- S. R.
- 6 word story #4, S. R.
- 6 word story #3, S. R.
“We [artists] aren’t people, not the way most people are. We’re just…carriers. Little boats bringing goods from foreign lands.”
- Sam Starbuck
- -6 word story #2, S. R.
Before the freaks of nature came along, the world was entirely black and white. There were never any surprises or shocks. No unnaturally large flower buds. No babies born with Heterochromia.
Then the freaks were born.
The first butterflies born with the entire spectrum of colour on their wings, the first babe born with he ability to recite an entire paragraph just seven months after birth, the first leopard born with far less spots than the average cat. So many quirks emerged in this planet. And maybe on other planets as well. There was no more line between the black and the white. They blurred together to form a beautiful grey.
These oddities and strangelings introduced so many shades of grey to, what was, a monotonous world of black and white. Human perception of the world changed. And on the rare occasions, certain peculiars would arrive. Peculiars who would add a splash of blinding colour to humanity. And these creatures are the most precious souls you could ever imagine meeting. With their beautiful hearts and odd thinking, is it any wonder how they could change the course of humanity’s river.
But the coming of oddities was paired with the arrival of human cruelty. Young misfits would try to fit in with the average crowd, but would be pushed down by harsh words so often until their knees bled. Elderly peculiars would spend the rest of their years suffocating because of the wall of human ignorance constantly closing in on them. Voices of the souls damned to eternal normalcy would echo in their heads to the point where they would trip over the edge of sanity they were dangling on.
The hearts of these lovely creatures would crack and crumble. Their minds would be torn up into unidentifiable slivers. Their soul would be burn to ashes which would melt into the rocks that would bruise their beautiful hearts.
I ask for all the people reading this very sentence to just read the next few very carefully. These creatures are precious. These oddities are what make the world so beautiful. Those weirdoes that you may have beaten up by the sidewalk an hour ago could have changed the course of history. But they didn’t. Just because you destroyed their hopes. That nerd you just threw nasty words at, the one who would get lost in story books and would soon start writing her own enchanting tales, would start hurting her own beautiful body because of you words that left a scar on her heart.
Because they bring colour to this world.
PS. Just because they brought colour into this world as they were born, doesn’t mean you can’t bring colour into this world by continuing to live and create enchanting things. Nurture yourself. Protect yourself. Love yourself.
Want to know a secret?
This is all a game.
Starving yourself to the bone,
lighting up your lungs with cigarettes,
having drugs bring you to your knees.
It is all a game.
A twisted ploy society has carved for every human being on this planet. We blame society for all our mistakes. But at the end of the day, we are society. We are what make up this twisted society. This little game of ours has been designed by our own brain. Your mind has betrayed you to the point where you find yourself spiralling down to your own personal hell.
We have attempted to put the blame on our misery on the many people living and breathing around us. We tell ourselves that we have been unwillingly influenced by these demons that walk the earth today. But in fact, these demons never existed. There are demons, but they’re the kind you can’t see. They’re in your head. They constantly cut up your very sanity to see slivers of your soul falling around them, while they just laugh at your expense. The Devil enjoys seeing helpless human souls crumble to dust at the slightest touch. These demons enjoy seeing you crumble. Society laughs at you falling. You wait for your own body to burn.
We will never be able to win this cruel game. We may level up with the occasional salary raise and reciprocation of love. But we are not in control. We will never be in control. We will continue to watch helplessly as the shells we are forced to call our bodies, walk everyday through a war without a bulletproof vest. All those words that you hear in your head calling yourself useless, fat, ugly, hopeless, disgusting, sick, insane and retarded. You are calling yourself that because that is what they want you to believe. They will continue to watch you suffer while they laugh. They shall laugh for eternity at our expense because, at the end of the day, we are nothing. We will always be nothing. We can try to put the blame at others and try to justify our tiny victories. But people shall always fight battles with our own minds and the tiny victories just mean winning back a sliver of sanity.
The demons like watching us crumble.
Society wants to see us topple.
Our minds are expecting us to fall.
We are waiting for our own bodies to burn.
This is all a game.
A sick and sweet game.
And I have lost.
- S. R.