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manticore239 · 2 days ago

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The Yellowing Road

I wish I could say I was as calm as I looked, but I’m not. Beneath the skin-deep poise, a tremor ripples through me—uncontrollable, panicked shaking, the inevitable result of breaking the one rule: “Don’t look down.” But it’s too late. I’ve seen it, and no amount of willing blindness can undo that revelation.

Everyone complains about the irregularities of the road we walk on. Some stub their toes and curse. Others wrinkle their noses at the ever-present stench. People trip and fall, slicing themselves open on jagged edges, their wounds oozing and festering. “It is what it is,” they say. “Don’t complain about what you can’t fix.”

But the road isn’t merely flawed. It was built from desperation and innovation, from the remains of a past too grotesque to face. Its very foundation is a concrete mixture of human remains, ground and reconstituted into something we tread on daily without thought. Beneath my feet, brittle bones crunch like dry leaves. A kicked fragment skitters ahead—not a stray walnut but an amalgam of shattered teeth and plastered dental fillings, clicking off the hollowed skulls of expired strangers.

We all know the truth, deep down. That’s why no one looks. To look down is to risk annihilation of the soul. The road is a graveyard, a monument to everything we’ve consumed to survive. A single glance is enough to rob you of sleep, of sanity, of the will to keep moving. Look long enough, and you’ll crumble under the weight of it, become bedridden, unable to earn your place above the cement. You’ll fall, and soon enough, your body will join the next avenue’s unholy mix.

I see it in the eyes of others when they catch me staring downward, their gazes flickering with recognition and dread. My expression betrays the truth they’ve repressed, shattering their fragile denial. Their fear mirrors mine, though they hide it better—for now. But reality stinks worse than decay, a stench too foul for our senses to endure.

And yet, amid this nightmare, I notice something else. Tiny shoots of green—thin, fragile tendrils forcing their way through cracks in the pavement. They seem impossible, and yet they persist, defying the weight of the road above them. They draw their strength not from denial but from the very horror we refuse to face, reclaiming nourishment from the remnants of what once was.

The others don’t notice, their gazes locked firmly forward or cast to the ground in resignation. But I see them—the first flowers of a truth too powerful to suppress. They whisper to me, their petals trembling in the foul wind: Life endures. Beauty endures. Even here.

A choice lies before me. I can keep walking, pretending not to see, preserving the illusion of stability while cracks spider-web beneath my feet. Or I can kneel—risk breaking the unspoken rules—and nurture the green shoots rising from the ashes. To touch them is to risk everything. But perhaps, in the end, it is the only way to rebuild a road that doesn’t demand our bones.

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livelincoln · 16 days ago

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The Goat and the Sheep

Upon the crossroads' weary stone I stood, Two forms before me, neither bright nor good. A goat, with eyes that burned like brazen fire, A sheep, whose calm concealed no heart’s desire.

"Come," spake the goat, its horns a gleaming crown, "Life’s summit waits, though cliffs may drag thee down. The path is cruel, the edges sharp as knives, Yet glory’s height redeems a thousand lives."

The sheep, more mute, yet in its silence wise, Gazed soft with depths unseen by daring eyes. "Choose me," it murmured, low as twilight’s breath, "My path is quiet, free of toil and death. No heights await, no laurels to attain, But peace is mine—no triumph, yet no pain."

Between them stood I, bound by dire debate, Each course a prison, choice a bitter fate. The goat’s wild gleam bespoke a savage fight, The sheep’s soft gaze—a shadowed, endless night.

"Must all the world be thus—a cruel jest? No road unthorned, no haven ever blessed?" The goat laughed harsh, "To climb is to endure." The sheep replied, "And yet, the plains are sure."

At last, I stepped, though plagued by doubt profound, Toward trails unseen, unlit by stars around. The goat leapt bold, its mockery in my ear, The sheep kept pace, its whispers soft and clear.

"Too frail for ascent," the goat’s scornful cry, "Too bound by fear to reach the open sky." The sheep intoned, "Regret is but thy guide, When paths are chosen where dreams cannot bide."

And so I trod, though neither beast I tamed, Their courses yoked, their destinations maimed. For in their steps, I saw the same bleak shore— No goat nor sheep could grant my spirit more.

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blueheartbooks · 1 year ago

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"The Soul of Lilith: Marie Corelli's Enigmatic Exploration of Love, Redemption, and the Supernatural"

Marie Corelli's "The Soul of Lilith" weaves a spellbinding narrative that delves into the mystical realms of love, redemption, and the supernatural. Published in 1892, Corelli, a prominent Victorian novelist, takes readers on a captivating journey through the corridors of the unknown, challenging societal norms and delving into the complexities of the human soul.

The story revolves around Lilith, a character shrouded in mystery and intrigue, whose ethereal beauty and enigmatic presence capture the hearts and minds of those around her. Corelli crafts a narrative that seamlessly blends elements of romance, fantasy, and spirituality, creating a tale that transcends conventional genres.

As Lilith's story unfolds, the novel explores themes of forbidden love and the transformative power of redemption. Corelli's prose is laced with poetic elegance, painting vivid images that evoke a sense of otherworldly beauty. The supernatural elements interwoven into the narrative add a layer of mysticism, inviting readers to ponder the boundaries between the natural and the ethereal.

"The Soul of Lilith" is not merely a love story but a profound exploration of the human condition. Corelli deftly navigates the complexities of morality and spirituality, prompting readers to reflect on the nature of good and evil, love and sacrifice. The characters, with their flaws and virtues, become vessels through which Corelli examines the intricacies of the soul and its potential for transformation.

The novel's enduring appeal lies in Corelli's ability to blend the fantastical with the philosophical. Lilith's journey becomes a metaphorical exploration of the human quest for meaning and the pursuit of a higher, more enlightened existence. Corelli's narrative skill is evident in her ability to weave together a tapestry of emotions, supernatural elements, and thought-provoking themes.

"The Soul of Lilith" stands as a testament to Marie Corelli's literary prowess and her willingness to push the boundaries of conventional storytelling. The novel's evocative prose, complex characters, and exploration of the mystical make it a timeless work that continues to captivate readers seeking a journey beyond the ordinary.

In conclusion, "The Soul of Lilith" is a mesmerizing tapestry of love, redemption, and the supernatural that showcases Marie Corelli's mastery of storytelling. As readers traverse the pages of this Victorian gem, they are transported into a world where the boundaries between reality and the mystical blur, leaving an indelible mark on the soul long after the final page is turned.

Marie Corelli's "The Soul of Lilith" is available in Amazon in paperback 21.99$ and hardcover 24.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 671

Language: English

Rating: 9/10

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

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blueheartbookclub · 1 year ago

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"The Soul of Lilith: Marie Corelli's Enigmatic Exploration of Love, Redemption, and the Supernatural"