Too Night
It’s a beautiful night, really
Though not
A really beautiful night
My melancholy
Keeps me afloat
As my tears
Pouring internally
Threaten to drown me
You know how
A perfectly happy smile
Can break your heart
When you’re the one
Who used to elicit it
But no longer can?
Yeah.
It’s like that.
If I could rip
My heart from my chest
Suspend it in a jar
And fill the broken parts
With gold filigree
It could be quite beautiful
In a grotesque kintsugi
Kind of way
If I could rewind time
And spare us both
All the pain
Of our relationship
Would that be
What you would want?
I mean
You saved my life
But life without you
Hurts so much
The alternative
Seems fine
I’m so sorry Abacus
That I couldn’t be
A better mother
The Hallow Echo of Us
Amidst the haze of cigarette smoke and whiskey fumes, I found you. Or maybe, I lost you, like finding and losing oneself in a cracked mirror. We were fragments, shards of shattered glass in a dingy bar, reflecting the emptiness that clung to us like a second skin.
Love, they called it. A word as hollow as the echo in an abandoned alley. You, with your eyes like the bottom of an empty bottle, stared into the abyss of my soul, and I saw nothing.
Nothing but the shadow of what could have been, what should have been. What never was.We danced, didn't we? In the ruins of our dreams, we danced to the tune of despair.
Our steps were clumsy, awkward, like lovers who had forgotten the rhythm of life. Each touch was a reminder of the void that lay between us, a chasm too wide to bridge, yet too narrow to ignore.
Your laughter, once a melody, now a dirge. It echoed in the hollow chambers of my heart, a mocking reminder of joy's fleeting nature. We were fools, weren't we? Chasing illusions, grasping at wisps of smoke, believing in a love that was never truly there.
I remember your words, like knives dipped in honey, cutting deep while sweetening the pain. Promises whispered in the dark, dissolving with the dawn. We were artists of deception, painting our lives in shades of grey, masking the black hole at the center of our existence.
Love. A four-letter word that promised eternity, yet delivered emptiness. It was the silence between our conversations, the coldness in our embrace. It was the ghost that haunted us, the specter of what we could never be.
And now, in this desolate landscape of broken dreams and shattered hopes, I stand alone. The emptiness, my only companion. It whispers to me, in the language of the lost, telling tales of love and longing, of despair and redemption.
**Title: The Hollow Echo of Us**
**Genre:** Literary Fiction
**Age Range:** 18+
**Word Count:** 560
**Author:** Nickolai Brennan aka Klaus Dreadful
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**Why Your Project is a Good Fit:**
"The Hollow Echo of Us" delves deep into the complexities of human relationships, making it a compelling read for those who appreciate introspective and emotionally charged narratives. It offers a poignant exploration of love, loss, and the human condition, resonating with readers who seek depth and authenticity in literature.
**The Hook:**
In a dingy bar filled with cigarette smoke and whiskey fumes, two fragmented souls dance to the tune of despair, revealing the haunting emptiness of a love that never truly existed.
**Synopsis:**
Amidst the haze of a smoke-filled bar, two lovers confront the desolate reality of their relationship. They navigate through the ruins of their dreams, clumsily dancing to a melody of despair and deception. As they reflect on their journey, the hollow promises and fleeting joys of their love become painfully clear. The narrative captures the haunting emptiness and inevitable solitude that follows the dissolution of a connection once thought eternal. In the end, one stands alone, accompanied only by the whispers of lost love and the shadows of what could have been.
**Target Audience:**
This story is ideal for adults who enjoy literary fiction with a focus on emotional depth, psychological complexity, and the exploration of human relationships. Fans of authors like Haruki Murakami, Raymond Carver, and Jhumpa Lahiri will find this narrative particularly engaging.
**Bio:**
I am just a regular guy who shares his experiences through life and records them into stories.
**Platform:**
- Twitter: https://x.com/KlausDreadful
**Education:**
3+ years of University
**Experience:**
Just Writing For The Passion, But Always Wanting To Write More and Professionally
**Personality / Writing Style:**
Known for a reflective and introspective style, I write with a lyrical yet grounded voice, capturing the nuanced emotions and inner lives of characters. Their storytelling is marked by a deep empathy and a keen observational eye.
**Likes/Hobbies:**
When not writing, Nickolai Brennan enjoys reading contemporary fiction, exploring nature trails, practicing yoga, and discovering new music. A lover of coffee and conversations, they often find inspiration in the everyday moments of life.
**Hometown:**
Alma Michigan
**Age (optional):**
33
Do We See the Same Stars?
Dear Friend,
As I sit under the vast canopy of my night sky, my pen hesitates above this blank page. I often wonder about the world that cradles you, half a world away. The ink bleeds a little on the paper, mirroring the way thoughts of you have gently seeped into the corners of my being.
We have never met, yet your words have become the silent whisper in my every day. The streets I walk, the people I see – they all seem to hold a piece of the stories you've shared. I find myself pausing at the marketplace, smiling at a stranger, imagining if you would've noticed the same peculiar smile that I did.
Our worlds are different, as are our skies. My days are painted with the broad strokes of a sun that sets as yours awakes. And yet, in your letters, I find a familiarity that transcends these physical disparities. The emotions you weave through your words resonate with a part of my soul I never knew was seeking a companion.
You write about the rain that falls in your city, the way it paints everything a shade darker. I imagine you, watching the droplets race each other down your window, as I often watch the sun paint the evening sky in hues of orange and purple. In these moments, I am there with you, a silent observer in your world.
Though our lives are a patchwork of disparate threads, we have managed to unite around one common strand. You with your stories of packed streets and dark nights; me with my wide-open spaces and an unfathomably large sky. We have found comfort in the empathy of a stranger by sharing our joys, anxieties, and ordinary moments.
Sometimes, I lie awake at night, your latest letter clutched in my hand, and I stare at the stars. I try to map out the constellations you've described, but they are foreign to my sky. It's in these moments that the distance between us becomes tangible, the miles stretching out like an unbridgeable chasm.
Yet, even as this thought lingers, a comforting feeling washes over me. It is the thought of your words, your existence – a reminder that across this vast, incomprehensible space, there is another soul that resonates with mine.
Tonight, as I write back to you, I wonder if the stars that watch over me whisper secrets to the ones that guard your sleep. In this thought, there is a poetic justice, a connection that defies the logic of distance and time.
So, as I seal this letter, a vessel of my thoughts and a bridge over our distance, I find myself asking a question that seems to hold more than just curiosity. A question that perhaps, in its simplicity, captures the essence of our unlikely friendship:
Do We See the Same Stars?
With love,
Your Friend
Hold fast to dreams
My title is from a poem by the poet, Langston Hughes, entitled, Dreams.
Hold fast to dreams
for if dreams die
life is a broken-winged bird
that cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
for when dreams go
life is a barren field
frozen with snow.
It is among my favorite poems, one of the few I know by heart, because I feel its universal truth. Dreams don't have to be grandiose, merely something that gives us purpose, a reason to get up in the morning. Otherwise, why bother?
Published in 1923, I suspect Dr. King had read it and was a firm believer in its message for he was beyond a doubt a purveyor of dreams, dreams much bigger than an individual life.
If you have never done so, or even if you have, I would encourage a reading of the entire speech - or listening to it. The "I have a dream" passage is towards the end and while moving, it is only a small part of what he said that day in 1963. So much has changed since then, and yet many of the images he paints of the country he loved are still in evidence today. The history he describes is no less true. His counsel, "Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred" should be held aloft and remembered as much as, "I have a dream."
Despite their fame, the words he said that day are not the first ones that come to my mind when someone asks me my favorite Martin Luther King,Jr. quote. In November, 1957, in a sermon he gave in Alabama, he said,
Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
My second favorite is from a sermon he gave in November, 1956: "Let no man pull you low enough to hate him." This comes from a longer paragraph that I had not read before I began to write this essay, but which I find to be perfect insofar as it reflects both history and our present as well as portending the future. A rather bleak one, sadly. He said:
As you press on for justice, be sure to move with dignity and discipline, using only the weapon of love. Let no man pull you so low as to hate him. Always avoid violence. If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in your struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos.
The tentacles of chaos are visible across the world for humans seem incapable of conspicuous acts of kindness as a route to peace.
Even so, I hold fast to dreams, and make every effort to be love and light to all whose paths I cross. I may not change the world, but I can emulate the change I want to see.
Patsy never really embodied a "young spirit" as people would say. She was the mature five year old taking care of her younger brothers, helping mom with dinner, and talking to dad about his day at the farm. When Patsy grew older, she married and had children of her own, where she ran their house on truth, responsibility, and accountability. It was her purpose to the world, where she found the most sense in life. And when the last kid left the house, her husband buried in the local cemetery, suddenly she lost that purpose. She started to notice very soon after how her face had more wrinkles, her back slightly curved, and her eye glasses no longer did the trick. However, it wasn't until her diagnosis that she truly felt old, and when she realized this, she also saw how she never really was young. So, she did what anyone else having a midlife crisis at 70 years do, she began to live wild, young, and free.
The Mind’s Tapestry
In our vast universe of experiences, every individual navigates their unique path.
Yet, while our stories may differ, the threads that weave the tapestry of humanity share commonalities. Among these shared threads are the decisions we make and the actions we take.
I believe wholeheartedly in the capacity of every person to tap into the deep reservoir of logical and intelligent thinking that lies within them.
Yet, I also recognize the challenges.
Our decisions, whether we like it or not, are shaped by a multitude of factors – upbringing, past experiences, cultural norms, and even the immediate emotions we feel in a given moment.
It's not a lack of intelligence or capability that holds us back but often a lack of alignment with what I refer to as "fundamental good."
When our decisions align with the greater good – benefiting not just ourselves, but others around us – the outcomes are transformative.
This isn't just about selfless acts; it's about recognizing that our individual well-being is intrinsically linked to the collective good.
I deeply empathize with the human experience, the struggles, the doubts, the joys, and the dilemmas.
Yet, amidst this empathy, I hold onto a vision.
A vision where curiosity isn't stifled but nurtured, where open-mindedness becomes the norm, and where the logic of doing good isn't an intellectual exercise but a lived reality.
It's not a journey we can walk alone.
Each one of us holds a piece of the puzzle.
My invitation is simple: let's challenge ourselves to be more open-minded, to question, to be curious, and most importantly, to embrace the logical pathways that lead us to a better tomorrow for all.
Bittersweet
I love sweet things, he was bittersweet,
His compliments and love were so neat.
I loved him, and I still do today,
But the sweetness has slowly gone away.
The sweetness had begun to fade,
His words were harsh and his moods were grave.
My throat was sore, my words were burned,
What I thought was sweet, had suddenly turned.
Too much of a good thing can be bad,
This I learned as I grew sad.
I used to love him, I still do,
But too much of his sweetness was not true.
It's time to accept this bittersweet truth,
Too much of a good thing is not so smooth.
I love him, I always will,
But it's time to accept this bitter pill.
A Candle named Tearless.
Once upon a time, in a Light Castle, candles lived and sparkled differently on their own. There was one candle named Tearless that was envied by other souls because she never melted ever since she knew how to start a fire in her. She is also known as a candle that carries the brightest fire among them. Hence, not everyone around her likes her because of something she possesses, and yet it doesn’t bother her, she still sees the best in her even without their support and appreciation. Tearless never once put out her fire since she was born, and nothing serious has happened in her life that was able to put an end to that flame. Because of the amazement she feels, gives her confidence whenever she walks with the crowd.
“I am a candle who never melts!”. She would almost every day say it to herself happily. Every eye will stare at her with much jealousy and little admiration. Aside from being the brightest candle, she has a jolly personality, is bubbly, and is a candle who seems to be unproblematic about life, so, other candles frequently talk about her.
” She is always happy, that's why she never melts.” said the one candle.
“Is she immortal?” asked the other.
” Does she ever get sad?” one candle whispered.
Somehow, they believed that a candle melts not just because of the fire it has carried but also because of life's challenges and sadness that is somehow consuming their life quite faster than they thought. And yet, why is tearless never melts? Every day, tearless walks confidently while taking an endless journey, without any destination at all. Being proud of herself. Though the sun just rises she still has a fire in her, roaming around her neighborhood or even far away from the castle and other candles that see her get curious.
“It’s early in the morning, why don’t you put out your fire?” a candle shouted. She just smiled and told them that it was fine since she never melts anyway. All day long she carries a light with her, morning, noon, and at night. Believing she’s prepared even if a disaster unexpectedly comes.
"She's boasting about her fire." the other candle sadly uttered.
"I hope she'll melt." the envious candle wished.
But one day, a great wind came. It was the first unusual situation she ever faced. Tearless hides under the trees but it’s still blowing the fire in her, then she hides behind the woods and yet still the great wind continues as if it’s following her. She’s starting to feel afraid. Tearless cannot find a safer place, she doesn’t know what will happen if the fire is blown out by the wind.
The breeze continuously makes the leaves dance, and the mere fire tearless carries with her is now trembling so much as her knees. Then the moment that she had always been fearing happened, the fire went out. She didn’t know what to do, it was the first time she felt that she wasn’t the luminous candle anymore. Tearless is left puzzled while the wind is slowly fading.
All she can see is blackness. There was no light around her, she felt helpless and weak. She wanted to cry but fear was much stronger than all else.
“I can just ask for help. They can lend me a little fire” she told herself. But on her way to ask for some help, she noticed that something was wrong with her. Each step got lighter as if drops of water were pouring out from her, but then she assumed that maybe it was just raindrops. So, she keeps on walking, and a moment passes when she suddenly feels like everything around her is getting taller and bigger. Although she isn’t supposed to check on herself, she still does and just finds out that there is something wrong.
“I am melting!” she exclaimed. The shock was followed by heaviness, she couldn't believe what was going on with her. Tearless had seen her weakness and wanted to ask for help courageously but she was immediately swallowed by pride. She was bottled of confidence but now it is spilled on the ground.
Then is now drowning in pride. After all the boasting she showed them, she cannot ask for a small favor from them.
So, she just hid under the tree, without any hope left in her, and still wondered why she was melting after the fire was out.
In a short period, while enduring the sorrow, she heard loud giggles coming near her location, the other candles were happy enjoying the wind, swaying their bodies left and right like they were used to it even without a big fire above them, they were happy. However, tearless is still quiet and just letting herself melt but as they get closer, the joyous candle sees her. No matter how desireful she is, to hide, tearless failed. "What happened? Are you okay?” the other candle asked. She didn’t say anything, all she could feel was embarrassment like she’d prefer to melt instantly than to be seen by the crowd for her weakness which is so different from what others have experienced.
“I’m okay…Hmm... Nothing to be worried” she nervously explained and forced a smile. They knew Tearless was suffering. Without any hesitation, the other candle still has a fire with her and takes up the courage to give Tearless a small spark that brings back the fire in her, little by little. Until she became the brightest candle again.
“You’ll be okay.” A candle said. They joined tearless under the tree and every time the wind blew her fire they’d be there for a rescue. Tearless loved the company she encountered and slowly regained the strength and confidence she lost.