Short Stories


There it is. Back again. That itch. That yearn. I rub my eyes with my knuckles as a way of deciding that now’s probably a good time as ever to get out of bed. I stretch over my mattress. I flip my blanket over off of my body, and feel the cold morning air seeping through my windows onto my skin. Goosebumps appear. It’s dark. All my blinds are down. I haven’t decided whether I want to let the sun in or not.

And then the feeling comes back. Back again. That itch. That yearn. I want something. And I want it right now. I can’t seem to think about anything else.

I work towards how to get it. My train of thoughts become consumed with how to feed this feeling. This bottomless pit of feeling that never seems to be fulfilled. The more I feed it, the hungrier it gets. It’s been getting out of control, but I’ve done nothing to stop it. A vice that consumes my priorities. A vice so strong that I’d be willing to give up everything I have to offer to succumb to it. It feels so good. I’m euphoric. Elated. Happy.

I’m not on Earth. The Sun is blue, and the sky is purple. The water is a glistening gold, and as it hits the warm black sand; it retreats back, leaving specs of its remnants behind. A world I never want to leave. A world where all my dreams come true, and all my fantasies fulfilled. A world of purely pleasure. Where addictions are constantly fed, as if one was in famished conditions. A flooding of consumption. A bottomless pit of fun.

An addiction to succumb to.


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