"And this time? Are you going to try to stop me?" Her voice was too calm for someone to belong to someone on the edge of a cliff. My voice does not come out. Or rather, I have no idea what to answer. My head seems to have stopped in the afternoon that I suggested us to travel here.
If you ask me who is she, I would say she has always been my conscience voice.
For someone brought up by extremely strict parents like her, the very thought of running away from home was blasphemy, a stupid idea. Clearly one of my ideas. That day She gave me that typical look of disbelief that we both knew was useless. She should have worked harder to stop me.
I left at 3:15, everyone was all asleep. Or, so I thought until I found my father drunk on the couch watching TV. The sound was at a minimum, and he noticed me before I noticed him. He asked where I was going. I replied that she had had nightmares, and I was going to sleep at her room. He believed it, or at least I think that was the meaning of that slow nod. I took my mother's motorcycle keys and found her in her garden. She was freaking out. Still, She carried a backpack with our survival kit. And of course, all of our savings from the past few months. The initial idea was to use them to rent our first flat, but now having a permanent residence in this city is the last thing I want. I know she wants it too.
She asked me if I had practiced driving the bike, I said I already knew the basics, she agreed. It was enough for the empty highway on a Tuesday night.
The bike staggered around that sharp corner, but it didn't turn.
The real problem was that I started getting sleepy on the way out of town. She noticed and squeezed me tighter. We started talking to keep us awake. She asked if I was sure this was the best choice, I replied that it was if she really wanted to end the source of her depression. We were going to be safe, no one would know us, she could make her own decisions. This would be the last time I would guide She. No one could stop her from following her dreams. She asked me how we are going to support ourselves, I replied that she didn't have to worry about it.
She was silent, she had fallen asleep.
Her body leaned against my back. For a moment, I fell asleep too. I accelerate unintentionally, the bike turns to the side. She woke up. Me too, support my foot on the ground and push the bike. It gets straight again. I can feel her heart on my back, mine seems to vibrate my entire body. I would not fall asleep again. The rest of the trip is silent. At about half past four in the morning some cars started to join us on the highway. Fatigue starts to take over me again. She asked if I wanted to change, I asked her if she had already driven a motorcycle. She was quiet. We stopped.
It is an incredible mountain overlooking the sea. We sat on the edge and as she stared the horizon, she started to cry. I ask her why. She asks if I would stop her like everyone else. I reply that I'm not everyone. Was it the wrong answer?
I can't cry.
Now who's going to stop me?
Certain readers do not know how to appreciate a good work. Just like most young people judge the old fisherman.
It was on a hot spring day that he woke up.The snow melting and penetrating the ground thus reaching him.From a small, tight shell he desperately took advantage of every bit of liquid left at his reach.After drinking, he felt too strong and too big for the skin.Soon, he broke it in two and for the first time experienced the light, the wind, and the great mother earth.He wanted more, he wanted to grab the light to scorch the earth and protect himself from the wind.To embrace the earth, he penetrated its roots in it, deep down to the underground rivers, and under the great rocks.To catch every ray of light he encountered, he stretched out its branches and raised its leaves.Over time, he gained a shell to protect himself from the wind.One day, a lumberjack came to the pine forest and fell in love with its long leaves, slender branches, robust trunk, and long roots.The woodcutter started to visit the pine ev
If there's something I don't understand in big cities, this is the night.For most people, this scene looks very natural.
It was a dirty, dark alley.It had no doors, no windows, or led anywhere.
The mountain is called Despair, so why would a man in his right mind climb to the top, where the lost causes live?The mountains are usually cold and dark.
Once upon a time, a long time ago on the island of Kreg, a boy suddenly appeared inside an earl's castle without any guards noticing.The boy did not speak any known language and dressed in an extremely old-fashioned way, even for the time. With the thought that he was an envoy of the gods or a wizard, Count Walford of Kreg raised him as his own son and named him Nabee de Kreg.After a while Nabee was no different than any other boy, if not for the countless stories he had to tell, and that they became true! The most famous of them is also the only one that was not a prophecy, but only a tale about a distant past. It took place in fields of unimaginable beauty and mountains larger than any on earth. It was Theia's magical world. And that was a fairy tale.A fairy the size of a small child with skin as pale as snow, red hair as fire, and green eyes as forests. Dressed in the finest white dress, woven with cobwebs.Born from Theia's warm insides, she came as her messenger, prophet, and me
His skin is white.It looks soft, but it shatters easily.
In the big colorless city many people did not have much money. Boys who were naughty with their parents would end up like the rain boy. It was said that the rain boy had been very bad with his parents and one day his parents left him outside on a stormy day. No one offered shelter to the evil boy. In order not to freeze, the boy moved his arms and legs. Moved throughout the night, but the storm continued throughout the day and no one sheltered him. He continued to move, jump, and shake. Until his arms and legs fell. When his head fell, he also died.