Press Shift+Enter for multiple line breaks.

This is just a small collection of short stories, some of which I've published before on here, I will be adding more as time progresses.

An early childhood friendship ended too short. Hikaru Akai now finds herself trying to remember what happened 10 years ago. And figure out who this ghost is that's following her around.

In a small Japanese town , a student passed away rumours plagued the school and it's students suggesting the student who died found the missing journal of a murdered student named Akumu and once you read her journal it predicts your death slowly consuming your sanity until you eventually see Akumu herself , then she takes your life to add to her collection of stories.

What will happen next?

"In this beautiful book of poems, the author takes you on a journey through the world of love. From beginning to end, the reader immerses themselves in a world of passion, emotions, and love, narrated with words that will leave you breathless. These verses convey the warmth and intensity of feelings that arise in the heart when in love, helping you to connect more deeply with your emotions. Anyone who has ever felt love will find themselves in these verses, while those seeking love will find hope and inspiration. This book will guide you back to the heart of love, where the most beautiful things in life are found."

🌈

Henry Cross, the highly esteemedadventurer, explorer, archaeologist, and pilot, 4-in-1, goes on an adventure to the Mariana Islands. However, this is an alternate universe where the islands are uninhabited and isolated from the civilized world due to the area's highly unpredictable weather patterns.

It's funny how the world looks different when you know it will be the last time you ever experience any of its qualities. We live life in the modern world as repetitive and dull as possible – we forget that we are the creation of nature. I don't think I ever really grasped that concept. We are connected to each other in ways that were never thought possible – only imagined by the most creative minds – that allows me to instantaneously speak to someone across the world and hear of disastrous miracles as they happen no matter where they happen. We, humans, man, people, beings – whatever you like to call yourself or others – have become intertwined as a race. Becoming a machine society has separated us from the truth. The truth is that we are not the world; we think we are independent of the earth and its complexity and have become the host, bestowing ourselves the privilege of altering and commanding all that belongs to nature. Wow, I sound like one of those activists who glue themselves to streets and dye rivers or destroy works of art. I am not one of them. In fact, like most people, I quite dislike those people. It may be the fact that I am walking to a place where my eyes will capture life for the last time that I may have some understanding of what those delusional people were spouting. However, I still love the things we have created and the world we have formed. I don't hate the inventions we have made to better our lives – playing video games or binging movies are or were my favourite things. We are intelligent life forms and therefore have the right to build, innovate, create and imagine. It only occurs to me now that we have lost that flame in each of us that connected us to nature – to living. Have we lost humanity? I don't know if that is the right word; humanity is too ambiguations. Humanity means many things to many different people. Some believe it entails that we as humans have the ability to sympathise or emphasise – maybe, but I have seen other forms of life show care, love and empathy – others connotate humanity to man's means of creativity, to the power of imagination. I can see how this can be thought of as something unique to our race, yet how are animals able to build dams or nests, sing songs to their potential mate, create erotic dance rituals or learn new ways of gathering food if they did not possess this 'power of creation and imagination'. To be honest, I don't know what the humanity signifies. I only had a year of philosophy an undergraduate – one of those professors, I am sure, will provide ample insight on the matter. For now, let's stick with my thoughts on the matter. When I say that we have lost what made us human, I mean the fact that we forget to live. It seems that the only people who experience the amazing privilege of being human are artists – true artists, the ones that are mimetic, feared by Plato, admired by Aristotle, prised by Romantics and studied by scholars – people who work with nature and the rich. If we take away all our gadgets, careers and material goods, we resort back to being an intellectual living life form on earth. A form of life that has the ability to reflect on their surroundings and be in awe of the complexities they are a part of – to breathe. That is humanity to me: the ability to know that you are only human. That is precisely what I am engaging in now, the art of being human. While walking to my destination, I have no gadgets, no career I am pursuing and no material obsessions. I am breathing, seeing and feeling; because I am human, I am aware of this and can reflect on it. Because all that has been made mechanical has been stripped away, I have become more entuned to my base form, resulting in all my senses (which I have taken for granted) have been intensified. That, or the realisation that I will never experience the surreal around me, has made me more aware of them. Either way, I will enjoy this. Enjoy the cold air on my skin that has formed small bumps all over, sending a tingling feeling down my body. The hairs on my arm that never made themselves conscious to me are now alive, swaging gently in each direction as if they, too, have been given sight and, like children, are eyeing everything in sight with great amazement. My feet, who were only there to carry me to my monotonous destinations, are not free. Free wonder the ground like a mole – blind but sensitive and with precise direction. Best of all is my eyes. They are truly alive – maybe for the first time since I was a child – and are able to witness life. I don't remember the precise moment my eyes became dormant; I don't even recall my age. I do, however, remember how the world seemed to be alive in everything that came into my vision. I can see life all around me, from the trees to the wind, from the clouds to the small drops of water on each leaf, from the large soaring birds to the smallest insect – all alive and all experiencing life with me. My fingers also seem sensitive; I now realise I never paid attention to the textures around me. The bark feels rugged, and the soil ruffs with every particle scratching my skin. The thing I feel most is the rope in my hands. The fibres caress my fingertips, and their plaited nature is like speed bumps whenever my hand moves over them. It makes my heart race; I can hear it beat faster and faster as my destination draws near. Having monologued to myself again – however, this time, I did not mind – I feel like a modern Wordsworth, and unlike Odin, I have gained the knowledge before the act.

For this full story, I will be writing about the certain times that happened in my life that seemed interesting to me. If I can remember them then I will write them down here for you.

My first short mini fan comic of my oc Adean with a canon character Jake Long.

Je ne sais quoi répondre

Tu ne me l’avais dit

Il s’était caché car moi

Nous étions si comblés ensemble

Vous l’étiez encore plus apparemment

'Ils’ valent plus que ‘nous’

Ils me font pleurer ailleurs

Vous ne méritez ma rancœur

Elle n’existe guère rassurement, heureusement

Tu aurais dû être honnête

J’ai une ruine à restaurer​​​​​​​

Ok so ya know how you’ll be scrolling social media (Pinterest for me!) and you’ll see these writing prompts that look so interesting but don’t acctually have a story. Well then this is the place to be (this will probably be a disaster ngl) I will be taking those prompts and turning them into SHORT stories. This will definatly test my writing skills  might ask? Well to put it simply I suck at writing short stories I like writing longer things but this way you guys as the reader can 1not get bored by my extremely long stories and 2 you will also be able to help me pick the next prompt I write a story for. For the first one tho I’m going to pick it bc otherwise I will be waiting forever to write the story bc I won’t have the prompts. So here is the first prompt I chose and I really hope I don’t screw this up! 😅