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My Failed Attempt at Becoming a Writer

Updated: Jul 4, 2023

So here's the thing. I write. But I'm never able to finish anything at all. Throughout the number of times that I have failed to complete one piece, I have learned to accept that I may never be able to write one full story without jumping to write on another ... OR maybe I'm not just a gifted storyteller or writer at all.

My brain is a chaotic mess of stories and prompts, and if I don't pen them down, they fade from memory. As someone who doesn't like to waste one potential prompt, I immediately pick up the pen and proceed with it. And on and on it goes with the rest of the stories muddled in my brain until I can't find it in me to complete one story to another. So, instead of letting them rot in my drive, I'm posting them here.

Feel free to criticize my work, but please do not steal them from me. I am not a very nice person if someone crosses me 🤭

Unfinished Story No. 1:


In the silent abyss where he drifted, the darkness welcomed him, voiding him from his sorrows, regrets, and pain. A sense of calm washed over him --- such peace was a stranger and surprise to Aegidius that even a minute drop of it burned and overwhelmed him in the chasm he was suspended in. He gasped for air, hopelessly grasping for a sprinkle of violence, a grapple of cruelty that he was solely familiar of. Yet on and on he drifted, bathing in a sensation that was foreign to him, as the darkness around him continues to envelope him in its cool, silk tendrils. He was falling, losing his grasp to a reality far from his reach. He raises a desperate hand up in the hopes that he escapes his perdition. A hand clasps around his, strong and warm against the clamminess and callousness of his. He clings unto it with utter desperation --- an anchor in his own personal chasm.
"Aegidius." A soft, concerned yet steely voice breaks through the bleakness, a familiar caress against the walls and mirrors of his mind. He knew who it belonged to despite having sunk into an endless pit of destructive calm --- a voice from a woman who knew him well enough to join him in his damnation, share the burden of it, and devour in the wildness of it all. Aegidius slowly breaks through the rough surfaces of his nightmare, with the faint sound of ripples echoing through the calm stream of Verdin, and the soft sigh of relief from the woman above him --- her hand, white from the firm grip Aegidius had on her; her hair, a curtain of comfort glowing with shades of gold when hit by sunlight; her lap, a soft cushion to his fading headache.
He couldn't quite believe it yet --- Lyanna, with all her light and fiery determination, was gently holding the very enemy whom she'd sworn to destroy. It painted an irony of what Aegidius thought things would have gone through instead --- a rejection that would spear whatever's left of his heart --- yet from where they stood on that raft just a few moments ago, albeit a simulation designed from memory, in the grace of her eyes he found the swirling colors of her internal conflict. Her dagger's blade, roughly pressed against the most vulnerable part of his neck, would leave nothing but another scar should she wish to pierce him --- one that he was willing to keep, to display, and to remind him of his connection with her.
He remembered deafening silence. The thundering of heartbeats. Time standing still. The open sea hushing its harsh waves. The utter stillness of anticipating what he knew would come through a storm of words that would shatter his aspirations. Yet with a subtle twist of cosmic fate, may it be the work of the Gods, Lyanna slid her dagger from his throat, down to his chest. A determining pause. He remembered what he thought of her at that moment: beautiful, divine. He caught his breath, unable to think as her eyes pierce him with a hatred that solely belonged to him. She travels the blade up, barely scratching his skin but close to drawing blood. She moves it across his left shoulder, tracing the network of veins down his arm, and finally places the flat of its blade unto his palm, meeting her own. Like twin souls who knew the other's intention, Aegidius closes his hand around Lyanna's, the force of it causing the blade to cut through their skins as two red tendrils entwine the blade. Neither broke each other's gazes, and in the stillness of the vast open sea, the last words he heard reverberated through his soul, "You and I are bound to each other’s light and shadows."
Like a sudden burst of remembrance, he felt the dull pain of the cut pierce through his senses, bringing him back once again in the cool breeze of Verdin. He lifted his eyes to find her staring at him with a look he could not bring himself to describe. The soft golden glow of the sun crowned her head in a halo, and like a moth drawn to light, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out his hand to touch the soft angles of her face. “You’re still here.” he says, voice cracking.
“I wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Not after this.” She shows him the palm of her hand marred with a fading red gash. Aegidius lowers his hand from her face and sets it next to hers, palm open. Side by side, both gashes looked like an extension of the other; twin scars for souls fated and bound by a cosmic connection shared between them alone.
“You have sought me for years, fought and bled against the very forces who were allied to me, yet …” Aegidius couldn’t find it in himself to continue out of disbelief. He releases a tired sigh and instead asks, “What changed your mind?”
Lyanna remains silent for a moment, lifting her scarred hand to trace Aegidius’s. If one might catch them in such a position, they would’ve painted a picture of a couple in a romantic rendezvous, hiding in the greens and meadows as the songs of birds and the burbles of the stream beneath them drown their hushed voices. But such was not the scene shared by conventional lovers, for there was nothing ordinary with the Dark Lord and the Lady of Light. 

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