Emica Kana is 18 years old. She has always loved writing stories., They were her escape from reality. She always wished that a man would come and save her like they always do in the stories.
Well, she got her wish.
Emica entered a small writing school that was near a river. Her friend had joined her. But, the teacher had an odd vibe around him. Emica became a little scared of him. She especially became scared when the teacher started to pay more attention to her. One day, when she runs from him, she falls into a world of adventure, risk, and abnormalities. 
But, her teacher is what scares her more than this new world. What secrets and schemes did he use to get her here?

It all began the day before my father's death. I remember our last conversation as clear as day. I admitted to him my lack of confidence in my desired profession. I told him I want to become a writer but that I lack the ability to be truly creative. I lack the ability to see it in my mind. I just want to be an author and create something new and admirable. When I spoke of my worries to him, of my faltering conscience, he only laughed. It made me angry, but before I could speak on it, he spoke to me. 
"I know you, Gracie, and I believe you can do whatever you put your mind to." He held my hand and squeezed gently. As much as I knew he was trying to comfort me, it didn't help as much as I wanted it too. He's been telling me this my whole life. 
"I don't know, dad. I think I'm in over my head.  I want to live many different lives. I only get one chance at the one I have now and the only time I can really get out to the world and make friends and create things that others could never do is through words." Feeling tears come at this admission, I let go of his hand. He didn't look hurt and my irritation flared some. I have a slight temper problem sometimes. It can be an upsetting development in certain situations because nobody knows quite what to do with me. It's one of the other reasons I want to escape this world. I'm not sure I could really live with how people look at me. Disgust. Fear. Upset. The only people who ever understand me is dad, Timmy, and my mom. My dad is an old soul and very clumsy. He's always breaking stuff. Timmy is only a small child. Well, he was a small child. My mom is a very quiet person. Though when she does talk, she's a very chipper woman. I think I got my temper from my grandpa. He died about two years back, but I knew him well enough to keep my distance. 
"It'll all work out. I just know it will." Dad said to me. It was a small comfort, knowing I had his support. 
The next day, we ate dinner at the table together. Timmy was eating his Macaroni and cheese with his hands and sitting in his high chair. Mom hadn't realized what had happened until much later and I was locked inside my own mind, traveling around the depths and corners, still trying to distinguish and organize everything in there.
At first I thought the clump sound I heard was Timmy throwing his bowl again, so I paid no mind. I wish I could go back to my 13 year old self and tell myself to pay attention. Maybe it wouldn't have ended that way.
It's been fifteen years since that moment. I remember that distinct sound, that CLUMP! that ended all the normalcy of my life. It was a heart attack, we were told. I don't ever remember heart attacks ever causing someone to be in a coma for six years. Mom eventually gave up and signed the paperwork to pull the plug. He's gone now. They told us after his first examination that if we had gotten him to the hospital even a few moments before, he would have had a better chance at survival. It was all my fault then. Mom was hysterical and her first instinct was to run to him and hold his spasming body. How I couldn't even notice him right in front of me, having a seizure of some sort, I have no idea. I guess I was just too absorbed and too busy being selfish. 
I'm twenty eight now. I finished a four year college on literature, journalism, and the fine arts. I figured learning about creative things would give me some real creative ideas. After graduating, it was difficult to find a decent working job. I found a company called "If Life Was a Book" and applied there. The company was created specifically for aspiring authors. They allow me to write my stories there and have them edited and published. The more popularity, the more money goes into the company. It's only a new place, but I'm sure it will be prosperous. It's almost always half full in the main writing room. I find the typing on the keyboards to be pleasing.
I remember Timothy's reaction when I told him I finally found the perfect place to live out my dream profession. He was playing video games in his room and there was a girl in there. I honestly think he could do much better than that. The girl looked like a slutty hippie, with those really high Mexican style heels, the short, tight, shiny shirt and the lumpy skirt with soft looking fabric. She had her hair up messily and I realized what had occurred after a moment of thinking. There was even a used condom on the floor. 
When I told Timmy of my accomplishment, he barely said anything to me. I'm sure he heard me because he nodded in my direction. I learned later that the girl's name is Lizabeth, but most people just call her Beth. 
Mom's reaction was none too similar. Ever since dad was first induced into his coma, mom killed off her twenty two years of sobriety. She was always drunk. This time, when I came to her with the news, she just laughed at me. 
"Oh Grrracie, Gracc—," She laughed an amused laugh and stumbled forward a bit. "Do you really think he's cheering you on right now? No, he's not. He's wondering right this second as he watches his daughter just why he helped birth you. He wonders why you try SO hard to accomplish something you'll never be able to have. He would be ashamed to find you still groveling to everyone around you. He would be ashamed to know that you aren't even doing this for his family. Wouldn't it be sad if he knew why you're really doing this? How do you think he would feel if he knew you only work at that dumb company because you're still in denial that he's gone." She let out a snarky laugh. I've gotten used to this type of behavior from her. It's become almost normal. 
Before I know what's happening, I'm in her face, blood boiling and face scrunched up in anger. I huffed into her face.
"And I bet he's turning over in his grave watching you be such a wonderful mother." Sarcasm so strong it could break through titanium leaks out dreadfully. The words are cruel, I know, but I couldn't keep them in. Her eyes fill up to the brim with salt water. She slaps me, something I didn't see coming until I felt the burn on my face. She's seething. She's said all these things to me and when I get mad, she rages. I'm not even sure what she was expecting. I let out a dark, humorless laugh and walk out the room. 
I don't allow myself to cry as I leave that house. I needed to go back to my book. 
I've been working at the company for three years now. I've written a few books since then. Only two, but I never thought writing would be so time consuming. I wrote a book about a girl gaining special powers from her father who happened to be the King. She didn't know that until the end though. The other book was about a girl who is constantly being chased by her own nightmares and one day the Nightbringer welcomes himself into the dreams and turns them into reality. It was almost a reflection of my life. That was probably why it was such a successful book. "The Nightbringer," I called it. It was only so successful because it was very detailed and reflected my emotions. I had to add the story of my life in the acknowledgements if only to help people understand me better.
That moment three years ago was the moment I realized I couldn't stay in that house anymore, so I left without saying a word. It wasn't worth staying anyway. I got an apartment on one of the quieter parts of town. The city shuffled everywhere all the time, always moving. Maybe that's what kept the city alive. It doesn't matter though because I'm used to it by now.
I walk through the door of my home after a long day of tapping keys. I made it to about two hundred thousand letters today and my fingers ached. It was definitely more than I usually write. Even sticking the keys through the doorknob was difficult. My hands shook and it took a whole six and a half minutes to finally get the door open. My neighbor lended a hand after hearing me struggling with it and then walked back inside his apartment. Inside was cold. The cold air had been turned on this morning. I woke up sweating because of the heat and turned it on this morning. If seems as though I forgot to turn it back off again. It feels like a blizzard rolled in unannounced. 
I'm so stupid, I think to myself. Why am I such an idiot? And so forgetful? You'd think I'd have learned by now. Mistakes being made seems to be a habit I've had recently. I just can't help it. I've been trying to quit, but nothing seems to work. I sigh as I set down the keys. I'm so tired I could sleep for ages. It's a Thursday though, so I can't expect anything nice tomorrow except more writing early in the morning. I get paid tomorrow. I'm ready to hurry up and get these damn bills paid for and done with. Great. Just great. I've begun cursing in my own head. A humorless laugh escapes me. I seem to be having a good bit of those recently. What the hell am I supposed to do. 
I jump as I stand there. I hear a vibrating sound along with some sort of alarm and my heart skitters and jumps. Then I realize the buzzing and alarm sounds are coming from my phone. 
Once again, I feel a wave of self-totally-not-appreciation. "Yunoka" the ringer said. Yuno is my best friend if not my only friend. She's Japanese but definitely knows her English. She's taught me the basic of Japanese and I tend to educate her on Spanish sometimes which I took in high school. 
I press the green call button and bring the phone to my ear. As I do that, I begin removing my shoes. "Hello?" My voice is tired and I hope she doesn't notice. 
No such luck.
"Oh my goodnessers, Gracie, are you alright? You sound like someone just karate chopped you in the throat and then stole your voice, chopped that, too and gave it back in an unsuccessful surgery." I let out a rough laugh, and my throat was sore. Yuno can always make me laugh.
"Oddly specific." I mutter after my laugh.
"For good reason, girl, trust me. Anyway, I was calling to see if you could edit my article for the newspaper."
"You're still working on that thing? Don't you know that nobody reads those except old people?"
"Hey, one day we will be those old people reading these papers. Be respectful to your elders, Gracie because one day those elders could be you." I laugh again.
"Yes, ma'am." I joke. All of a sudden Yuno's voice is serious. 
"Gracie, on a more serious note, how have you been feeling? I know your mother isn't doing too well and Timmy is still being a man hoe and failing at life, so I want to know if you've been alright. You haven't been pushing yourself too hard, have you?" I don't have to think of my answer too long. 
"Have no fear, Yuno, everything is fine. As for my mom and Timmy, they've made their choices. I'm just caught up in work and deadlines right now although I definitely passed it today."
Yuno's voice is sincere: "I know, honey. Maybe you should take a leave of absence for a little while. You know, kind of relax. Take a deep breath and think about things. I know how you can be sometimes. It can't possibly be healthy." Now I just really want to end the call. I hate talking about serious stuff. It bothers me on a very severe emotional level. 
I have always told Yuno that my home life isn't something I like to talk about so hearing her talking about it to me like it's some normal thing we do all the time is annoying. 
"Yuno." I reply sternly. "Good night. I need sleep. It's the only relaxing I'm going to get anytime soon." 
I swiftly end the call and take a shower. The water on my back is more relaxing than any lousy breaks. My work is what keeps me sane and alive. Yuno doesn't understand me at all. I'm still going to try to fit in editing her article into my schedule, but I'm still not happy about her intrusion on my personal life. 
I hurry out of the shower and into my bed. It's definitely not the most comfortable thing in the world, but's it's better than home. No, I tell myself. This is my home. 
But in my mind, a distant saying circles my brain and hounds my thoughts.
"Home is where the heart is." 
I wish that were true.

Twenty-eight year old Gracie Pierce wants to be a writer. With her father dead, her mother as a drunk, and her little brother addicted to video games and girls, she has persistent urges to write if only to escape her home life. One day, Gracie is so captivated by her own story that she gets entranced and trapped by it and becomes a literal character inside her book. In order to return home to her family back in the real world, Gracie must become the hero of her own creativity. However, Gracie begins to wonder if she truly wants to leave the fantasy world at all; especially considering all that she has to go through in the real world. Warning: Not much romance here. Told from Gracie’s point of view. Support for this book is greatly appreciated. The more support is equal to the amount of motivation I have to continue writing! Thanks! :) (Light Fantasy)

The language learning course which tested the ability of the students' minds to read, and comprehend a certain text, acknowledged the variety of literary pieces across the world, expressed one's sentiments, and viewpoints through creative writing, and gave up a speech to the public with a required self-confidence and charisma had conquered the class of Yeats.

"English Time!" a classmate exclaimed.

"Ugh. Why on earth..." Noah said, lying her head onto the armrest.

The teacher had arrived with her male student who assisted her to carry on her stationery materials and left afterwards. 

She expressed her warmest greeting to the class, "Good morning, everyone."

"Gooood Morningggg, Ma'am Rhea," the entire students responded in dullness, deliberately prolonging the words.

"Again, good morning, Yeats."

"Good Morning, Ma'am Rhea! We are happy to see you today!"

The teacher nodded, and commanded them, "Okay, you may now take your seats."

"So Yeats, in this period, we would be having an activity, and I'm sure you would definitely love to hate this one."

The students plastered a counterfeit grin on their faces as they listened to their teacher's introduction. It looked as if their incoming task would be an "easy yet a lazy job" for them.

"You will be composing an original poetry! Isn't beautiful? A form of art of regurgitating all your personal experiences, feelings, aspirations, and showing off your ideals and visions of the world around us by using a piece of paper and a pen. What lies ahead of our future? Who shall be the one to pass this on for the next generation. It's only you, the young ones. As our beloved national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal quoted, 'The youth is the hope of our nation'," Ma'am Rhea Azuela dramatically spoke, and her fists were firmly closed.

Everyone groaned with the exemption of Ma'am Rhea whose energy was trying hard to somehow radiate the entire classroom.

"Hmm... Okay, you only have two options: To create or not to create. My role as a teacher is simply taking down of your grades and morals in your report card. If you want a failing grade, why not? I'll give it to you. Other than that, what does youth always say? You only live once, eh? So, I won't stop you from not submitting your requirement," Ma'am Rhea shrugged.

"Anyways, for those who wished to conform to the task, listen up. Before you start writing, I would love to give a bit of a background about our today's lesson. I'm sure most of you familiar with them. We've known different lyrical poems, epic poems and etcetera. Now, I'll ask you. What is haiku? Anyone?"

"Just give me a gist of it."

Students were staring at each other's eyes, and no one dared to speak. Few were looking at the white board. Most were avoiding an eye contact from their instructor. Some of them were gaping at the outside of the room. Ma'am Rhea whined and continued.

"Guys, you have to talk. Remember, this is an English class. You have to hone your communication skills. How are you going supposed to learn if you don't utilize your mouths? Ha? Come on. No answers are wrong in language. It's more on thoughts and ideas that we should express. You should be engaging more on interaction. And pretty please, let's help each other out. Don't leave me hanging guys, Okay?"

"Now, any thoughts from this group?" she asked, looking at the first row. Ma'am Rhea was about to choose her lucky victim when one of her students raised her right hand, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss? What do you think? What is haiku?"

"May I go to the comfort room?" the wench replied.

Some of the senior high students were retaining their soon-to-be-bursted laughter. Ma'am Rhea sighed, and said, "Yes, you may."

The young lass stood up straight, and said, "But, If I am not mistaken, haiku refers to a five-seven-five syllable count in a one three-phrase stanza. It is also originated in Japan."

"Again, thank you for your permission, Ma'am."

The schoolgirl went to the school comfort room, leaving the entire class in amusement. Ma'am Rhea snapped her fingers to get back her little ones' focus.

"That's my girl! She got it right. Finally, someone saved you from danger, eh?" the teacher cunningly grinned, and the student were then relieved. 

"And since this is a surprise activity, you need not to compose a haiku. Still, it is included in your quarterly exams. Instead, I challenge you to write a poem. Freestyle. Whether you want to have your piece that consists of a rhyme, or a regular meter. It's up to you. Make sure it has three stanzas. Do you understand me, Yeats?"

Dassah lifted up her hand up, and called, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Dassah?"

"What would the topic be about?" the student asked.

"Hmm... Good question," Ma'am Rhea nodded, and began considering a great theme for her class's written poetry. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped up. She smiled and responded to her student.

"It should be based on your personal experience. For example, your bonding with your family and friends. Maybe you want to write about your life as a student, and whatsoever. The sky's the limit."

"So, any questions?"

The class replied, "None."

"Okay. You may now start. And please let me check your composition before the bell rings whether it is done or not. I'll give a plus point and a secret award for those who could create a finished piece," Ma'am Rhea announced, and sat down on her chair to relax her voluptuous legs.

"Ma'am, what is the reward?" one man asked.

"It won't be confidential anymore, if I'll tell you, mister," she said.

The students proceeded writing on their mandatory art work. Creative juices were flooding up inside of their right brains. Tearing papers were echoing everywhere in the section. Loud mental groans from every school teens dominated in the class. Frustration mixed with determination to make a possible masterpiece were obviously transparent on their hopeless faces. Dassah who eventually ended her write-up stood up from her armchair, and submitted it to her English teacher. 

Ma'am Rhea was impressed, and took her ample time to read her three-stanza poem. As she perused Dassah's work, she smiled in delight.

"Miss Quinn."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I have a dumb question," the instructor said. She glanced at her unknowing student in mischief, and continued her talk.

" Are you in love?"

"NO WAY, MA'AM," Dassah yelled at her teacher. Her classmates instantly shifted their gaze at the two. She became flustered, and softly spoke, "Umm... Sorry, ma'am. I was just shocked. But, no, I am not, ma'am."

"And what makes you think that I'm uh..."

Ma'am Rhea replied, still smiling, "In love?"

Dassah slowly nodded in embarrassment,"Uh-huh."

"It's just my assumption. It seems the message of your poem conveys about a clichè romance like this love at first sight kind of scene. Ah. Reminds me of my first young love,"  Ma'am Rhea Azuela said, feeling the nostalgia of her past teen era.

"And, what's even more interesting is that I instructed you to have a poem that talks about your life encounters." Dassah's teacher continued.

"Then, I thought I might be wrong, so which is why I asked you."

Dassah again nodded as an abiding servant, and the English teacher spoke again herself, "So, mind if I ask you the story behind this piece of yours?"

"Um... Sure, Ma'am. But, it already says it all," Dassah said.

"It's basically this. I met a guy at a convenience store, and I did not forsee anything that we would see each other for the second time around. And for me, I was happy it happened for the both of us."

Ma'am Rhea could no longer hide her squeals, and let it out without any reservation.

"Oh, ignore my giggles. The story was too cute. But hey, Miss Quinn. This is your prize," she commented, and gestured her to move closer. Dassah came near to her instructor in obedience.

"You'll present it to the other class."

"Ma'am?!" Dassah exclaimed in terror.

"Shh... Don't tell anyone," she warned the young lady.

"But, but..."

Ma'am Rhea smiled, and said, "You may go back to your seat, Miss Quinn."

Dassah heaved a sigh of defeat, and move herself back to her armchair.  Floating her countless regrets of submitting her poem, the young lady had enough of the trap, and let the situation sail by itself.

Dassah Quinn had left no choice but to stay with a perfect stranger. Yearning for someone who would help them get out of trouble and leave the olden storage room is her gleam of hope. 

In the course of incarceration, Dassah unexpectedly entailed herself in a scheme of discerning the nondescript man, One One.

A fiber of connection from miles away...



Our places on this earth are divided by oceans setting us apart from one continent to another. Several countries speaking several languages to understand each other. People with several cultures and beliefs. Different personalities and opinions.

In this chaotic world, we live in called real life we search for a place to escape from that reality. To be accepted as who or what we are. We have found that in the music we sing. In the books, we read. In the movies we watch. In the places, we travel and visit. Everywhere in which we get inspiration to face reality head-on.

We write stories or poems to inspire others, reading the words we weave from our own world. For some of us, it is simply an escape from reality into a world in which we can use our imaginations to dream make-believe or to live our secret fantasies or just plain be creative.

Getting on the web gives us more ways to share and get connected to other people with the same kind of thinking from across the ocean. Some of the people we meet along the way give us reasons to smile again. It's where we become friends, get to know them well, and get so close that we even trust them enough to share our own greatest fears.

I was a living a kind of living death when I found solace here on Stories Space. A place to write, camouflaging my hatred and sadness from myself when I was reading all the poetry and fictional fantasies created by the writers. I found another escape from reality and indulged in reading.

My feelings from my own troubles in life had made me feel so empty that only through laughter and reading could I be free and somewhat whole again.

I made my own heaven in purgatory.

A friend told me to write down all of my pains and troubles in poems or stories. Another friend of mine told me to be fierce in my poetry writing. I found friends who helped me give my own life a reason to continue living again through writing.

Writing makes me calm every time my mind gets into a panic mode. The pains and the fears of the unknown are my muses for writing.

When I met someone who understood me and made me feel needed and loved my poetry changed its tune. It made me think of happy thoughts. I got inspired by the things I saw and the happy memories of my childhood that I could write about.

Painful memories and realities were always there and so I wrote about them from time to time.

When that someone left me I continued writing. The same inner muse I had gained I used to keep on writing.

Then, out of nowhere, I got to know you. I became happy again. This time I got even more inspired and more creative, experimenting with my writings.

I set aside my shyness and reservations to write creatively. I still can't overcome some of my shyness and reservation but I am blooming, inspired by you.

You became my muse.

The man in the moon. The stars in my darkest hours. When at night I can't sleep thinking of you calms me to sleep.

The sunshine after the heavy storm. Where all the dead trees come to life again. That keeps me warm when everything gets chilly.

My own little heaven in my real life purgatory.

Writing...

Rune's Prose & Poetries

LUCID DREAMS

my wandering crazy mind is just doodling in the sands...

it's just me ...this is a collection of my amateurish writings of poetry, short stories, and prose...

These are all short stories compilation a different story per chapter.

WARNING: Adult contents, please be advised that you're reading EROTICA


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
RuneMcGrey
Copyright©2014-present

All writings remains MEG Cabingan a.k.a. RuNe also known as runemcgrey's property.
Don't use it for any other purposes without her permission.

This chapter has not been edited. Please forgive me for any typos or grammatical errors. 

******************

Walking into the front door all eyes where on me, apparently I was the 'new girl'. I guess being home schooled gave you some qualities, you don't care about anything or anyone but yourself. 

And that was how I was feeling now. Although I'm not the finest girl in planet earth but I think am at the average scale with dark hair and blue eyes, I'm 5'6 i think that's  pretty good for my age and my body is not like kim k's but I have curves at the right places. 

So as I was walking down the hall to get my schedule, I didn't care about the thousand eyes that was on me accessing my looks, or the snickering I heard behind my back, i just kept walking forward. 

I got to the office and a blonde average height woman with green eyes who looked to be in her mid 30's was sitting behind a desk and she had a welcoming smile on so I felt relaxed "you must be Alex" she babbled "yeah" I replied"okay my name is Anita Thomas, welcome to ghs, here's your schedule" she gave it to me and continued "feel free to ask anyone for help or directions, and you can come back here anytime" she finished "yeah sure, thanks" I said with a smile and  left the office "have fun" she chirped. 

Walking into the hall, I looked at my schedule and I had math, English, Chen, biology, history then cafeteria. After that it was art, physics and creative writing. I sighed,talk about stressful. I looked for my locker and imputed my combination and dropped some of my books inside and stopped a random girl and asked her where the math class was, fortunately for me she offered to take me there. 

After walking through different halls and corners I saw a door with a big maths sign in the door. I thanked her and she left, only for me to open the door and I fell face first on the floor. 

*****************

cheers 
Evie💕

Been locked at home always
Homeschooled 
No friends around
Not allowed to go out
Most definitely NO BOYS ALLOWED. 


That was the life of Alexandria, 18 and a senior in high school. 
She doesn't talk to anyone and has never spoken to a boy before, not to talk less have her first kiss before. 


But would all that change when the new boy comes to town? 
Cole Ryder, dark, mysterious and sexy
 A rule breaker

Would he help Alex out of her misery, or would he break all the rules that has been laid out for her.

"…sitting behind is care, but no effort left is there to share."
                One of the girls the room definitely recites her poem the least emotion. That last line tells everything why. Almost eight students have been called in front, and so far, their language is flawless. Most of them must have been to a state of America or Australia, but the Asian accent still finds its way to be felt between their words. Everyone is expectant to be called as Mr. Hwang once again stands in the middle of the front aisle.
                "Thank you Karen. And for the last presenter, let's have…"
                I can feel his intention to call on me. The willingness in the faces of my classmates is not strong enough to overpower my intimidation to be called in front. And without a doubt…
                "Marcus, please recite to use your poem that we may have a glance of who you are."
                Everyone is, once again, clapping at this new student who is the most foreign of all. The mere minute left for me to write has not given me enough time to artfully word the obscurity of my gender.
                Amidst the overflowing fear to be hated, I stand before these new faces who have no clue who is about to speak to them. South Korea is known to be one of the most conservative nations of this modern world, and what I am about to tell them will definitely alter their view—and to which direction, I am not sure.
There is a heart that beats
Covered by skin and muscles inside my chest.
For all, it works to provide life.
For some, it pumps to keep themselves alive.
For few, it throbs for someone else's love.
For me, it beats under my chest
Still unsure of which it for exists.
                I anticipate my speech to end in silence, but the burst of applause tells me that they did not grasp the hidden message that lingers with those words. They may have been amazed by the integration of elements in writing a good literature, but their focus to that makes me upset because the essence of my poem has not been savored accordingly.
                Nonetheless, Mr. Hwang's eyes whisper a message of understanding and worry. This gesture explains how much competent he is for this subject because he has the ears and eyes to discern.
                I thank the bell for ringing right on time. With that, I have a plausible reason to escape from the hook of everyone's attention. I rush to grab my things from my seat and pretend to take my time putting them back to my bag. I should feign being slow to buy them time to leave the room.
                "Marcus, your poem is substantial and creative." Mr. Hwang compliments when everyone has left the room except me.
                "Inside you is a poet whose composition is destined to be heard. To be written in just few minutes, your poem is just great."
                "…and brave." A third person's voice cuts my conversation with Mr. Hwang.
                His subtle movements make I and Mr. Hwang believe we were alone in the room. Nonetheless, there sits the tall guy whose desk is opposite of mine. But the growing pace of my heartbeat is not caused by his presence, I assessed. It is his comment which rushes the rhythm of my breathing.
                I know I am required to give the next comment, but there is nothing in my mind now that I can grasp to tell. Good thing the tall guy leaves the room right after he feels the awkward atmosphere.
                
                In all the classes I have for this day, that last class is the most memorable. By that, I mean, a bittersweet-kind of memory. Until now, my thoughts are hovering around the quick comments I received from being myself. I wonder how bare that line was.
       Still unsure of which it for exists.
                It can mean "unsure" of which person it is existing for. It can be that girl who attended the same school as I back in elementary, or that other girl who lives next to us back in the Philippines. However it can mean, I know in myself that it means it is unsure whether a man or woman it exists for… and two of the people in that room understood what I meant. Mr. Hwang's reaction has an embrace of encouragement, while that guy's comment does not clearly reveal anything at all. And that mere thing makes it even worse to think about.
                The depth of my introspection allows me to reach the dormitory unwittingly. There I stand in front of the door to room 408, thanks to that other guy in the elevator for assisting me find the place faster.
                On that door, there is my name and someone named "Kim Seung Min". He clearly is Korean, I thought. My roommate, I hope, is the best person I will ever meet in this country.
I tap the card that guy handed me in class. The door produces some sound which tells me it is unlocking. I clutch the knob. The room is more stunning than I expected! It is bright and very conducive for learning and writing those masterpieces I am about to create.
I remove my shoes before entering the bedroom proper as Korean culture has taught me. I caress most of the furniture in the room, and the mere touch of them shows me "heaven"!
I have never lived in this kind of luxurious room! I sniff the luxurious air that lingers inside my new room for almost a year. The scent is so aromatic that my eyes unconsciously closed themselves to heighten the moment's feeling. But that grand moment is snipped by the opening of the bathroom door.
Surprisingly, it is that tall guy in the classroom.
More surprisingly, he seems to know I am his roommate and my presence does not seem to bother him at all.
And Most surprisingly, he is not wearing anything at all!
                Let me correct myself. He is wearing his nude boxers. Sorry for the wrong info.

In that land he barely knew, he convinced himself to dare to play the most dangerous game. It is either he falls or he fails. Love just cant be won over.

A young woman in mid-20s was sitting before a photo frame She wore an eye-catching white dress, and her silky loose hair and milky shiny skin resemble like an angel. Tears were coming out from her eyes... And she reminisces about her past. 

---------------------------
(Flash Back)

Inside a Concert Hall-

Through the crowd, one Boy and one Girl saw each other. Call it what you want: fate, kismet or destiny, but it was a beautiful thing what happened next. 

The Girl was scanning the crowd, She noticed an extremely attractive guy looking in her direction.  
They kept staring and smiling at each other throughout the concert until finally, he waved to her. she instantly had butterflies, and she knew that had to meet him. Since she didn't have a pass to get down to the floor section where his seats were, she pulled out her phone and pointed at it. she then used her hands to sign her phone number to him from across the crowd and he texted her! 
Through her creative method, they were able to start communicating with each other. 

It sounds easier than it was to read the hand signals through the crowd, but when he finally got the number, he started texting her right away. 

"Hey! Did I get it right?" was the first text he sent over. 

 "This would be awkward if you didn't." She jokingly responded 

 "Haha yes, it would! I'm Chu Feng :)" Next came introductions.

 "I'm Xia Xiangwei. Nice to meet you :)."  She quickly responded 

They continued to text throughout the concert and made plans to meet up afterward. There were instant fireworks between the couple in person and they made plans for a real date that same week. 

After dating for two blissful years,

Chu Feng Proposed Xia Xiangwei and Xiangwei accepted but their families were against their Marriage so they eloped and married but fate had some other plans for them. On the night of their honeymoon, They got into a car accident.

Xia Xiangwei only had a few scratches but Chu Feng's body was filled with Glass shards because he used his body as the shield to save Xiangwei. 

He gathered his last bits of strength and said: "Wei'er...*Cough* After I die...*Cough* I want you to go...*Cough* back to your family and... *Cough* restart your life... Farewell my Love..." were the last words of Chu Feng

-----------------------------------------------

*Tring... Tring... Tring*

While the young woman was reminiscing about her past. She heard the sound of the door bell and she came back to present. She looks at the wall clock it was 11:58 of the night. She Cleared her Tears went to near the intercom to see who was outside the door but what shocked was that no one was outside... 

Is someone playing a prank on her? that's what she thought.

She ignored the bell, and she slowly turned around and was about to go inside her room... Then again...

*Tring*

The Door Bell's sound Again echoed inside the house and a little Girl Came out from another room.

This Little Girl was Daughter of Chu Feng and Xia Xiangqi.

"Mommy... who is outside? why are you not opening the door?" Xiangqi asked curiously.

"Xiao Qi, no one is outside the door. I already saw through the intercom. Maybe someone is playing the prank on us doorbell is broken. you go inside and sleep." 

*Ding Dong* 

Both Daughter and Mother again heard a Sound but this time it was coming from the Wall Clock. 

"The 12 O'clock. I clearly remember that... ," Xiangwei 

*Cr...ea...k...*

Before she could finish her sentence. She heard the sound of the door opening from her behind.

When she turned around, she saw a young man was smile at her.

First She was shocked, and she Started Crying and ran toward the man who was standing near the door smiling at her.

"Darling!!!" She yelled out loud.

"Papa!!!" Xiangqi.

Both Mother and daughter embraced The young man before them tightly.

"Eh?!!!" Young Man

Hearing the words came out from mother and daughter's mouth made Young man Dumbfounded. He Almost Forgot that he was embraced by mother and daughter. 

--------------------

I could care less about what people think. I'm a Devil Without A Cause. 

See you guys Later... I Still have to write chapters for my other novels. This is my first time writing a   Romance novel.

This is the story of a man who becomes the devil and falls in love with a woman in the different world. (Temporary Synopsis)

"The devil's finest trick is to persuade you that he does not exist."

If you guys like my work Leave me a tip or buy me a coffee.

https://ko-fi.com/keikokumar

Thank you guys...

I am sitting the game system, in discord...  I just need suggestions cuz my brain is closed... PLZ HELP!  
I finished writing the basics of the EXP system, and now stuck in the elemental system (almost done, but need some creative ideas!) 

After I finish writing the new game system, I will proceed with the re-write... so the more you help me, the faster I can start writing!  (Discord Link both in comments and in writer's note!)

Voidne is the unluckiest person in the world.  Just like his mother, he needs to work 5 times harder than normal people, just to achieve the same thing.

But one day the unlucky Voidne crossed through a wormhole by a mistake, that sent him into a parallel universe to occupy the body of the Voidne from that universe.

The new parallel universe was more advanced, and a new game was about to get released.  It was a VRMMORPG, that is going to be super popular.  Even companies were going to fight over occupying this game.

Voidne who was the unluckiset person in the world, is now the luckiest person in the world...  

See how Voidne's life will change!

I am a 13 year old who loves reading .I thought that I cold give a try in writing and here I am .Never expected anyone to read my book and Thank you to all who read it.I live in India so we have English as our first language so there won't be many grammatical mistakes.We have compulsory creative writing in English so all of us are used to writing lame stories.I know currently nothing much is happening in the story but I can assure that by the weekend the story will get interesting.

what if, your marriage was not your own choice

I've never really written about myself before. I don't know if it's cause I don't really value myself enough? Or because I'm not a narcissist? I think I over think myself.

Can you tell I'm a little odd? Well I've never really wanted to do anything, not anything worth value anyway. I mean I've got no skills to speak of, this is really the only thing I really enjoy. Except for other... slightly less acceptable things. (if you catch my drift)

I am a writer, and not a very good one. But lets get into this.

I love writing, when I was a highschool student I found it as a kind of... escape. writing that first story helped this shitty Author through a lot of deep shit I will get into later.

So, ever heard of Wattpad? Well that's where it all started for me. I was introduced to the app by a mutual friend of mine, lets call her H. She was writing Adult stories, use in the business call... Smut. it's kind of like fifty shades of grey with terrible writing. She asked a Friend and I to read it, and I did. But the first thing that was on my mind was that I wanted to do that.

NO NOT WHAT SHE WROTE ABOUT. I wanted to take a crack at writing, English was one of my favorite subjects in school. I loved reading but had an average reading level. So, I set up a Wattpad account. My first account has a pretty weird name, all because I rushed it.

I needed a name for the app, I was too embarrassed to go by my real name. So I used my Ps4 user name. RedisDead, but I fucking spelt it Readisdead. That was my first account.

Now the only time I had ever tried my hand at writing was in the 8th grade, creative writing section of English. Plus it was a short story, so I was running on ideas that were pretty, cliche. 

Story Number 1- Prince of the Sun and Moon
I wanted to say that this story does not in fact, have anything to do with the sun or moon. I wrote this because I was on an Anime binge, specifically magic Academy ones. Remember the magic Academy thing, that will be a main concept for my other "creations" later.

I don't really know what to say about this one, it's one my first stories and was my first attempt at fantasy. Let me tell you, I can't get enough of fantasy. Nothing makes you feel better about your sad life than creating a new one for your imaginary characters to run wild in.

Thinking back to how I was then... I feel bad, I was going through a lot of emotional problems. 

I was a shut in, I can't say for certain what happened but one day I just decided I would rather stay inside my room then go outside and play. I never really made friends, but being bullied by everyone in your grade can cause that. People were always nice in highschool though, I think they might have felt bad. Or they were making themselves look better infront of everyone else. Being nice to the weird kid, congrats.

So, you can guess that if I didn't like those people you bet your ass I never felt attracted to anybody. But I did fall for a new kid. 

Will call her K for now. That smile... she was weird, but a hot kind of weird you know? She was quirky and funny and had a face that made my heart melt like butter in a microwave. She was chubby too, like a cute little marshmallow.

But looks can be deceiving. Wish I would have known that before falling in love but hey, does anyone?

She wasn't always a terrible person. But my class has a way of bringing the worst out of people. Or maybe it was my fault? 

Fuck, if your reading this what would you say K? I need the answers but we don't talk.

okay, lets look at this from my perspective.
She was always nice to me, I mean REALLY nice. laughing at my stupid jokes and always greeted me with a smile. But my dumb idiot brain did register that SHE FUCKING LIKED ME!!

Okay so eventually she started wearing longer sleeved jackets all the time, she started acting differently. Started ignoring me occasionally, called me annoying and being rude.

Then I saw something that broke my heart. Her arms, they were sliced up. Not alot but still, she was cutting. I expressed my concern for her but she gave me the cold shoulder. 

A couple weeks go by and she skips school here and there I don't see her, then the day that makes me hate myself. Now I promise you, she did not kill herself. This is not one of those stories.

I'm excited she's back at school and I see her again. I catch her when she's taking off her hoody and... She lost weight, alot of weight.

It finally hit, she's dealing with depression. But why? Did someone call her fat or something? 
This pisses me off, I'm a pacifist by nature at this point but I'm ready to throw down.

But now that I have a little more clarity on the situation, I sometimes think me. 
See a couple months later I make a new friend. Call this guy... F.

He's tall and actually funny once you get to know him. He's actually still one of my closest friends.

I introduce F to K, they hit it off and eventually start dating. I kind of stop talking to F because he starts dating the girl I'm in love with but that's not important.

what is the fact that a month or two into them dating that K tells me something. Something that spirals me into a deep depression for a long time.

K-"So do you like me?"
Me-"yeah your one of my best friends!"
K-"you know what I mean like LIKE me. Because when I first met you I had feelings for you."

What the actual fuck? She's dating my BEST FUCKING FRIEND and tells me this shit? Not cool man, is this some kind of way to torture me?

Ever since they got together she seemed to be back to normal. So I was happy, but deep down I wished I was him. Comment if you ever felt like this. I would love to talk to someone about it.

Honesty? I felt pathetic, worthless. If I had worked up the courage I would be the one getting kissed. I kept telling myself I wasn't ready. But forget how I felt, lets go back to K.

she had suddenly lost weight. Alot of weight, treated me different.

Is it my fault? Did she think I didn't feel that way because she was slightly over weight? She dropped the weight because of me. That's how I felt but right now, I know that's the case. She didn't really care about me or F all she cared about was herself. Get all the attention she believed she needed. She had Mommy issues. 

Think I'm being harsh? She straight up cheated on F and broke up with him. Then to make matters worse... She ran away for two weeks.

This unfortunate series of events destroyed F, he hated himself. Let's put the kind of man he was into perspective. He didn't take shit from anyone, he liked to laugh and was happy to make others laugh. But when she ran away from home he locked up.

I'm not using names on purpose, because I don't want people who I know to read this and get mad. But I want to tell you this, the human heart is fragile. 

I say this because we laugh about it now. F, I'm glad your alive man.

F was five feet from killing himself. He went home the day he found out and dug out his dads old 45. He was ready to pull that trigger.

F is a strong ass dude, he managed to put the gun down. Put it away, he's only ever told me this. So for the sake of my friendship... Don't read this F. 

Well. That's all for now my friends, I'd tell you more but I think it got a little dark there.

Kind of a set of me talking about... well me and my Boring life as someone who found a way to cope with life by writing

inside creative writing

Creative Writing: A Creative and Abnormal Teacher

If Life Was a Book

Follow You With Warmth

LUCID DREAMS

ALEXANDRIA

LOVE IN A FOREIGN LAND

Devil, I Love You!

Luckiest person in the world! Re-Write SOON

WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME BACK

Truthful stories of my "love life"

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