Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


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The Panic Project #5 – Special: Meet Hugo

Talking about this  mysterious pal is one of the hardest,
Because Hugo is a character who could be understood the hardest.

He’s a simple guy, yet monstrous and disgusting.
He always appeares whenever I‘m not watching.

Despite his eldritch looks, he seems harmless,
I usually dismiss him, or I should say care more or less.

Though, he creeps ceaselessly into my mind,
Hiking on the mountains of my fantasy through day and night.

He howls, crawls, scratches and bites,
Not caring about the pain that reaches into heights,
Seeking for the sun throughout the endless skies.

These thirteen letters are my name,
Who is now the most hopeless, You or Me?

Next bit of TPP on 18th April 😉


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The Panic Project #4: The Doll House

The cool wind blows gently, flattering the dusty-white frills of my dress, but my fake skin cannot feel it. I am alive but there is no sound echoing in my chest. I can move my limbs, though everything is so big and far away, I cannot reach them no matter how hard I try. My breath gets quicker, though my lungs seemingly cannot get enough air in it. My chest hurts, though there is nothing in it. Only the unbearable weight of emptyness sits calmly on my shoulders. My bones would crack under it, though I can only feel the structure of a hand-made body relentlessly resisting any force.  

The whole world has become transparent and terrifyingly solid at the same time and I got lost in it. Like a huge cage, of which I cannot see or touch the cell bars.

Tears would roll down my delicate face but my shiny eyes remain as dry as a desert. When I try to speak my voice sounds like a far away whisper of a wandering stray ghost. I’m shouting but no one out there can hear me. I would run away but my short legs take me nowhere.

I am silent, sitting unmovingly with my emotionless face, deemed to ceaselessly wait for someone to take me with themselves. But who could be that someone? Who would want such a strange creature I have become?

This cannot be reality… Can it?

Next post on 4th April. Stay tuned!


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The Panic Project #3: Monsters

Crawling in the dark, he steals your most precious possessions without you noticing it.

His deformed shape sheds the most terrible shadows on the purest and most beautiful things. Even he’s walking with a drag he’s faster than her. She feels utter disgust in his presence yet he just crawls closer and closer to her and she cannot do anything about it. No matter how hard she is trying to back down he’s immediately behind her back. He let’s her feel safe for a moment as he is out of sight but as soon as she smells the rotting scent of the gnome, he stabs her right in the heart.

With the golden dagger in her chest, he lets her fall behind. While her blood fills the cracks of the stone floor like little red springs, he stands there doing nothing. And then, comes his master, the purest and most majestic yet the most obscure creature in the world. The exact opposite of the little gnome, his strong presence makes even the botched little beast be afraid.

She’s still lying on the hard and cold floor half-dead, half hearing the conversation between the two. None of them were about to help. All of a sudden, a monstrous face appears in front of her, she cannot decide if it is reality or imagination. Then, a gruff voice starts echoing in her head,

“Do you know who I am?”

Next post on 21 March. Stay tuned!


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The Panic Project #2: Forbidden Game

Dolls are mysterious creatures. They are cute and utterly scary at the same time. Little girls usually befriend them. Pure white porcelain skin and shiny glass eyes with a constant smile. They are fragile, yet the touch of them is cold and hard. They are perfect and beautiful on the surface, yet they are nothing but empty on the inside. Though, they are simple objects, salves tied to invisible strings, used by others the way their puppet masters desire, while preserving the gentle expression on their faces, they are more than ready for a soul to imprison into them.

Their souls, if they have any, are hiding behind their their sweet faces. Looking them in the eyes raises several questions. Who they are really? What may they be thinking of? What story they would tell you if they could speak? Their existence is a mere mystery in itself. But what if they have their own wills, traits and personalities?

A single, seemingly accidental, stab in the chest and our heroine is dead. But has she really died?

Imagine waking up from the worst nightmare of your life. What would you do if you realised that your heart doesn’t beat anymore yet you were somehow still alive? If, all of a sudden, you were trapped in a body that seemingly does not function at all? Would you be scared?

Next post in the category will be published on 7 March. I’ll wait for you!


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The Panic Project: #1 The Beginning

Whenever it comes to writing I don’t like thinking of the story as it is based on my life, experience and so on. It makes me uninterested and binds my imagination. So, even though, the Panic Project is based on my story, at first sight there will be nothing about me in it. The looks and traits of the main character, the background and so on. It is also possible that I am not even the main character but somebody else. You will only be able to find me there if you learn to read between the lines.

The very first chapter of the book is already finished (or at least I wrote it 😛 ) which is about how this whole thing started. Unintentionally, seemingly coincidentally, and by outside effects as well. A bloody start where the darkness appears and endeavours the soul, chaning the life of the main character completely. For me, it is the place where I can let the darkness inside me seen by others without fear. And this is very uplifting. 😉

I don’t want to spoil the story, but I have to tell you one thing. The doll, in that quote will have an important part. Literally or in a figurative sense, you ask? It’s a secret. 😛

That would be all for today. I hope you got interested. 😉

Next post on 21st February. Stay tuned!

 


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I’ve Never Really Been a Good Student

Not only I usually daydreamt during boring classes, but when it came to doing my homework I always wanted to do something else. Even at university, when I had to study for an exam I wanted to study for another one that was scheduled later, and when the later exam was near, again, I wanted to study for another. 😀 It was like hell.

And I still didn’t change. As I’ve said before I write stories about me and my struggles. It is time to post the next story for The Colour Book of Spirits published here. I have the plot in my head and I’ve already started working on it, but my mood changed again so this weekend I’ll work on another project of mine that I started earlier. Actually, this one was the first idea that evolved into a whole story into my mind. It will be hard, I know. There are lots of things I still have to face and this story is quite scary to me, not because of the plot itself, but because of the PD. So, I don’t know when it will be finished but I’m sure I’ll be much better by the end of it.
A little fun fact: as I am a not really good student one time I failed an exam because I got inspired and worked on this story all the night before the exam. 😛 Well, this is how inspiration works, I guess.

This one is going to be about my panic disorder, because there were/are many people around me who cannot understand what I’m going through and before the proper diagnosis they ignored or denied any signs of my illness. With this, I want to show them what’s it like, how scary it can be and how hard it is living with it. And also how serious it is. So, you can guess, this won’t be a fairy tale.

Although, the idea came years ago the meaning of the story became clear to me when this dialogue happened between me and my psychologist:

– What is it like when you are having one of those attacks?
– It is like..my chest hurts and I cannot breathe. I have to sit down to the floor leaning my back next to a wall and have to hold myself with my arms bent around me tight, because otherwise I feel like I would fall into pieces. It’s like a crack starting from my chest and it goes all over my body. As if I was made of porcelain, like a doll.
– I cannot imagine this. Try to explain it better.

Well, I will. 😉

Until I finish it, here’s a little foretaste of the mood of the story:


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Colour Three: Carmine, The Crystal Queen

Royal City, the centre of our little country has always been the place where the honourable and highly respected royal family lived in their magnificent mansion. The Crystal Castle, as most people called it, was placed on an enormous cliff, in a commanding position above the sea.

Each year, for only one day, the castle was opened to the nobility, being invited to a ball, to celebrate the long lasting reign of the family and the prosperity of our country as well.

Once, a young lady, who came from distant lands, was also invited to the party. Her name was Carmine. When she arrived, two identical doormen opened the huge wrought iron gates, and soon led her to the ball room.

At the time she stepped into the room, a view, she had never seen before, petrified her.  The walls were covered with silk in different colours, and only a few candles lit the room poorly. But what she was most amazed by, was the people she saw in front of her. At first sight, they all wore classical ball gowns, and masks covered their faces and strange clothes that seemed to be heavy to wear. They were made of a strange fabric that glittered whenever they turned round and back to the rhythm of the music the band played. At first, all looked like if they had not been coloured but during their movements their outfits glittered in different colours, as if they were crystals, depending on from which side she looked at them.

The dance they performed was also something unusual to Carmine. Their movements were classical but halting at the same time.  Carmine was just standing there alone, a little ashamed of her regular gown, watching the myriad of different colours moving. Suddenly, a young man appeared before her, and stretched his hand out to invite the lady for a dance. Carmine did not say anything, only nodded. A few minutes later they were already moving along with the crowd. The man was so good at this kind of dance that they really melted into the scene. After the song ended the couple went out to the balcony where the man gave a flower, deep red like blood, to the lady. Without words, she took the flower and put it under her dress. She did not realise that a thorn cut her finger and a little drop of blood left a stain on the marble floor.

Not long after the ball, Carmine got married to the young man, the son of the royal family. They raised their four children in extreme wealth and kept holding their marvellous balls each year. Carmine’s maids always dressed her tight clothes to hide every little flaw of her body. In the beginning she did not like these clothes but everyone in the court stuck to the rule of ultimate perfection.

As years passed, Carmine got used to and even liked those inconvenient clothes. She got used to them so much that she did not put them off even when she went to bed, despite she could not sleep well anymore. Her hair was decorated with her diamond crown, the crystals of which slowly crept down to her face and connected to her mask that she also wore every single time.

Day by day she marvelled looking at herself in the mirror. Her beauty was known worldwide, „The Crystal Queen” people started to refer to her by this name because of her shining beauty. But sometimes, her reflection in the mirror seemed to be someone completely different, as if she was looking at a stranger. Though the reflection copied Carmine’s every little movement like a slave, the woman who lived in the mirror, had her long, ink-black hair flatter, and her ocean blue eyes were not covered by make-up, nor mask. Her dress was a simple, white nightgown, and she had no shoes. She very was familiar to Carmine, though she could not remember where she could have seen this girl before.

But one day, the reflection, independently of Carmine, placed her palm on the glass of the mirror and started to speak. Carmine could not hear any of the reflection’s words. The girl seemed to be terrified and desperate and the queen tried to read her lips, in vain. Later, the reflection moved on her own more frequently. By that time, Carmine hardly slept and ate, and still did not know who that scared girl in her mirror was.

Long time passed when the Queen realised that, although the girl could be noticed easily, from the room that should also have been reflected, could not be seen anything. No furniture, no lights, only the girl and darkness. And one more thing; stalks. After a deeper look, Carmine noticed that heavy and thick stalks writhed around the reflections neck and arms, as if they were trying to trap her. Then, for the first time, Carmine got frightened by the mirror. Maybe there was a reason why the girls was imprisoned there, she thought to herself. But, no matter how hard she tried she could not remember whether the girl had been there when she moved to the castle. Nor the mirror. She was unable to remember any of them.

During nights, the Queen’s sweet dreams were not only disturbed by her clothes but also the knocking of the girl in the mirror. The harder she tried to ignore her, the harder the reflection thumped.

Soon, the Queen gave birth to her fifth child, a little girl. On that night, she stepped to the mirror, and as she had seen it from the girl, she placed her hand on the cool glass of the mirror. The girl, after a few seconds copied Carmine. Their palms seemingly met, however Carmine felt the girl is far away from her. She saw her unreachable.

Their glance met, and for the first time the same emotion reflected in both pairs of the ocean blue eyes; despair. All of a sudden, the glass of the mirror, under their palms, cracked. Carmine stepped back led by fear, she did not know what happened. At that time, the reflection grabbed something unnoticeable from behind her back and threw it towards the mirror. Sharp and searing pain flew throughout the Queen’s whole body. This time, it was her turn; her expression was the perfect copy of the reflection’s look. All over the crown and mask of the Queen cracks appeared and soon on her dress and body as well.  Then, the stalks that had been restraining the reflection, slowly slackened and disappeared in the darkness. The mirror shattered into pieces. The reflection stepped out of the mirror but it was as dark as her prison was. She was scared and could only think of that all of her efforts were in vain. She looked around but could not see any escape. As she took a few steps forward in the darkness, something stung her feet. She stepped on the remains of Carmine. All of a sudden, beginning from the pile, the floor and the walls started to crack and everything shattered just like a piece of ordinary and cheap glass. The moonlit night sneaked in the room bringing the pleasant summer breeze and the scent of the ocean with itself. Now, for first in a long time, the reflection could breathe. Finally, she also could feel her limbs and body that was vibrating.

She already could hear her servants and possibly his husband, the king, approaching the place of the disaster. She gently put her new-born baby in her arm, went out to the half-demolished balcony and threw herself in the depths. It was a silent night, only the rumble of the sea could be heard.

The next day  Royal City was buzzing loudly with the case of the death of mother and child. Some of them told about an in-labour death, others said it was the king, who killed them both and according to the rest the whole story was a well-constructed lie. But the truth remained within the walls of the castle. After the incident, the king became more engaged in his work letting their children be raised by the staff of the mansion.

The vessel was rolling on the torrents, and a little girl was running on the deck chasing some birds that were flying around there. The woman, who was taking care of her, with something unrecognizable in her hand stood by the rail, marvelling at the reddish scenery of the rising sun, when that thing stung her finger. It was still as sharp as on that night even after those many years, she smiled. ‘The Crystal Queen is dead.’ And she dropped that thing, along with her brilliantly shining, but scattered mask, into the sea.

 carmine

Sarah was touched by Grandma’s story. She did not only understood the moral of it, but something started to bother her that has never popped into her mind before. Without thinking she said,

“You are Carmine, aren’t you?” Asked confidently as if she already knew the answer.

“Who knows?! It was such a long time ago” the answer was faint.

“And you also met the Viridians” this was not a question anymore.

“Why do you think it so?” Grandma was really surprised, but Sarah did not know what exactly surprised her.

“My leg” she started. “On my first day here you healed my ankle within minutes. It’s impossible, it was broken I could feel it!” And then she said what she had suspected for a long time. “You did it with magic, only the Viridians knew, didn’t you?” The old lady remained silent, instead of words her shining eyes and kindly smiling lips answered.

“What would you like to do, Dear?” Her voice was full of pure love.

“I want you to teach me magic!”