Creative Writing: Facing The White Zetsu

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

She simply nodded back, smiling tightly and hoping her brown hair would fall into her eyes thus hiding her face but it was pinned back. She mentally kicked herself for pinning her bangs back this morning. “So what do you have?” His older brother asked. “Honestly, it's kinda strange. The girl was drained of blood then dumped behind a dumpster.” She looked up at him and only him. “So vamp?” He asked in a quiet tone. She shook her head at his question and received a quizzical look in return. “There’s no bite mark so I’m assuming it was a Djinn.” “But why would a Djinn dump the body?” The younger one jumped in. Her heart stopped for a moment. She didn’t expect him to speak to her, she hoped that they’d never really speak to one another. It hurt just being in his presence much less having him actually speak to her. She shrugged, not trusting herself to actually speak to him. “Are you sure it's a Djinn?” The older of the two asked me. “If you have a better suggestion, please, do tell.” She had snapped at him. He didn’t flinch or even look upset by her comment but gave her a sympathetic look. She let out a sigh before

Then some of people noticed a new guest, dress as a clothes of the Red Death. Everyone was freaking out because of him. When Prince Prospero saw this guy, he became angry and asked courtiers to seize him and unmask him. But no one have the courage to do it, including Prospero himself. The Red Death walked through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Prospero chased him with taking his dagger. Prospero reached the edge of the dark room, the Red Death suddenly turned to face him, and Prospero fell on the ground and dead. "Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony

Warm crimson ran down her arm leaving a metallic smell that filled the room to the brim. The silver slit of metal she used slipped out of her hand as her vision became blurred and her breathing became faint. She slowly came in and out of consciousness while her arms held a passage for her demons to escape from. She woke once again to feel a pounding in her head that consumed her thoughts, she tried yelp for help but only a small groan came out.

All the memories of her mother started replaying in her head, as the world started going dark, she felt tear roll down her face as she closed her

She felt lighter as she descended towards the lobby as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. But she didn’t question the feeling, instead she embraced it as she thrust onwards to the unknown.

As her heart stutters out weak, agonizing beats, she sees the distorted figure once again. She strains her eyes with the last remnants of her strength, but once she recognizes who the figure is, she wishes she hadn’t. Ignorance truly is bliss; she thinks, as her life slips away. She realizes who had caused her to fall—who had caused her to die?

An immense pressure bore on her confused mind, feeling like a lost soul in the depths of hell. Her vision swam into focus as her eye adjusted to the dim light, coming from some crack in the wall, but only for a minute, before it dwindled like a dying star, brining darkness once more. The world around her was like a distorted night sky, gyrating across rippling oceans waves, lit by the moon.

I can hear screams around me, wrapping me in a blanket of loud screeching. I can't leave. The black abyss surrounds me, and I can see myself standing in the midst of it all, panic stricken. The screaming continues to circle around me until I hear voices floating in the abyss. I see the letters begin to encircle me, floating over me like a tornado ready to strike.

Sky’s breathing was heavy as she dragged herself into her seat, blood poured from her newly broken nose. And her eyes glazed over, she welcomed the darkness; maybe this time she’d finally go home. Memories replayed in her head.

She trotted out into the splintering cold. It was so cold. It was freezing. Morgan could feel her legs rubbing against her thick, double layered jeans. It felt like if she continued walking any farther, she would rub her legs raw. She could see her breath as she exhaled in the chilling air. She could smell the crisp snow outside, and could feel the sting of the wind on her nose. And oh that wind, it was like a whip that never stopped lashing. Every time it stopped, you got a slight, fleeing sense of relief but it was never quite satisfying because you just know another killer ice-cold gust is

“That is indeed where I got it.” The confession seemed strained. Cath looked up, her eyes were close to tears.

She stayed away for as long as she could. Fighting towards the light, screaming and clawing in an attempt to get away from the body that was sucking her back in. The body that was supposed to be hers, but had ceased to be a sanctuary was calling her. It had become a joke, a cruel punch line, dangling release before her then snatching it away the moment before she reached it. She was desperate to escape the life that she had been imprisoned in and she fought every time even though she knew it was useless.

But what really left her to ponderment was how to wake up from it. She attempted once or twice to let out some kind of sound to at least give herself a start: not even a whimper or a cry left her in that moment. Instead she could only hear a whisper, not her own but that of a stranger; starting as a soft sound in her ear and slowly reaching an echoed loudness in her mind, while an anonymous clutch became tight around her throat. It was nothing, yet somehow she’d now been drowning in it like a sea of an unknown substance. She felt no state of fatigue present, like some constant unwavering torture of sorts. First she turned right, as the breathe drained from