30 days writing challenge.

Title: Have mercy.

Prompt: Gashadokuro(prompt given by Heppie Leo)

#30dayswritingchallenge.

Day:4

Within the cryptic wilderness,

Dwells an enigmatic creature known for its dauntlessness,

Under the Illuminati lunar embrace,

It fetches its preys.

With it scythe, it slays.

"Have mercy, ye lord Gashadokuro," Its victims prays.

Coming out to play during a mysterious night.

Piercing sinister hearts with its eerie eyes.

It feeds on dread, nibbles on fright.

Once into the wilderness, ye shall never alight.

"HAVE MERCY, YE LORD GASHADOKURO,"

Have mercy.

©Heppie Leo

Jasmine wept bitterly as she watched the masculine figure pace upon her with shallow breathes while she was with loud screams but no one could hear her.

He took her against her will brutally like he would never have a daughter; he didn't think about how he would feel if a man like him raped his daughter like he was doing to her.

She was helpless, the more she fought, the more slaps that landed on her cheeks. it seemed like he wouldn't stop, was he going to rape her forever? Was this how he was going to take her virginity? her pride, her ego, her dignity. He was proud and delighted to take an innocent girl's pride and delight.

How guilty will he feel after doing this?

He finally finished and got off her, he didn't even bother to apologize, he just left without turning to look at her face.

Jasmine curled into a ball as she hugged her knees and cried blurting out her late Mother's name repeatedly like a chant, asking for justice and revenge, but there was no response, the only response she got was the echo returning her chants and cries back to her. Her heart throbbed in pain as there was no one to fight for her, not even the echo.

it was a really dejecting experience.

IMAGINE A MAN RAPING YOUR OWN DAUGHTER OR SISTER...AWFUL RIGHT?

THEN SAY NO TO RAPING.

YOU'RE NOT JUST HURTING US PHYSICALLY, YOU'RE LEAVING US AN EMOTIONAL SCAR THAT WILL FOREVER BE.

I am something....

I am someone.....

I am what I am.

This is who I am.

I'm not without flaws.

Yet, I still fall.

I am someone who has been to hell of criticism.

I am emotionally drained but I heal in a few season.

I'm not okay but I still smile.

I think of giving up but I say "it's alright".

That's my way of life.

I get annoyed at myself for no valid reason.

Inspiration keeps seizing.

Low engagements is my pet peeve, more like Achilles' heel.

I randomly push hard on myself.

Yet, exhaustion dwells on my shelf.

Still, I keep going without hesitation.

Hoping for some motivation.

But no one cares.

Still, I ignore my fears.

I am something.

I am someone.

My thoughts in the shower are depressing.

But I put them together into another Tale, enchanting.

Every disappointment is a blessing.

I compress those thoughts into another book.

Very fresh and new.

My insecurities are my attributes, but I don't care.

I will ignore my fears,

Like I am not scared.

I've been through emotional distress.

But I won't succumb to the stress.

I am something....

I am someone.....

I still dwell In my past,

A house of mirrors which reflects my future as vast.

I hope so...

I hope to reap for the hardwork I have sown.

I am something.

I am someone.

I am a writer.

-Heppie Leo

"succeed, i will"

That, we say.

But will we?

Life says nay!

It seems as easy as speaking.

But it's not.

We do all the dreaming.

But, When life arouses to us.

It all dissipates like a fog.

Like butterflies, we think we are.

Catapillar today,

Hoping for a better tomorrow.

But it all seems like that tomorrow never arrives.

Leaving us in sorrow.

Life always never gives us a chance.

Like a loop, for instance.

Never seeming to get to the end of the struggle.

It's like a jungle jumble.

Every strive falls futile.

Every dream gets shattered.

Every hope gets crushed.

Every cry results unheard.

What's this fucked up thing called life?

Yet, wonderful.

But emotionally draining.

Yet, amazing.

But depressing.

The tears shed into the sheets.

The insecurities engraved behind our faces.

The weight buried in our hearts.

The thoughts shattered in our mind like a mosaic.

The yells screamed into the pillows.

Life turns a deaf ear.

Yet, when we get back on our feets.

It pulls us back down without consideration.

When we start to run.

It takes our legs made of courage.

When we start to yell.

It takes our voices made of motivation.

Is this a simulation?

All the strives and pain.

With no grain of gain.

All the heartbreaks and tears.

Waiting all these years.

All the fake smiles and laughters.

Leaving the challenging past in the past.

We never arrived at our dreamlands.

Still trapped in such place like nightmare in midnights.

And in the end,

All I learned was to give up.

FOLLOW FOR MORE

I was in a deep slumber diving further into my Dreamland when I heard faint sounds, but I assumed it was just part of my dream. Then, I felt cold hands on my arm that had me jolting awake.

My gaze met my 12-year-old daughter, Michelle towering over me.

"Michelle, what is it. Daddy is tired. It's...."I paused as I tilted my neck to look at the clock hung on the wall, "past 2"

She looked down at her feet timidly, knowing I already knew what she was going to say.

Every night, she comes to my room, saying something was in her room bothering her. One day, she even said it was her late mother.

"Daddy, it's... she's in my room," she said, her voice trembling.

I tried to reassure her it was just her imagination.

"But, daddy. Can I sleep here?"she begged.

I refused, telling her the bed wasn't big enough. I shared my own experience of losing my father and how everything was terrifying but it all went back to normal with time. She seemed to accept it. I raised but then planted a soft kiss on her forehead before she left.

I went back to sleep, then a scream pierced the night from her room.

At first, I thought she was just overreacting probably over a roach, but the silence that followed was oppressive, I fought and fought to go back to sleep but I had a hunch and a sense of unease that made me wake up every 30 seconds.

After arguing it to myself, defeated, I got up and headed to her room.

As I entered, the atmosphere seemed to shift, and I felt sinister eyes on me in the darkness. My cold feet a stark contrast to the floors beneath it. I reached for the switch and the lights flickered not giving me a chance to view the room.

I reached for the curtains and raised it letting the moonlight illuminate the room. The eerie cold breeze that came in through the window and grazed upon my skin had me quivering in terror.

I turned around, that's when I saw it - blood on the floor, and the words "THE SCREAM" painted in blood. My heart raced as I saw Michelle's body lying nearby, seemingly dead. I tried to scream for help, but my voice was trapped in my throat, only a silent choke that punctuated the silence escaped my lips. I was paralyzed with fear, immobile, only shivering in fear.

My desires as a writer is to inspire the world.

Gain fame at my teenage age.

Become a best seller.

Make my parents proud of me.

Write.

Keep writing.

Inspire younger writers.

I don't know if I'm the only writer who feels the same burning desire in me.

They say everyone has a purpose.

But it's unknown to them.

I think I know mine, it's to inspire souls with my writing pieces.

It's to make words be the best they can.

It's to build a community of readers who will anticipate my next piece.

It's to make my country proud of me.

It's to be the next writer after Shakespeare or be better!!

It's to.... Just name it. To use my talent like it's deserved to be used.

It's my talent.

Something of value.

One in a billion.

Once in a lifetime.

It's either used or wasted.

And- and I wish to use it.

I wish to see faces smile as they gaze down at my works.

I want to soften hard minds.

Brighten dark souls.

Strengthen weak hearts.

Yes there are challenges.

But I'll always stand.

As strong as a rock.

No motivation? Come on, I don't need motivation.

I'm my motivation.

My talent alone is a motivation. I have it!!

My works are my motivation.

Writer's block? Come on, that's just a phase I will always defeat.

Low engagement? I don't need engagements.

Because trust me, you'll come back here and read my works.

You'll be addicted.

You'll watch me and admire me.

What else can stop me?

I'm unstoppable!!

I'm powerful!

I'm amazing!

I'm strong!

I'm talented!!

I'm beautiful!!

I'm wonderful!

I'm Great!

I'm fabulous!!

What else am I?

Definitely not a minor.

I'm an aspiring author/authoress.

I'm worth it.

I'm a writer.

I'm a poet.

I'll never. NEVER!! stop till I become an authroress.

Till I prove my enemies wrong.

Till I show to the world I'm something of value.

Till I amaze minds.

Till I put smile on y'all's faces.

I am a writer

✨Life by Heppie Leo ✨

I stood in the yard amidst the wide jasmine garden, finding a place of peace in my mind or maybe I was finding my peace of mind.

I closed my eyes to dive further into my fantasy whilst the pleasant sound of the swallows chirping occasionally filled my ears nicely. The swallows grazed playfully upon the flowers around me ignoring my presence.

I dived into my thoughts about how dynamic and intense life was.

'Life is a wonderful place'

'Life can also be the most terrifying nightmare'

'Life is the best teammate; any battle can be won with Life on one's side'

'Life is also the worst opponent; it's risky when life is against one'

I sighed in satisfaction as the wonderful fragrance of the flowers danced into my nostrils.

'Life is two faced'

'It can either be on one’s side or be one’s opponent. However, it can be both; it doesn’t play by the rules of the game because it is the game'

'Yes!!'

'friends has 7 letters, so does enemies'

'love has 4 letters, so does hate'

'Good has 4 letters, so does evil'

'cry has 3 letters, so does Joy'

'one don’t have to choose. One can’t. Life chooses'

'Yes that’s not the rules of the game. Will the Sun come and fight for one’s sake? Will the world come crashing down for one’s justice? No'

'We are nothing but puppets with Its' strings attached to Life’s fingers to Life'

'Remember, it is the "game", more like a "gamble"'

'No matter what it offers, always be happy and accept it'

'And if you don’t, then what? Remember you’re just a mere character in the game'

'’learn to accept Life for the game shall end someday'

'Just be happy, embrace life, succumb to Fate'

'Find your peace of mind; it doesn’t matter if it’s little, a glimmer would do. Develop it!'

'Embrace it’s what it brings to the table, it’s limited'

'Keep going. Never give up'

'Because someday, the game shall give up on you'

'Live'

'impact souls'

'Love'

'smile'

I smiled as the air grazed upon my skin steadily.

A sweat trailed down my neck soaking my beautiful dress as I sat uncomfortably on the fancy red chair. I was so nervous that I felt like biting my nails to comfort myself.

My gaze swept across the cozy hall, looking at other contestants smiling, though it was evident some smiles were fake but I was the only one sweating!

I tried composing myself but once again, another time sweat dropped.

I looked at the judges going through everyone's works and nodding slightly while whispering things to themselves.

The dim lit hall was cold tranquil and clouded with so much tension. The writer beside me had her fingers crossed praying to God that her poem would win the prize and award, though she had a confident smile on her face.

I tried to wipe my sweat with the back of my hand but my hands were trembling.

The judges' occasional glance at the contestants only fueled my anxiety, they would also inscribe things on their provided sheet of paper. After they were done, they handed their papers to the host who went on the stage with a microphone and began.

"And the winner of the yawg international annual writing contest is.........."

So much suspense, so much anxiety, so much anticipation, so much expectations, so much pressure, so much tension, so much prayer, so much tranquility...... In one hall filled with writers who had made it to the finals.

I shut my eyes for a moment to think of what would happen If I won this contest. I would publish my books, I would travel to Paris, I would invest, I would gain fame, but those things didn't matter. What mattered was I would sponsor the less privileged but talented writers especially teenage once who have limited financial access.

But, what would happen if I lost this contest. Life would go on, I'll try again next year, I'll keep writing, I'll inspire teenage writers, I'll go back home to those who would help me recharge my hope. Those didn't matter, how was I going to face those who criticized me and told me I would never win?

I opened my eyes and looked around again, then put a smile on my face. It's either a win or a lose, I can't do anything about it.

"...Aurora Smith!!!"I heard. I looked around to search for who Aurora was,

"Aurora?" I called softly searching for Aurora.

Realization hit me hard like a moving train that I was Aurora!! H-how?

I found my legs and walked to the stage as slow as ever to take my prizes. I was so excited that I didn't realize when the paparazzi were taking photos of me.

It felt like the best day of my life, I felt over the moon, it was my day of triumph. it was indeed a picture perfect day for me.