worlds.

Eliah straightened when he saw the reflection of the waiter heading his way.

"Thankyou." He shot him a brief smile. The dark liquid was piping hot with puffs of smoke coming out, Eliah moved the tray aside, waiting for his coffee to cool down a bit. He opened his briefcase and took a lone, parchment paper, a pen and an ink pot.

On top of the paper he wrote "Saturday", it was a careless scroll, just something he wrote down while he waited for the coffee to cool.

He pushed the paper away and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his forehead furrowed at the emotions the paper ignited in him. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger - his attempt at easing the tension.

He leaned forward and grabbed the pen, his fingers hovered over the paper a bit, the lamp overhead amplifying the slight tremor of his hand in anticipation of what he was about to write. After a bit, he put the pen down and picked up his coffee.

He took a slow sip, still looking at the blank paper and pen, hoping the coffee would arm him with the courage to write what he needed to.

He picked up the pen after he was done with the coffee and scraped his chair forward to write better.

"Beloved Maman", his hand stilled as he felt a light shadow of a person approaching him, he immediately picked up the paper, not willing to show it to anyone even by accident.

"I shall not be disturbed" he gave the boy a tight smile.

It was the same person who had served him coffee. He quickly collected the cups and scurried away.

He began to write again;

"365 days since I last saw your smile, 365 days since I've been writing about you, to you. Had you read my letters you would've known I was angry the first hundred days; it was difficult to come to terms with the fact you found me unfit for a son, you wouldnt have left otherwise."

His hand hovered over the word "son" a bit, it was the first time he had written the word on the paper and now his admission lied on the paper for him to see as well as feel what his heart had desired the most at that time and maybe still did, to have a mother who loved him.

His heart sped up at the admission. He had fought the truth the whole year but he was tired now, he was willing to lay down his weapons and surrender, he just wanted to end his agony.

"Accepting you has cost me a year of torment and I still don't know when it'll end. All those letters I've written you to answer my one question:

Why were we not enough?

I don't know if you noticed but the question was hidden in every line of the previous 364 letters I wrote to you. It was hidden in my begging, it was there when I lashed out on you for leaving us, it was hidden in the promises I wrote to lure you back because how much I love you"

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the paper, now tainted with the black ink, telling the tale of his heartache. He smiled at the paper and looked around, the waiter was now on the other side of the cafe, catering to a lady in a fur-lined heavy trench and a fedora. She was partly shrouded in shadows and her back was to Eliah so he couldn't see her face. She was sitting in her trench which Eliah found odd but soon, the thoughts in his head pulled him back to the task at hand.

" I love you, Emari, Mother, I always have, I always will. My only regret is that I realised it when it was too late. I go back to college this year, don't know if father will see me off but I yearn for you to come kiss me goodbye and wish me goodluck."

A lone tear fell on the paper and the ink immediately spread, Eliah shook his head to control his tears but soon another fell and his shoulders began to quiver from suppressed desperation and hurt. He quickly stood up and stumbled as he tried to get out of the chair, the letter clutched in his hand. " I'll come back for my stuff in a bit he quietly told Gul who looked at his shining eyes and just nodded.

Author's Note:

Welcome to Eliah and Lizzy's story.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Updates on every Sunday.

Peace!

[poeticmud]

A cozy, hazy-brown slow-burn romance that smells like vanilla but is too toe curlingly hot for a cashmere sweater. Imagine orange-yellow leaves, flimsy black metal fences guarding Victorian-style houses.

#Fiction #romance #writing

[poeticmud]

Would I ever be loved like the rain is loved by the dry soil, awaiting its arrival, becoming alive on its first touch. How it calms it down with its cool caress, how it hides the signs of sorrow, how it heals the longing to be loved.

This love has always made me wonder, has always fascinated, always forced me to peak from the windows at the gentle dance between the lovers meeting after a while. I sit there like a lonely spectator, entranced by the beauty of what could never be, slowing becoming miserable, slowly becoming a cynic, slowly getting tired of the love, yet unable to walk away, slowly drowning in the blood of my own misery.

#thoughts #poeticthoughts #nature #fanfiction #poetry #love #rain #bts #twilight #posts #poet #scenedescriptiin

[poeticmud]

Would I ever be loved like the rain is loved by the dry soil, awaiting its arrival, becoming alive on its first touch. How it calms it down with its cool caress, how it hides the signs of sorrow, how it heals the longing to be loved.

This love has always made me wonder, has always fascinated, always forced me to peak from the windows at the gentle dance between the lovers meeting after a while. I sit there like a lonely spectator, entranced by the beauty of what could never be, slowing becoming miserable, slowly becoming a cynic, slowly getting tired of the love, yet unable to walk away, slowly drowning in the blood of my own misery.

#thoughts #poeticthoughts #nature #fanfiction #poetry #love #rain #bts #twilight #posts #poet #scenedescriptiin

[poeticmud]

She watched the uncertain dance of a lonely autumn leaf which finally landed on a cold puddle after its long undecided quest of finding a perfect spot. The leaf created waves in a puddle that made it sway a bit before it finally stopped at the edge of it.

As she watched the unstable descent of the leaf, a rueful smile twisted her lips a bit, whether it was the leaf or a thousand different thoughts rushing through her head that made her smile, even she couldn't tell.

#creativewriting #writingcommunity

#writingfiction #fiction #art

[poeticmud]

She slowly added milk to her coffee, intently watching the pristine drops engaging in a wicked dance with the bitter darkness before disappearing.

Gone was their purity, but they weren't completely dark either, instead, the coffee had a rich brown color, a deep caramel, formed by the complex layers of light and dark.

Perhaps, most humans were like that too, she thought to herself, neither saints nor sinners, just something in-between, something so complicated that only the poets could make them appear as they truly were, neither angels nor devils, just mortals.

#writingcommunity

#fiction #fictionscenes

#poets #poeticliterature

[poeticmud]

She slowly added milk to her coffee, intently watching the pristine drops engaging in a wicked dance with the bitter darkness before disappearing.

Gone was their purity, but they weren't completely dark either, instead, the coffee had a rich brown color, a deep caramel, formed by the complex layers of light and dark.

Perhaps, most humans were like that too, she thought to herself, neither saints nor sinners, just something in-between, something so complicated that only the poets could make them appear as they truly were, neither angels nor devils, just mortals.

#writingcommunity

#fiction #fictionscenes

#poets #poeticliterature