Uncage the Night, Chapter XII (the end)

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Previous chapter: here

First chapter: here

This is the end of the story. Last words from Leslie, as, she too, moves onto a different book.


I don’t know where I am… I’m scared. I don’t think I am real anymore.
I remember…
I’m sorry, mom.
I’m sorry, dad.
Mitch… What are they going to do to you?
I remember everything.
I wanted out so much that I fooled myself into believing that I was actually alright. Despite all the signs of every demons in my head still being here. The depression; the anxiety; the insecurities; the addictions; everything was still here. But I looked away.
Twisted mind twisted so much it squeezed them out…
I was weak and broken, it must have been so easy for them…
The darkness…
How long had they been lurking in the shadows of my cracked mind?
The darkness I had always feared sat inside of me since the beginning, silently waiting to fall.
And whatever entity I had absorbed was attracted and fueled by it.
It ate my nightmares; it freed me.
It ate my body; it used me…
I could hear them inside my head. Whispering, shouting, crying… They said things I would never dare repeat. But I can promise you that, no matter how evil, there was still light in these entities. The faintest of light; but still.
They were in pain. And lonely. Just like me. Maybe that’s why they picked me, because they understood… At least, that’s what I’d like to believe. But, they probably just picked the most convenient vessel to get in. I was there, wide open and too feeble to fight back; all theirs to take.
I could hear everyone else also.
At first I could only feel what they felt and their intentions. But gradually, it went deeper. Deeper into their thoughts, even the ones hiding in dark corners, and deeper into their bodies. I could hear heartbeats, feel body temperature and hear every swallow, every blink and every joints clicking. I could even predict what they would do, say or think next.
I could hear the blood running through their veins and every rumble of their hearts, like ticking clocks. When they were scared– the more scared they were, it sounded like music… It reminded me of a melody that I knew so well…
The river… It was like the river was calling out my name.
Those horrible things that they were doing– things that I was doing. I let them. I permitted it. They used me, but it wasn’t without consent. Part of me said “yes”, straight away, even when I was still resisting their influence.
A war that had already been lost…
They fed on my disorders, my fears, my tears but also on my every single smile. They greedily stuffed themselves. And as they grew — quickly– they opened doors inside and they nested in uncharted territories.
The blood. The screams. The surreal paintings. Those colors… Those sounds…
I was terrified. But I got a taste for it eventually. I kind of wanted more.
They ended up using my own dark thoughts as a fuel for their darkness. I didn’t mean them. Not all of them. Not all the time. Sometimes, I’m even sure that I wasn’t the one thinking them. It was probably them. I mean… All the hate and those dirty images…
They melted into me. Intertwined for the eternity that this weekend lasted. It made it hard to tell if it was me enjoying the horror or them. Both?
They used my own rare light to fuel their darkness. They drained every bit of me, yet somehow, I had never felt less empty.
It was so much pain at first. But eventually, I grew into it. Or, they grew into me. I was their home and they were… Me. It didn’t feel right but they showed me so much more of what this reality has to offer. I saw things, heard things that I would’ve never witnessed had I carried on living.
Death was a slow bumpy ride. There was pain, but lots of joy.Too bad I’ll never get to write a song about it. Ha ha!
I’m glad it’s over. For me at least…
I feel sorry for everyone else left out there. I wish it would never find them. But I know it will. I saw it through their eyes. The future…
I feel sorry for my family and friends…
Will they remember me?..
Who… Who is there left to remember me?
They are all dead. All I loved. All that loved me.
Everything that I took for granted. Everything that didn’t even belong to me in the first place. Everything is lost. Out of my reach.
What a tragic ending. I didn’t even get to say goodbye…

The river is calling me again. I can feel my soul resonate to the sound of Her song.
There has to be something bigger waiting for me out there. I’ve always been wandering through life like a lost soul, doomed to roam. I feel like I have finally found the place to go, a place to heal.
I know it is not the river that I used to go to with mom and dad. But it’s calling out to me. And it promises warmth, peace and music, family and even Pixie…
I just hope it’s not yet another lie.


874 words…

Here we are now, the end; which, for both, Leslie and us, only leads to a new beginning.

I hope you enjoyed the story. If you have any questions, feel free to leave them down in the comments or message me. Anyway you’d like. I will be writing one last post to summarize the story and my journey of writing it soon, and I will also answer questions there!

Tell me what you thought, I’d love to hear from you! 😉

As for me, I’m glad this finally comes to an end, although I will definitely miss the characters.. But, oh well, they’re all dead anyways!! Ha ha ha ah ha aha hahahahfzohzohuisjhxqgkzdlcqgjgkj

Watch out for that next & last Uncage post that will bring closure to this long bumpy ride!

Until then, keep reading! ❤

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Uncage the Night, Chapter XI

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First chapter: here

Previous chapter: here


It was 11:30 in the night. Everyone was asleep; all but one.
Leslie was roaming the house. She had been for the past hour and a half, rummaging through cupboards, drawers and moving furniture around as if she was looking for something. Nicolas came to her, moments before, angrily begging for a peaceful night. But all she did was groan at him. Admitting defeat, he went back to bed, back to his wife, and they resigned themselves to sleeping with earplugs.
She kept pacing up and down until something stopped her in her tracks. Leslie stood still, two feet away from the fireplace, on top of which was a golden picture frame. It was a family portrait; a fresh memory.

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(You missed the party.)

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I was in my room all bloody afternoon

Everything was too much

I was hoping for the moon

To give me that loving touch

You said I missed the party

But little did you know

I was having my own

Old friends, out of the blue paint

My stomach was filled with

I should’ve seen it coming

But nothing beats a surprise party

At least, on the bright side,

I’ll fall asleep tonight


Sometimes, punctuation hits you hard am I right? At least it’s over now.

Sunday was something but, on the brightside tomorrow’s Monday and that’s as good as any other day that isn’t today.

Ready for the next week, everyone!

Cheers!

Until next post, take deep breaths, you’ll be alright. ❤

Uncage the Night, Chapter X

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First chapter: here

Previous chapter: here

In this chapter, Sophie and Nicolas are back home and Leslie surprises them with a homecooked dinner.


And that was Bal Masqué by the brilliant–”
Nicolas turned off the radio, never breaking the habit of interrupting people mid-sentence. Sophie looked at him, grinning, while he briefly glanced at her. He focused back on the road and they both smiled, satisfied by the short telepathic exchange they just had. It was a very relaxing ride back home, or so it seemed.
That song kept playing in the back of his head. You lied but kept the mask on your face all along…

“It’s five o’ five.”, Nicolas said. “Nearly there.”
But Sophie didn’t reply. She was still busy flipping through pictures on her phone.
She had started with old ones as they left the hotel; Leslie, the swimming pool, the river, the afternoons spent baking, the family hikes, their paintings, her band and then Mitch, bright little Mitch. And now she was onto the last couple ones, from the night before; Nicolas, her Love, and her, under the moonlight. She sighed.
The ride remained a quiet one for the next thirty minutes. That was, up until they had their first surprise of the night.
“Nick, is that–”
“A police car.”, he interrupted her. Sophie couldn’t help a frown, although all her attention remained on the police car that was merely pulling away from their house. She held her chest, as if to keep her heart inside and squeezed her husband’s right thigh.
They quickly pulled up in the driveway. Leslie was sitting on the porch, her head cupped in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. She didn’t wave at them. In fact, she wasn’t even looking at them.
Sophie ran to her daughter. “Are you okay, baby girl?”, she asked.
“Yeah.”, Leslie replied.
“Oh, the police! I thought something….”
“Shhh.”, said Leslie as her mom hugged her tighter than ever.
Out of Sophie’s embrace emanated warmth and love. Leslie’s, on the other side, was rather weak and dry. She returned the embrace but only mechanically. It was a physical gesture, devoid of actual emotions.
Nicolas joined in and squeezed the two women together. He left a kiss on Sophie’s head and then on Leslie’s. They remained that way for a short while. And eventually, the mandatory embrace broke up so they could meet up with Mitch inside the house.

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Uncage the Night, Chapter IX

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First chapter: here

Previous chapter: here

In this chapter, we meet a new character, Anthony, a detective as he unveils disturbing truths about Leslie’s neighbors.


The tape was found deep in Herbert’s chest, labelled like in one of those cliché horror movies: Play me.
Anthony couldn’t lie, he found it quite humorous at the time. But eighteen hours had passed and now that he had listened to it countless of times, all it did was chill him to the bone. The tape lasted one full hour and fifteen minutes, including six long minutes of static by the end of it.

“What a sick bitch…”, he whispered to himself.
He stretched his arms and then stirred his coffee. It was eight o’clock on Monday morning and the culprit had been brought into the interrogation room. Finally.
It was Herbert’s wife. He was looking at her from the other side of the one-way mirror.
She looked pathetic. The mere sight of her made him sick. She was a monster for what she had done. No matter the motives, it was still murder. Although his sensitive heart was being tricked by her tears, making him feel for her, he knew she was guilty and the next hour could only confirm it.

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What the existential fuck?!

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I think it’s crazy how Reality & Fantasy are superimposed on each other every second that I breathe. Like broken oil and water, finally mixing together, only not completely, and never not sloppily.

Essentially, all of Reality is Fantasy because, through my sole point of view, the only one I own, nothing ever is truly true or fully complete. A lot of what I actually perceive of Reality’s scope, if not all, is me guessing, me imagining, connecting the dots, trying to fill in the blanks, making sense of silences and desperately trying to see words, pictures in empty skies. None of it is ever truth, rather hollow ideas.

Reality is a fantasy. Life is unreal. I am surreal. Nothing makes sense, nothing is real. My eyes have fancy filters on, adding sense, colors, warmth and whatever else it deems necessary to this bland, vacant space in which I float. All of which are gone, from me; from the rest.

There is nothing.

I am nothing. And yet, I remain.

Dreaming as a Curse…

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IMG_20171223_223943.jpgIt doesn’t take much. Just a spark and I can light up a whole universe. It doesn’t take much at all. Just a glimpse, just a sound, just a second.

I guess I am part of those “lucky ones”, those that dream and dream big, that believe on and on; creatures of hope & fantasies. But there’s no such things as luck.

I dream fast. I dream big. I dream tiny; but always intensely. I dream Life; I dream Death. I dream Love; I dream Pain. I dream all… I dream nothing… It doesn’t take much. My heart falls for the idea and my whole body follows. And I can’t help it. I can’t fight it.

Sometimes, Reality comes along and shatters the foolish ones. But I pick them back up. I can’t let go. I can’t give up. I don’t know how to. Even when I do give up, Im not.

My dreams don’t die. And sometimes I wish they would. I can’t stop. But I wish I could. Because it hurts; dreams hurt. When Reality comes along, it hurts. It’s not so bad but dreams have poisoned my all and I’m not sure Reality wants to be friends with me anymore. She’s not the enemy. (They are?)

Dreaming is good. It fuels you. It’s called “goals“. It comforts you from bad or nonexisting experiences. It’s called “fantasies“. Dreaming is human. It’s called ” breathing from the heart”, maybe the soul’s whispers.

“Don’t stop dreaming.”, they say.

“Hold on to your dreams!”, they said.

“Keep believing.”, they said.

“Not that kind of dreams…”, I said.

“Dreaming is good.”, they said.

“Don’t give up.”

“Never let go.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a dream.”

“It’s just a fantasy, it won’t hurt anyone.”

But it will… It does.

It hurts me. All types of dreams. Especially that one and those similar to it…

Reality isn’t letting me down; I am. I am letting her down.

Dreaming is good. But it’s not free. It takes my blood and tears, my muscles, my strength. It takes a toll. It wears me out. My soul…

It doesn’t take much. Just a spark and I’m set ablaze, to be consumed by the neverending fire of cursed fantasies. I wish I could stop them. It hurts.

Dreamers are blessed, they say. Blessed with a curse, I think. But it’s all I have…


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A page from my super cool notebook that my host mom gave me and on which I stuck a picture of the ocean(because sometimes all black is not okay). I’ve barely started using it now, simply to lay down some dramatic thoughts about life.

I know exactly what this one is about but it is one of those things that I must censor so I can’t let you in on it. My friends know… It is ridiculous but pretty intense. As all is. Can’t believe it was two weeks go I wrote that already! Time flies!!

I might or might not share more of it. I don’t know. Part of me thinks that she could keep things to herself but then I remember I just can’t live without sharing everything I possibly can. Haha

There’s gonna be a little wave of posts coming up in the next couple of days since I completely failed at scheduling this month. So, until next post, water your dreams and let ’em grow. ❤