Wow it’s been like a year since I joined Prose. I just remembered this account as I was reading.

Welp, I’m still alive! So yep. Great. I’ve been making youtube videos for the past few days and all.

If anyone would like to check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=icGvgJk1yzw

I'll get back in posting poems and interacting with you guys cOZ ITS BEEN SO LONGGGG

Thanks!

#video #love #poem #emotional #firstpost #youtube #universe #fantasy

Behold! 

Here in my quiet life, 

I've met different kinds of people 

People that inspire, anger or make someone cry 

But, since I observe people 

I've noticed that we are all artists 

We all create art even we do or not know 

These were the products of my profound contemplation 

First, we've got the "artists" 

These folks can bring their imagination 

Come life through the pencil and the paper 

They tell stories, metaphors,  and poems through pictures 

Second, we've got the "photographers"

You can recognize them almost everywhere you go 

Taking pictures of the every moment that they deem precious 

With every photograph they capture are the art that they tell the world 

Third, we've got the "writers" 

Armed with words, they hit you in the heart 

Eloquent, delicate that's how they craft they work 

With every tale they tell; the world and it's folks smile a little 

Fourth, we've got the "dancers" 

Nimble, graceful, mysterious that's who they are 

They allure the folks with their ethereal movements 

Really, with each motion they make tells a different story.

And finally, the "musicians" 

As opposed to the mentioned above 

No words or visuals needed for their narrative, 

Their work needs not sight, but hearing the notes

Well, I may have forgotten some 

But whatever, these are the people I've met 

Various people are artists, expressing themselves 

Painting  their saga in either

 a piece of paper,

movements,

 photograph, 

 canvas, 

or music

...So which one are you? 

A/N: I don't do poetry but when I thought of this I wanted to do it this way so ya excuse my crappy poetry skills lol. 

BUT ANYWAYS YA, This is dedicated to us, artists since Idk I felt the urge to just write about this and words were flowy and some shiz Idk about loloololol. 

Also, no bias in making musicians the last one since before I'm a writer, I'm a musician and I do think they have the hardest way to tell the story (like dancers) coz ya the audience need to be uhm sensitive and all 

So ya. Thanks for indulging me. Have a good day.

I run as fast as I can.

I have no idea where I am, all I know is that I am hungry and my body feels heavy from the strenuous activity I’m doing. Fortunately for me, I am together with my comrades.

I just want to eat and rest. Why did this even happened?

I was just going to work in one fine bright day, then everything changed the moment someone started screaming. I was frightened, I still am though. People are now murdering the one they love; kids defending themselves from their parents; friends abandoning one another.

What happened?

Finally, we caught up with our target. They begin firing the guns they have at us; fortunately for us, we’ve outnumbered them. Soon, they ran out of bullets and huddled together.

I smiled. I am going to eat now.

Before I went to work,

My feet dragged me somewhere

Thus, I walked on the familiar road,

Smiling, our memories flowed

I can’t help but remember

The first date we had on September

I was teasing you about your hair,

All you did was glare

But you have no idea,

I’m falling deeper for you.

It was in this same place,

Where I first met you.

Tears streamed down on my face

As I remember your lifeless eyes

This is also the sidewalk,

Where a vehicle claimed your life.

A hauntingly lonely tune fills the white room. The song resonates within the four walls. It has lyrics but it is in a language that the young girl cannot understand. She glances at the music box that’s been playing the tune for hours.

There, in the middle of the floor is a young girl perhaps in her teens. Her undulating black hair is spread out as she is lying down on the floor. She stares at the ceiling with her lifeless black eyes. If anyone sees her, they would mistake her as a bisque doll with her frilly raspberry dress.

“Are you awake?”

She glances at the radio on top of a table and she recognizes the raspy feminine voice from the other side of the radio.

“…Yes,” She replies timidly.

“Slept well?”

“…Yes,”

“Liar, I’ve been watching you all night.” The feminine voice rages out in a growl and the young girl shivers but kept her monotonous face. “I can’t believe I’ve raised a liar!”

“…I’m sorry,” She blandly says and gets up. The young girl hugs her knees in fear of the woman on the radio.

“You’re forgiven.” The woman immediately changes her tone into a sweet one. “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl.”

“…What is curiosity?”

The woman sighs perhaps in frustration or agitation, the young girl doesn’t know.

“It is a bad feeling,” The woman calmly explains, “If you feel it, then I will hate you forever,”

The young girl widens her eyes and immediately goes to the radio.

“Please, don’t hate me!” She desperately pleads the voice, “How will I know that I’m having this curiosity???”

“That happens when you try to go outside of this white room,”

“I promise, I will stay in this white room,”

“Good. Now turn on the TV,”

The young girl gets up and turns on the widescreen TV. The screen flashes to life and images of soldiers killing one another come to her vision. Sounds of canons and bombs resonate; screams of agony and pain complement the bombings. She watches the whole happenings with her knees trembling in fear. Even though she always watch the same thing every day, she still feels dread welling in her chest.

“The outside world is really ominous, don’t you agree?”

The girl nods, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Every day there are wars happening. No matter where and who you are, they will mercilessly kill you.”

The black-haired girl gulps, her hands trembling as she watches someone taking someone’s head off.

“No one will spare you. And if they see that you’re beautiful, they will rape you,” The woman laughs when the young girl hears tantalizing screams from the television.

“No, no!”

The young girl covers her eyes when she realizes that the girl on screen is being gang-banged by men who are laughing boisterously. She feels her heartbeat racing and her knees wobbling.

“Do you understand now that the outside world is bad?”

“…I do,”

“Good. Read the books,”

The black-haired girl gets up and goes to the bookshelf in the corner. She takes some books and sits on the ground once again. She carefully feels the spine of a violet hard-bound book before opening it. With a timid voice, she begins reading a passage.

“Long, long ago there was a young girl who disobeyed and went outside of the white room. As soon as she went out, she saw the whole world stained in crimson red. Everywhere her eyes trailed, there were corpses. Soldiers shoot everyone they see whether they’re young or old,” The young girl gulps but nonetheless continues.

“The young girl, still having hopes of the outside world, ran away in hopes of seeing the so-called “beautiful sceneries” in this world. However, no matter where she went all she saw was smoke and damaged properties. There was nothing beautiful in the outside world. She hears her stomach rumbling and this was the first time she felt hunger,”

“However, no matter how much she pleaded no stranger gave her food. Her feet also became weary and she longs the comfort of the white room she once hated. The girl decided to go back, but no matter what path she takes she simply cannot find it,”

“And now, she’s standing in the middle of an unknown city, completely regretting the choices she made. She cried and cried but no one came and saved her. That is until someone shot her and she died on the spot with bitter regrets,”

The young girl finishes reading and hears the woman clapping by her magnificent reading skills.

“Do you understand what this means?” The woman asks, perhaps a smile gracing her lips.

“I understand that the outside world is very cruel and the only safe place is this white room,”

“Very good! Now, read the other book,”

Obediently, the young girl reaches out for another book and carefully opens it. She clears her throat and once again read it out loud in a bland, monotonous voice.

“The white room is the heaven of men. It comprises of things that we only need. In here, men can achieve the peace and solitude it needs. There will be no fighting and bloodshed as long as they follow the voice on the radio,”

“The white room is peace. It shields us from the abominable world outside us. It is something that will help everyone grow and be educated. Yes, the white room is where we all should be. However, even though it is for men, few can only enter and remain here,”

“Why? It is because the white room is only for the obedient ones. It doesn’t take disobedient men. The white room is a sacred room only for deserving people,”

“Now what will you do for the rest of your life?”

“Stay in this room forever because the white room is what gives me solitude,”

“Very good. Continue reading those books and we’ll talk again tomorrow,”

The very next day, or perhaps it was night, the young girl doesn’t know. There she is, reading a book that tells about how men will lie and steal for their own gain. Disturbing her peace, the door to the outside world flung open.

She widens her eyes, curious thoughts fill up her mind. She looks at the radio and she expected the feminine voice, but no one spoke. The young girl stares at the opened door and this is the first time she doesn’t know what to do.

She closes the book, still staring at the door; she gets up and walks toward it.

She questions about the books she read and begins to imagine what the lies beyond this white room. A smile creeps in her features when she realizes that she’s going to be free.

Freedom is within her grasp and all she needs is to walk outside of the white room. As with every step closer to the door, she thought of the possibilities, the people she might encounter, or what she looks like.

All throughout her life, she doesn’t even know her name. Hell, she doesn’t even know the prospect of having a name. The young girl wants to understand what the different emotions are or what does curiosity even means. Furthermore, the young girl also wants to know who the person on the radio is.

Yes…everything will be answered if she walked out of door. And finally, she’s standing near the doorframe and excitement and curiosity fills up her chest. The young girl smiles of the thought of adventure.

And then she closes the door and resumes reading her book.

A/n: This was an assignment but I really liked this so I thought of sharing it to y'all 

I saw her today. 

There she is, tending the flowers in her shop. With a radiant smile, she greets the people passing by. Kids run and almost bump into her. She scolds them with a cheery smile and the kids apologizes. I can feel my heart beating loudly every time she smiles. I gulp and blushes madly. Here I am, sipping coffee from a café across the street, ogling at the woman I love.

But then, my face fell when I remembered something. Frowning, I look at the notebook I have in hand and sigh. 

"1 minute," I mutter under my breath. 

Summoning all of my strength, I decided to walk towards her. 

"Oh, I always see you here!" The woman chirps to me, "Are you looking flowers for your girlfriend?" My heart quickens it beat, words faltering me as I can't believe I'm finally talking to her. What's more, I can't focus especially if her voice is sweet as a candy.

I shrug but still keep my friendly smile, "Not really, I just came here to tell you I love you," I turn my back, but not before sparing her one last glance, "It was nice knowing you, hope you have a peaceful death," I tell her bitterly. I can feel my whole world crashing down. I hate this. 

With that, I walk away and the woman is surely dumbfounded. I check my watch. 

"10..." 

"Hey, I don't even know who you are!" She yells at me. She's possibly blushing and twirling her brown locks. I squeeze my eyes and begin the countdown in my head. 

"5..." 

"I think you're also handsome, we should get some coffee sometime!" I wave my hand in response. Oh how I wish I could run to you and prevent your death, but I can't. My hands tremble in anger and I ruffle my black hair to compose myself. 

"3..." 

I turn back to her, tears in my eyes and say, "Yeah, that'd be cool. How about tomorrow?" 

"Yeah!" 

"1..." 

What a liar I am. 

At once, the woman falls flat to the pavement. The bouquet in her hand comes rolling in her hand and people nearby gasp. I stop, my hands still shaking and my heart aching.

"Jean Lockhart, died of a heart attack," I mutter bitterly before signing into my notebook. I disappear from the scene to move on to my next target. I keep my loneliness and anguish buried in my heart. I have to perform my duty. 

Being the god of death is never fun especially if you fell in love with someone. 

Hire me or die in an "accident".

PS: I do know where you live, your connections, the moves you're likely to do, and your escape routes. 

PPS: Hiding the bodies and clearing all evidences are my specialty. 

PPPS: You should acquiesce before a bomb blows up. 

PPPPS: Can you hear the bomb ticking? 

--Ethereal 

In a far, far away forest where trees are tall as skyscrapers and flowers that bloom in winter, there lived a young fairy who is ethereal in sight. She has long blond flowing hair that is decorated with pink flowers; she treads the Earth with her bare feet with gentle and grace. The lovely fairy is known for her elegance and beauty that men would visit her on a fine, sunny day. She would give them a warm welcome; a warm smile that can even warm the coldest being. And men would instantly worship her with an unquestionable obedience. 

One day, a handsome hunter ventures into the forest to search for a rare fox. He comes gallantry and swift as the coursing river. He would leap in trees with his daring yet graceful movements; monkeys and birds were no matched by his skill. The young fairy, of course, noticed the hunter and has instantly become fascinated with him. Thus, she follows him secretly. She would be in awe whenever the hunter would dodge the ferocious attacks of the boar or how he would climb up tall trees to know where he is. 

Ah, she's been helplessly fascinated by him. And so the young fairy waits. She waits and waits for a chance that she could approach him. 

After several hours, the young hunter decides to rest near still waters. He leans on a big tree, catching up his breath from exhaustion. The fairy then sees this as an opportunity to show herself. 

"My, a traveler," She says in a calm voice as she appears, sitting on a branch of a tree just across him. The hunter widens his eyes; his exhaustion immediately fades like a popped bubble. 

The fairy laughs and jumps off the tree; her eyes twinkle with mischief as she takes steps towards him. The hunter immediately stands up, his eyes darting in one place to another--his confidence diminished. 

"I..uh," He stumbles, words unable to flow,

"Don't be afraid, traveler," The fairy is now in front of him, smiling. 

"Forgive me m'lady for my manners," He laughs awkwardly and bows in a stilted manner. 

"You must be famished, come," She turns her back away from him and the hunter follows the fairy, like a person on a spell. 

They walk and walk through the forest; the hunter not knowing where they are going. However, he does not question her. On the contrary, he is in high spirits as he will finally be with the fairy that he has fallen in love a few minutes ago. 

The sky turns bleak; mist surrounds them and the path becomes filled with thorns and other ghastly things. The smell of death fills the atmosphere and there is no sign of life, just death. However, the hunter does not care as he just wants to follow the young fairy no matter where she goes. 

Even if he's being led to his death. 

Me: Hey can you tell me the chorus of "All of me"? 

Crush: 'Cause all of me; loves all of you

Me: Yes, I love you too! 

Crush: 

Song: 

People: 

Ed Sheeran: