What if I fall?

Cristian Mihai


“What if I fall?” 
“Oh my darling, what if you fly?”

Do you ever ask yourself if you like the person you are? If you are who you’ve always wanted to be? Do you know who you want to be?

To be honest, it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I realized who I really wanted to be. I want to be that guy who tells people they can fly. I want to see the magic they have stored up in their hearts for so long. And I want to make them see it, I want to make them use it. Because, truth be told, falling is just another way to fly.

View original post 336 more words

Allah Almighty · fiction · fragmentory · Inked Arteries · Life Perspectives · Metaphysical · Philosophy · Psychological · ScribbleNibbles · short story · Spiritual · Surreal · Writing · Writings

Fragmentory 1


She once kissed the sun. It was tailored under window glass. Sliced into spots. For her pleasure. Then it was gone. As easily it had risen. Storm wafted in gray smoothness and polished the gold. No, she was not disappointed. Hungering for both storms and sun is like going against the Manicheanistic prospects of life. Life as a social production; life as capital of capitalism and the bickering of socialism. It was as if she was pining for both lover and husband in the person that she craved. They say both cannot coexist; then she remembered the sunspots and trusted even more they could. God shown with nature that it could exist and she questioned why was it feared? The existence of two together. Why was labeling in the apex of discrete and discretion rather than a more luminous and dark pitched Night. Was not night and moon the biggest paradox one could imagine? The softness of a crescent itself defies how a full becomes a curve and a curve becomes a circle. Both complete. Both alarmingly present. And yet this night was called by Hellenistic successors as women’s quarters; relegated and suffocated and brought out no more  than a manifestation of infestation and damnation; what contradiction and stupidity is raised. As storm raged and raged and sang and sang in its gusto to swoon clouds and water she felt the fusions of thoughts and emotions. As Night settled in its tones of deep blue, gray and black with highlights of lightnings here and there and petrichor perambulations made its way into the food, hearts and blood of people around with her adjoined she felt a corporeal bliss with an incorporeal promise.