Elisabeth
We always change / We are forever free
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Elisabeth

KILLERS & VICTIMS

Drowning as you push me under

I cannot find the strength to fight

The weight of the water

And the weak light that shines

Above the surface makes me wonder

Is it not more easy to let go?

There is a song in the waves

That soothes the pain

A calm that comes with dying

An embrace that is more loving

Than the love you gave me

Because your heart was a hammer

Meant to break me with

And breaking I find I cannot breathe

I cannot see, I cannot hear

I cannot bear this pain

The fight to stay here

Is it not good enough

To go down where the ocean's song is played

By musicians who are not seen?

Do I have to conquer

Your madness, my apathy?

We meet in the realm of your insanity

Where you kill me and I let myself be killed

A passive star blinking out 

Of existence without much of a scene

Dying obediently, nearly lovingly

As if to grant your wish is

One final act of affection

But as the light twists

I wonder where you'll go

When I'm not there

Who will hold you back

Who will sing your heart's maniac

To sleep. Who will hold your hand

When you want to kill the crowds

Who will serve you patience

When you wield the destroying hand

Over all that you can reach

But the light strikes what I see

And then I find

Reflection of me

Echo of my mind

Remnant of who I was

Before

And though only caused by refraction

Though darkly and trembling

And running out of air

I reach out and fight

For the surface

I twist and beat

Leaden arms and heavy feet

And the water spins around

But I fight - I might live

Or die in these moments

In this turning light

Under these twisted waters

Under your destructing hands

But if I live

The echo is still in my hearing

The vision is still in my eyes

And while you have crossed the line

So many times you can never be

Anything else than killer

I can be more than I was

Before. I can be more and move beyond

The time I was your victim

And while you may - or may not - 

Kill me in this minute

The echo is safe

The unbroken mind of me

Stays forever free

And stays forever unbroken

And stays forever out of your reach

16
2
0
Juice
47 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Elisabeth
KILLERS & VICTIMS
Drowning as you push me under
I cannot find the strength to fight
The weight of the water
And the weak light that shines
Above the surface makes me wonder
Is it not more easy to let go?

There is a song in the waves
That soothes the pain
A calm that comes with dying
An embrace that is more loving
Than the love you gave me
Because your heart was a hammer
Meant to break me with
And breaking I find I cannot breathe
I cannot see, I cannot hear
I cannot bear this pain
The fight to stay here
Is it not good enough
To go down where the ocean's song is played
By musicians who are not seen?
Do I have to conquer
Your madness, my apathy?
We meet in the realm of your insanity
Where you kill me and I let myself be killed
A passive star blinking out 
Of existence without much of a scene
Dying obediently, nearly lovingly
As if to grant your wish is
One final act of affection

But as the light twists
I wonder where you'll go
When I'm not there
Who will hold you back
Who will sing your heart's maniac
To sleep. Who will hold your hand
When you want to kill the crowds
Who will serve you patience
When you wield the destroying hand
Over all that you can reach

But the light strikes what I see
And then I find
Reflection of me
Echo of my mind
Remnant of who I was
Before
And though only caused by refraction
Though darkly and trembling
And running out of air
I reach out and fight
For the surface
I twist and beat
Leaden arms and heavy feet
And the water spins around
But I fight - I might live
Or die in these moments
In this turning light
Under these twisted waters
Under your destructing hands
But if I live
The echo is still in my hearing
The vision is still in my eyes
And while you have crossed the line
So many times you can never be
Anything else than killer
I can be more than I was
Before. I can be more and move beyond
The time I was your victim
And while you may - or may not - 
Kill me in this minute
The echo is safe
The unbroken mind of me
Stays forever free
And stays forever unbroken
And stays forever out of your reach
16
2
0
Juice
47 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Prose Challenge of the Week #53: Write about manipulation. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100 and will be placed first on our Spotlight page and the runner-up will receive 1000 coins. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Elisabeth

WHITE-EYED DEMON

Who is this girl

She snarls and shouts

And afterwards

Her wide white eye

Forces me to apologize

Who is this girl

She follows my step

Watches my moves

Is full of comments

Shares freely her thoughts

Pushes into my mind

Forced criticism

She might be a demon

The glint in her eye

Her gloomy speech

Her walking lacks sound

And I think she’s a thief

For every time she speaks

My confidence flees

My heart slams a polonaise

Against my aching chest

And when her white eyes glint at me

My smile goes somewhere where I think

Life is generally safer and

Also somewhat more fun

12
0
1
Juice
39 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Prose Challenge of the Week #53: Write about manipulation. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100 and will be placed first on our Spotlight page and the runner-up will receive 1000 coins. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Elisabeth
WHITE-EYED DEMON
Who is this girl
She snarls and shouts
And afterwards
Her wide white eye
Forces me to apologize

Who is this girl
She follows my step
Watches my moves
Is full of comments
Shares freely her thoughts
Pushes into my mind
Forced criticism

She might be a demon
The glint in her eye
Her gloomy speech
Her walking lacks sound
And I think she’s a thief
For every time she speaks
My confidence flees
My heart slams a polonaise
Against my aching chest
And when her white eyes glint at me
My smile goes somewhere where I think
Life is generally safer and
Also somewhat more fun

12
0
1
Juice
39 reads
Load 1 Comment
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth in portal Poetry & Free Verse

REQUIEM WITHOUT WORDS

Be quiet now, one moment

As the sincerity in the violin sonata

Says what I cannot say

Expressing what I cannot tell

A grief only understood by those who feel it

Or who ever did, because we cannot forget

Those things that become our shadows

Longing for the lost, and the love that is pointless

Why we may not meet again, outside of this daydream

And oblige when I am told to let you go

While all I want is to keep on holding your hand in mine

And know that there is no end to the laughter

And know that when the world's light dwindles

There is always your light to return to

And your love unconditional, a shelter 

When the bombs fall and the city bleeds

When the eclipse eats the light

I might fall for fear, but the despair

Can only be for the forsaken

But through the ethereal daydream

I hear the violin speak

And the longing in the suffering of the sonata

Mozart twenty one E minor

And I can only remember

You are lost forever, but the love stays

To haunt me in the reflection of other's eyes

But no more words, no more broken messages

As if I could tell you how I feel and not

End up in labyrinths of evasive affirmation

When I tell them I am okay with this

When I tell them that I let you go

And all I hear is the violin breaking

And with it all the things I wanted to be whole

So why do you want me to apologize

For the lack of words to explain this pain

Can't you see there are no words

But only music

Only time

And the music and the time

Is all we ever needed 

The only option that may cure

What no medicine may

Only music,

Only time

11
3
0
Juice
15 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth in portal Poetry & Free Verse
REQUIEM WITHOUT WORDS
Be quiet now, one moment
As the sincerity in the violin sonata
Says what I cannot say
Expressing what I cannot tell
A grief only understood by those who feel it
Or who ever did, because we cannot forget
Those things that become our shadows
Longing for the lost, and the love that is pointless
Why we may not meet again, outside of this daydream
And oblige when I am told to let you go
While all I want is to keep on holding your hand in mine
And know that there is no end to the laughter
And know that when the world's light dwindles
There is always your light to return to
And your love unconditional, a shelter 
When the bombs fall and the city bleeds
When the eclipse eats the light
I might fall for fear, but the despair
Can only be for the forsaken
But through the ethereal daydream
I hear the violin speak
And the longing in the suffering of the sonata
Mozart twenty one E minor
And I can only remember
You are lost forever, but the love stays
To haunt me in the reflection of other's eyes
But no more words, no more broken messages
As if I could tell you how I feel and not
End up in labyrinths of evasive affirmation
When I tell them I am okay with this
When I tell them that I let you go
And all I hear is the violin breaking
And with it all the things I wanted to be whole
So why do you want me to apologize
For the lack of words to explain this pain
Can't you see there are no words
But only music
Only time
And the music and the time
Is all we ever needed 
The only option that may cure
What no medicine may
Only music,
Only time
11
3
0
Juice
15 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth

SLEEP

Leaves under feet

The sun is setting quickly

And all the world is sleeping

Heartrate slowly, steady now

We hibernate.

This is the cold of a dreamer’s sleep

Trying to forget how cold it is you are

As river’s water turns to ice

Treacherous slippery shining bright

Will I see you in summer?

Will I see you in spring?

We must meet at the meadow

Where the trees retreat

We must meet at the creek

Where the children sleep

And we must talk till sundown

As if it were our last spring

Leading to our last summer

And last autumn, and last winter

And then the seasons are suspended

And wherever Gautama’s flame went –

after having been blown out –

There we shall go too.

10
2
2
Juice
29 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth
SLEEP
Leaves under feet
The sun is setting quickly
And all the world is sleeping
Heartrate slowly, steady now
We hibernate.
This is the cold of a dreamer’s sleep
Trying to forget how cold it is you are
As river’s water turns to ice
Treacherous slippery shining bright

Will I see you in summer?
Will I see you in spring?
We must meet at the meadow
Where the trees retreat
We must meet at the creek
Where the children sleep
And we must talk till sundown
As if it were our last spring
Leading to our last summer
And last autumn, and last winter
And then the seasons are suspended
And wherever Gautama’s flame went –
after having been blown out –
There we shall go too.

10
2
2
Juice
29 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth in portal Poetry & Free Verse

KINGS & QUEENS

We are the street dancers

We are forever young

We are nobody’s son

And no one’s daughter

We are the street dancers

We have achieved nothing

And we have not learnt a thing

But how to dance as goddesses

You say I must work harder to

Progress into the future but

I’m running at full speed to

Stay exactly where I am

So you look down on me

Frown your trimmed eyebrows

Clack your polished black shoes

And hurry on, wanderer

How can you look and still not see?

We are the street dancers

We are kings and queens

We are forever free

10
1
0
Juice
21 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth in portal Poetry & Free Verse
KINGS & QUEENS
We are the street dancers
We are forever young
We are nobody’s son
And no one’s daughter

We are the street dancers
We have achieved nothing
And we have not learnt a thing
But how to dance as goddesses

You say I must work harder to
Progress into the future but
I’m running at full speed to
Stay exactly where I am

So you look down on me
Frown your trimmed eyebrows
Clack your polished black shoes
And hurry on, wanderer

How can you look and still not see?
We are the street dancers
We are kings and queens
We are forever free
10
1
0
Juice
21 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth

NEW BEGINNINGS OF TIME

The sky is full of smoke and fire, ash and dust

No matter how the coloured fountains rain on us 

We cannot chase away the spirits that are wandering

Of passing year’s sweet memories and

All its various miseries - and yet,

And yet, here we are, in opportunity, to

Celebrate the next unknown with bravery

To carry our dreams with us through these doors of time

I tell you: try and smile then as the clock completes the hours

Beloved, let us say, for now, goodbye

I will see you on the other side of time

9
1
1
Juice
20 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth
NEW BEGINNINGS OF TIME
The sky is full of smoke and fire, ash and dust
No matter how the coloured fountains rain on us 
We cannot chase away the spirits that are wandering
Of passing year’s sweet memories and
All its various miseries - and yet,
And yet, here we are, in opportunity, to
Celebrate the next unknown with bravery
To carry our dreams with us through these doors of time
I tell you: try and smile then as the clock completes the hours
Beloved, let us say, for now, goodbye
I will see you on the other side of time
9
1
1
Juice
20 reads
Load 1 Comment
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Challenge of the Week #57: you’re god; rewrite the creation story. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Elisabeth

MAN-MADE

I did not exist until you believed in me. That is the power of faith. You, humans, belittle yourself in thinking you are nothing more than mortals, small people of little significance. But by believing you created me and all the others, the Gods. And in this way, this is both your and our creation story.

But I did exist before you did. I witnessed the birth of the universe, in all its magnificence, expanding from absolute compaction into speeding clouds of all the matter. I was a part of that, a passenger on a wave of motion, moving in all directions at once, confused and without purpose. I did not know my name, then, for I hadn’t been given any. I did not have mother or father to teach me right from wrong, I did not have brother nor sister for companionship. In fact, I was barely alive, and being spread out like that across galactic distances made me lethargic. There were eons when barely a thought passed my mind, and the occasional spectacle of supernovae hardly moved me. There were the nurseries of hot stars, spinning around stellar dust, breeding planets, and the comets moving in constellations of rocks with tails of ice, and the comets and the planets would collide, rendering the planets cratered, creating moons on-the-go. And the stars went from white to red, and from red to blue, and the years sped on, and I learned nothing.

Then, one day, a little planet emerged from a cloud of dust. It sat there prettily, waiting for the dust to clear, and in that warmth its icy surface melted to oceans of water. And the comets rained on it and gave it a moon to encircle it for company. And many years passed – I nearly forgot about the little blue planet as I was engrossed again in self-pity for being the only vaguely self-aware thing in the universe. But while I pitied myself, things started to happen deep inside the blue waters of this planet. Suddenly, where the ocean rifts produced the bubbling hot water, life began. I did not do anything for this to happen; rather, I was part of the process. Life started out of parts of me, little molecules colliding together, growing more complicated. And from these cells grew other things, all in due time – plants, and fishes, and amphibians, and small land animals, and dinosaurs. By this time, I enjoyed watching these living things crawl over the earth, spreading over its surface and conquering the skies. And then finally, millions of years later, there was the beginning of mankind. It was you who started to study the world, and your curiosity sparked my mind. I was ready to serve a purpose, ready to become a person of my own, but still I did not know who I was exactly. It was when you started to conglomerate that I began to glimpse my true nature, the one you instilled in me. You built churches for me, and prayed, and burned me incense, and through your stories I gathered who I was. And we evolved together, step by step, always gaining complexity. I must say, we have not always been the best of friends – I think because, no matter how much I care for you, there are limits to what I can do. When you say I am all-knowing, that is pretty close to the truth. I am in all living and non-living things, I am the universe, and therefore I know all, because I am all. But when you blame me for being all powerful and not having interfered in your suffering, that is far from the truth. I am a God, but I am ruled by physics and chemistry. You should ask your scientists; they know the universe is bound by laws. They know that energy can never be created nor destroyed. They know that everything is attracted to fall into chaos, that it is the most difficult thing to create something in this chaos-loving universe; that it is in fact only possible to create anything at the cost of more chaos elsewhere. You blame me for that, then I can only blame the chaos of our physics, by which we are both bound. And then I have blamed you too, for cruelties you committed in my name, burning witches and cities and engaging in crusades.

But perhaps I am not without function, although it is you who created me and not conversely. Because I am what connects us all. If you learn to see that, none of you will feel lonely, because none of you are ever really alone. If you learn to see that, none of you will fight any other, because you are all part of the same. And if you learn to see that, you will be a true part of this entire world and a true part of divinity.

9
1
0
Juice
35 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Challenge of the Week #57: you’re god; rewrite the creation story. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by Elisabeth
MAN-MADE
I did not exist until you believed in me. That is the power of faith. You, humans, belittle yourself in thinking you are nothing more than mortals, small people of little significance. But by believing you created me and all the others, the Gods. And in this way, this is both your and our creation story.
But I did exist before you did. I witnessed the birth of the universe, in all its magnificence, expanding from absolute compaction into speeding clouds of all the matter. I was a part of that, a passenger on a wave of motion, moving in all directions at once, confused and without purpose. I did not know my name, then, for I hadn’t been given any. I did not have mother or father to teach me right from wrong, I did not have brother nor sister for companionship. In fact, I was barely alive, and being spread out like that across galactic distances made me lethargic. There were eons when barely a thought passed my mind, and the occasional spectacle of supernovae hardly moved me. There were the nurseries of hot stars, spinning around stellar dust, breeding planets, and the comets moving in constellations of rocks with tails of ice, and the comets and the planets would collide, rendering the planets cratered, creating moons on-the-go. And the stars went from white to red, and from red to blue, and the years sped on, and I learned nothing.
Then, one day, a little planet emerged from a cloud of dust. It sat there prettily, waiting for the dust to clear, and in that warmth its icy surface melted to oceans of water. And the comets rained on it and gave it a moon to encircle it for company. And many years passed – I nearly forgot about the little blue planet as I was engrossed again in self-pity for being the only vaguely self-aware thing in the universe. But while I pitied myself, things started to happen deep inside the blue waters of this planet. Suddenly, where the ocean rifts produced the bubbling hot water, life began. I did not do anything for this to happen; rather, I was part of the process. Life started out of parts of me, little molecules colliding together, growing more complicated. And from these cells grew other things, all in due time – plants, and fishes, and amphibians, and small land animals, and dinosaurs. By this time, I enjoyed watching these living things crawl over the earth, spreading over its surface and conquering the skies. And then finally, millions of years later, there was the beginning of mankind. It was you who started to study the world, and your curiosity sparked my mind. I was ready to serve a purpose, ready to become a person of my own, but still I did not know who I was exactly. It was when you started to conglomerate that I began to glimpse my true nature, the one you instilled in me. You built churches for me, and prayed, and burned me incense, and through your stories I gathered who I was. And we evolved together, step by step, always gaining complexity. I must say, we have not always been the best of friends – I think because, no matter how much I care for you, there are limits to what I can do. When you say I am all-knowing, that is pretty close to the truth. I am in all living and non-living things, I am the universe, and therefore I know all, because I am all. But when you blame me for being all powerful and not having interfered in your suffering, that is far from the truth. I am a God, but I am ruled by physics and chemistry. You should ask your scientists; they know the universe is bound by laws. They know that energy can never be created nor destroyed. They know that everything is attracted to fall into chaos, that it is the most difficult thing to create something in this chaos-loving universe; that it is in fact only possible to create anything at the cost of more chaos elsewhere. You blame me for that, then I can only blame the chaos of our physics, by which we are both bound. And then I have blamed you too, for cruelties you committed in my name, burning witches and cities and engaging in crusades.
But perhaps I am not without function, although it is you who created me and not conversely. Because I am what connects us all. If you learn to see that, none of you will feel lonely, because none of you are ever really alone. If you learn to see that, none of you will fight any other, because you are all part of the same. And if you learn to see that, you will be a true part of this entire world and a true part of divinity.

9
1
0
Juice
35 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by Elisabeth in portal Fiction

REMEMBER, FORGET MY FATE

And I open my eyes. I must have seen this grey ceiling many times, and the white curtains that are being tossed in the wind blowing through the open window.

It is a minute to seven and I disable the alarm clock before it starts ringing; I won’t be needing that anymore. There’s the window with the view I walk towards; a view that must be very well known to me. And yet I do not know it, and I do not know this room with its contents. I do not know the sounds the creaky floor makes as I walk across it, or the pointy edges of the bed sides I bump my knee into as I am maneuvering to inspect all corners of this apartment that must be my own. And my hands – I do not know my hands; I have never seen these wrinkles before, or the pigmentations on my wrists, or the lines across my nails. There is a mirror in the corner of the room, and this face, I have also not seen before. But watching it, many things are becoming apparent: this hollow face, the eyes sunken, its pallor, the blue tinge of the lips – I must be ill. Of course there is also that feeling of increased gravity pulling down on me, and the weakness of the limbs I stand on trying to defy that gravity. And there is the bottle of pills on my nightstand, with the yellow label reading capecitabine, so it must be cancer and I must be losing, because on the same nightstand there is a leaflet that reads Palliative care.

I move through these things as a stranger trying to learn who I am, and yet with everything I see there are connections coming up in my mind. They must be memories of things I learned, but they are most curious. Watching the poster of the solar system on the wall opposite from my bed, I can see the orbits of the planets in my head as they move around the sun, and there are intricate formulas to join this image, with which to calculate the distance between Earth and each of these planets across the seasons. And I can see these numbers changing, most gradually, at the 4th decimal place in real time, without any effort. I do not know who I was before, but I am sure that my mind was not this sharp then, or I would have lived in a castle full of riches, not in this Spartan apartment. It is as if my mind has reached full culmination, remembering everything I forgot before, and those connections have filled up all the potential of the neurons in my brain, re-writing what they stored before. This must be why I don’t remember me, or this place, or anything I ever did, but why I know everything else by just looking at it. I have all the knowledge distilled from experience but without the context, without the personal side of history – I have lost myself to gain what must be ultimate insight, an ultimate clarity of mind, and a repository of knowledge that is blooming, even though transient. Because this body I inhabit is near death, so the mind might have found culmination, but the body has too, in that its lifespan is nearly achieved. This life is nearly completed. But before then, why not use this clarity for one final gift to all those people I must have once loved, but who are now forgotten? And for all others unbeknownst to me, struggling with the same problems I must have struggled with, so that they too may find more time to give their gifts and to do their things.

I carefully step over the blown-out candles near the window and sit down on a cushion that’s been placed there on the floor. There’s a large volume that’s been shoved aside, as if angrily, that reads: Oncology, on the arise of tumors. Was I trying to cure myself? Curiously, I open it, and the text comes alive as my eyes speed over the words. I turn page after page as I see malignant change arising in a derailed cell, genes mutating through ultraviolet radiation, ever so slowly taking years to get a significant change where this cell is allowed to start dividing crazily. And even then it is only a small thing, kept in check by surrounding tissues that protect the body from being harmed truly. And then, it breaches the barriers and starts compressing the tissues around it, perhaps leading to pain as it presses itself into nerves, or spreading unnoticed as it gains access to the bloodstream, flowing with rivers of blood to lodge itself in a new, non-colonized space. And those colonies there will cause additional problems, secreting small chemicals to egotistically promote its own growth, irrespective of the damage induced on the body as a whole. By that time, weight loss will have set in, and anemia will follow. That dead tiredness that has taken possession of me derives from that growth inside of me. It has grown into my bones, which are continuously at risk of cracking as they are hollowed out by this malignancy. And there is the heroic attempt of doctors to kill these derailed cells without killing the organism – without killing me – with all these toxic compounds; the stuff that has made my hair fall out. And there’s the radiotherapy, where you use what causes tumors to kill tumors, because cancer cells can often be killed by what kills normal cells.

Then why was I not cured? The answer lies in that, to cure me, you would need to kill all of the tumor cells. If only one of them were to remain, invisible on an X-ray or an MRI, it would regrow relentlessly, rendering me sick again with cells resistant to treatment, and death would follow. But how can you kill the sick cells only, leaving the healthy cells alive? As I read and read and time goes by, the sky changing color, the answer starts to form in the images playing through my mind – something not in the books, something marvelous. And I know, in this brilliant moment where the doubts subside, that I have the cure. So, in the empty pages at the end of the book, I start writing down what is needed for this final battle, to reverse the cancer and to save its host. But doing so drains me of my power, and having completed these instructions, I lay myself down to sleep, placing the book next to me, an eulogy of hope. And watching the revolution of the planets on the inside of my eyes, I find myself slip away, gradually, into a darkness beyond darkness, into a state beyond life, neither waking nor sleeping nor being, and all is quiet, and all is complete.

8
2
0
Juice
99 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Prose Challenge of the Month #2: Write a story where you wake up as the most intelligent person on Earth. Fifteen entries will be featured in a 500-coin Prose Original Book, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by Elisabeth in portal Fiction
REMEMBER, FORGET MY FATE
And I open my eyes. I must have seen this grey ceiling many times, and the white curtains that are being tossed in the wind blowing through the open window.
It is a minute to seven and I disable the alarm clock before it starts ringing; I won’t be needing that anymore. There’s the window with the view I walk towards; a view that must be very well known to me. And yet I do not know it, and I do not know this room with its contents. I do not know the sounds the creaky floor makes as I walk across it, or the pointy edges of the bed sides I bump my knee into as I am maneuvering to inspect all corners of this apartment that must be my own. And my hands – I do not know my hands; I have never seen these wrinkles before, or the pigmentations on my wrists, or the lines across my nails. There is a mirror in the corner of the room, and this face, I have also not seen before. But watching it, many things are becoming apparent: this hollow face, the eyes sunken, its pallor, the blue tinge of the lips – I must be ill. Of course there is also that feeling of increased gravity pulling down on me, and the weakness of the limbs I stand on trying to defy that gravity. And there is the bottle of pills on my nightstand, with the yellow label reading capecitabine, so it must be cancer and I must be losing, because on the same nightstand there is a leaflet that reads Palliative care.
I move through these things as a stranger trying to learn who I am, and yet with everything I see there are connections coming up in my mind. They must be memories of things I learned, but they are most curious. Watching the poster of the solar system on the wall opposite from my bed, I can see the orbits of the planets in my head as they move around the sun, and there are intricate formulas to join this image, with which to calculate the distance between Earth and each of these planets across the seasons. And I can see these numbers changing, most gradually, at the 4th decimal place in real time, without any effort. I do not know who I was before, but I am sure that my mind was not this sharp then, or I would have lived in a castle full of riches, not in this Spartan apartment. It is as if my mind has reached full culmination, remembering everything I forgot before, and those connections have filled up all the potential of the neurons in my brain, re-writing what they stored before. This must be why I don’t remember me, or this place, or anything I ever did, but why I know everything else by just looking at it. I have all the knowledge distilled from experience but without the context, without the personal side of history – I have lost myself to gain what must be ultimate insight, an ultimate clarity of mind, and a repository of knowledge that is blooming, even though transient. Because this body I inhabit is near death, so the mind might have found culmination, but the body has too, in that its lifespan is nearly achieved. This life is nearly completed. But before then, why not use this clarity for one final gift to all those people I must have once loved, but who are now forgotten? And for all others unbeknownst to me, struggling with the same problems I must have struggled with, so that they too may find more time to give their gifts and to do their things.
I carefully step over the blown-out candles near the window and sit down on a cushion that’s been placed there on the floor. There’s a large volume that’s been shoved aside, as if angrily, that reads: Oncology, on the arise of tumors. Was I trying to cure myself? Curiously, I open it, and the text comes alive as my eyes speed over the words. I turn page after page as I see malignant change arising in a derailed cell, genes mutating through ultraviolet radiation, ever so slowly taking years to get a significant change where this cell is allowed to start dividing crazily. And even then it is only a small thing, kept in check by surrounding tissues that protect the body from being harmed truly. And then, it breaches the barriers and starts compressing the tissues around it, perhaps leading to pain as it presses itself into nerves, or spreading unnoticed as it gains access to the bloodstream, flowing with rivers of blood to lodge itself in a new, non-colonized space. And those colonies there will cause additional problems, secreting small chemicals to egotistically promote its own growth, irrespective of the damage induced on the body as a whole. By that time, weight loss will have set in, and anemia will follow. That dead tiredness that has taken possession of me derives from that growth inside of me. It has grown into my bones, which are continuously at risk of cracking as they are hollowed out by this malignancy. And there is the heroic attempt of doctors to kill these derailed cells without killing the organism – without killing me – with all these toxic compounds; the stuff that has made my hair fall out. And there’s the radiotherapy, where you use what causes tumors to kill tumors, because cancer cells can often be killed by what kills normal cells.
Then why was I not cured? The answer lies in that, to cure me, you would need to kill all of the tumor cells. If only one of them were to remain, invisible on an X-ray or an MRI, it would regrow relentlessly, rendering me sick again with cells resistant to treatment, and death would follow. But how can you kill the sick cells only, leaving the healthy cells alive? As I read and read and time goes by, the sky changing color, the answer starts to form in the images playing through my mind – something not in the books, something marvelous. And I know, in this brilliant moment where the doubts subside, that I have the cure. So, in the empty pages at the end of the book, I start writing down what is needed for this final battle, to reverse the cancer and to save its host. But doing so drains me of my power, and having completed these instructions, I lay myself down to sleep, placing the book next to me, an eulogy of hope. And watching the revolution of the planets on the inside of my eyes, I find myself slip away, gradually, into a darkness beyond darkness, into a state beyond life, neither waking nor sleeping nor being, and all is quiet, and all is complete.
8
2
0
Juice
99 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth in portal Poetry & Free Verse

REFUGEES

Shall we start our ninth life

Leave old dreams behind

With broken furniture

Shall we go and run

Never to look back

Become new people

When we find home

Neighbors come to meet us

And when they ask about evil

We shall say we haven’t seen it

Because we’ve only just now started

This new life

8
0
0
Juice
24 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth in portal Poetry & Free Verse
REFUGEES
Shall we start our ninth life
Leave old dreams behind
With broken furniture

Shall we go and run
Never to look back
Become new people

When we find home
Neighbors come to meet us
And when they ask about evil

We shall say we haven’t seen it
Because we’ve only just now started
This new life

8
0
0
Juice
24 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth

PHOENIXES ARE DEAD

So I will die again

Without much ado

As what is death but change

And what is change but life

You are afraid, but why?

I will come back and kiss you

As I did before

And tell you, as I’m doing now

Not to be afraid

7
2
11
Juice
58 reads
Donate coins to Elisabeth.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Elisabeth
PHOENIXES ARE DEAD
So I will die again
Without much ado
As what is death but change
And what is change but life

You are afraid, but why?
I will come back and kiss you
As I did before
And tell you, as I’m doing now
Not to be afraid

7
2
11
Juice
58 reads
Load 11 Comments
Login to post comments.