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Alex Barbu
Stories (29/0)
Maslina.
What have you done to me, I said what have you done? When did your spell kick in; I think - where can I run? I watched you pop out of the ground as a hurricane swirled around you; and you were swayed left and right into the sunlight by the gentle breeze of the roaring winds near the eye of the tornado you blossomed in. You overtook it all - for masses of grey debris that circle a place of tenderness are more a frame - a blooming centrepiece to showcase hope; silk, colour-changing petals that reflect the nature of my soul right in my eyes. You overtook it all - the raging anger, death and vermin dared not touch you, dared not give you anything but distance - a place to grow from, open sky, a tunnel shooting to the sun. I used to wonder if the ground that still had humid soil would ever yield fruit. The storm grew bigger over time, and I knew there would never be a crop. To see life grow in a place of death, to see colours in a mass of grey; in my swirling, spewing, venom-spitting ruin of a soul. A cruel irony of worthless hope and years of winds; of standing still and hoping for some stillness; no principle to guide my frightening desire.
By Alex Barbu2 years ago in Poets
A Wet Ball of Black Fur.
I am weak. By that, I mean I know my own limits - and the only reason I am not telling you this story face to face right now, is because I know that I have not yet built the strength to resist your siren’s call. I know that if I were faced with you again, in the right setting, I would delve right back into everything that could have, or should have been.
By Alex Barbu3 years ago in Petlife
Life in The Big City.
I always thought that life in the big city would be this romantic, life-changing experience - one that I would look back to, and associate it with the best years of my life. What could ever be more liberating than hopping in your car at 5 A.M., before the sun has even risen, and driving West? Leaving everything you know behind - your family, your friends, your memories, the tiny little town you grew up in; because the city calls to you?
By Alex Barbu3 years ago in Humans
Purpose Free of Reason
Little Stevie never asked about the content of the boxes. It wasn’t his business. Besides, he liked contenting himself with other affairs, more pressing to him than what exactly it was that he was transporting. One of those affairs was his cat’s well-being. Queenie, the old ragdoll cat he had cared for since she was but a kitten, purred in the passenger seat as he did his weekly routine. So with the wind blowing through his hair and Queenie’s fur, and the soothing tunes of Bradley Nowell playing at a low volume through his car’s speakers, he made the usual five-hour drive from Kelly Bay all the way to the forgotten town of Misserville for the drop off.
By Alex Barbu4 years ago in Humans
My Friend, Dante.
I met Dante about three years ago, under the strangest of circumstances. You see, I was resting after a heart surgery - and Dante came into the recovery room. He was no doctor - he wasn’t even a hospital worker. He was simply walking by outside, when he saw me and was drawn to me. “There was something about you to begin with,” he would later go on to say. “Some sort of a power, or lack thereof, that I felt I needed to be there to witness. However long it takes.”
By Alex Barbu4 years ago in Psyche
The Great Ball.
I walked through a bolted silver door. Everyone at the Masquerade Ball looked unique, yet similar. A few people chose to go with a personalized version of a Phantom of The Opera mask. A handful decided that painting over their faces would be a better idea. Some had masks that were adorned with diamonds and pearls, others were wearing green, blue and gold, while some proudly wore black and white masks. People huddled in groups with others that put on a mask similar to their own. A large group of men and women with gold-colored masks and raging black holes for eyes started surrounding me. They danced ritualistically, holding hands, forming a circle around me and trapping me in the midst of the gold link chain they had constructed around me. I had no real mask. My face bore a transparent foil above my thick skin, and my eyes showed hope. I had no business being with them. One of their three tall leaders came towards me with a gold mask whose inside glowed a burning red, smoking and sizzling, eager for the touch of human skin. If I were to put it on, I could never take it off. The second leader was waving a silver spoon around, and a piece of black cloth, ready to blind me with a swift flick of his hand. The last one was fitting a red thread through a needle whilst looking me dead in the eyes. My lips would be forever sealed. My transparent mask and I had no business being around this group of people. I danced my way out of Golden Group, and pretended to help them reach their goal. ‘I am not getting indoctrinated.’ I thought. The three leaders watched me make my way out of their circle, visibly filled with hatred and anger despite their lack of expression. Their blind eyes fixated on me as I twirled around, and linked hands with them before making a run for the windows.
By Alex Barbu4 years ago in Horror