SP

They lived in a two-room flat with peeling walls, where it rained inside all day. It rained in the other room, thankfully, so they could sleep in a drier place. The roof leaked so much they referred to that room as the rainforest. The two couldn’t be more different from each other if they tried. They stuck together because they couldn’t afford the rent alone, and no one else wanted them. They had to stick together. But they were very different: the second was rather short, with almost elfish, pointed ears, a smile that bordered on a smirk, twinkling eyes, deep brown eyes, and hair that were cut the right length. He was what one would call a charmer. He could talk the shoes off of a horse. The first, however, was much quieter. He moved slower, and blinked his eyes a lot. He had trouble sleeping too, for his mind was always thinking, though he barely ever spoke. He had always been told by everyone except his mother that he had rather large ears, but his mother had told him to igno...

SEPTEMBER, 2016: It wasn’t a particularly nauseating day, in the typical sense, and yet, when Chamuk woke up in the morning, he felt the uncontrollable urge to commit suicide. It wasn’t a peculiarly nonsensical day, in the traditional style, and yet, when Chasut woke up in the morning, he felt the untameable urge to commit suicide. Thus, both our protagonists got out of bed, with almost a flourish, a smile playing about in their eyes, not a trace of it on their lips. They sat overly long with their first cup of coffee, and yet, downed their second in one testy gulp. With a spring in their step, they left their respective houses, and, as fate would have it, ended up waiting at the same bus stop. In fact, my dear readers, if you’ll allow another little coincidence, they ended up sitting right next to each other while waiting. So, the two little bundles of joy, enthusiastically conjuring up ways to end their respective lives, did not pay much attention to each other, nor even...

The soft pitter-patter of water on a mossy roof. Red staircase. Solar panels where the sun never shines. A rope. Two thin ropes dividing life and a four-storey quick vertical run down. Would need to. Would need two. Heh. Two times four equals eight. Eight stories enough. Eight stories is life. Life is made of eight stories. A boat off of the side of the walls, crawling down. Waterfall. Water. Fall. Fall. Berlin wall. Red staircase. The brick fell from the skies. Dark sarcasm: it is a sponge. A sponge of murk. Mirth. Murk. A murky sponge. Red. Stair. Case. Nutcase. A sponge. Clean your face, he said, and gave me a red sponge. Red tears. Tear down the staircase. It can be used to escape the wall. Red wall. Dead wall. Waterfall. Snap back to reality. The water breaks. The roof falls. Green everywhere. And now orange. And now red. Fire! Fire! Fuel! Fire! Stone. Sink. Like a dog. Stink… If you stare long enough, the world turns into an acid trip ...