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Unmotivated..
Why do I feel so uninspired. So unmotivated with what life has given me. Or to be frank, has thrown at me from the deep edges of hell for me to jump over. There is of course wonderful days to thank over. I always pray for more. Having shreds of happiness to cling onto in my most heartbreaking moments. Only to be starved, having only sleep for sustinance, having my bed shared by anxiety, depressive and the leeching feeling of uselessness by me taking no action. Instead, scared of the unraveled consequences. How stupid is that to say out loud, but it happens.
Just being always having my hands filled felt so accomplishing but so painful to think about, afraid of that deadline. It keeps you occupied and having some sort of safe space but its a facade, A facade that gives you new worries, new responsibilities than the ones you hear on a daily basis. In conclusion, That "safe space" manifested in your subconcious a labrynth with multiple doors leading to multiple problems to walk through rather than dealing it all through that single door. Your'e just not able to come to grips to say that that hallway to another room is not a salvation. That door is just taking you deeper into the labrynth until its difficult to get out.
To have people tell you to take a break is good to hear. Makes you think they care, and they do. There are definitely people you can love and trust through this time, but you feel so used to the routine you cant stop. You can stop the cycle, but it requires sacrifices and the mental torment of change. Change is a pain that's beneficial, a daily prescription I personally need to take continuously and so do many others. With change, my inspiration and my motivation will recover. And we can do better in life by seeing the positives more clearly, And to not overlook the bad, but be able to understand and keep that negative at a healthy dose so it doesn't spiral within us again.
(Hello! It's been a long time since I posted here. Based on this post, been feeling so down for a long time and back and forth trying to pull myself up. I thought to start again I could write about those feelings because I know a lot of people who feel a little similar. And thank you so much to the people who liked my other works that means a lot to me because I always feel a bit scared to share my thoughts on the internet of all places but now I feel more inspired and want to see people who maybe liek my perspective or want to say there own thoughts on subjects with me. I find it interesting. I hope you have a great day, and if you're stuck in a cycle like me. It's ok, take your time to get out but of course, acknowledge the longer you take the more impact it'll happen on you.)
A Turn In The Wrong Direction Driving takes ages, the roads to Kara looked like it'll go on forever. She hadn't slept for hours now. She had to find her. Her eyes began to fall, leaving her in a daze. Everything was shaky. "I can't rest now, I have to keep moving forward.." All of a sudden, CRASH! The front of her vehicle hit the end of a metal post keeping cars from falling off the edge and ending one's life, though the car didn’t stop but instead slid to its left due to the incline of the ground. The impact made Kara jump and hit her head hard on her car door. Darkness consumed her. In her mind she thought of water, the thought of the ocean sinking her slowly to the bottom. She wasn’t afraid of drowning, in fact she was rather calm, the sounds of the waves soothed her nerves making her forget reality in total. Forgetting her current situation in the real world. The feeling of water swishing around her, seeing the little bubbles of trapped air created from small fishes with their small fins swimming past her still body. But, deep in her psyche she knew this couldn’t be reality. She desperately wanted to ignore it and sleep in the cool water. The back of her head then started to pinch uncomfortably making her finally face that her fantasy was coming to an end, maybe even her own life would come to an end as well if she wasn’t careful. No, she couldn’t let herself go that easily, not even for this life to go on for infinity. She still had one last objective to be filled. Not only did the pain in her head get only worse but she felt a light touch on her neck. Not pressing too much for it to hurt the same but instead a tap as if something was trying to poke dead roadkill with a stick thinking it will magically come alive.. The darkness came back again, her breathing began to get raspy as she was pulled into reality once more. She breathed heavily, lightly opening her eyes she saw a figure that looked like her car, of course it was wrecked, but was on the ledge, about 8 or more feet above her. She couldn't open her door, she pressed against it keeping the wight steady as it was the only thing that was keeping it from falling with her in it. Though it could only hold it for so long. Hearing a few small rocks fall near the vehicle two hands grabbed rhe door prying it open and swiftly began to pick her body up and ran, she didn’t open her eyes as she didn’t want to see the tragedy of her mission being unsuccessful and only get much more difficult, but at least she didn’t die from her own vehicle. She heard an explosion in the distance behind her. The sound of metal crashing and and the smell of smoke from blazing flames. When she lightly opened her eyes she saw a little town in the distance...
The Concept of Death and Beyond (Part 1)
Hello! Please know that this piece contains thoughts about Death (obviously) and what I thought late at night would be a good conspiracy on the concept of After-Death! Please enjoy!
Death is a term that is used to define the end of our mortal lives, along with any living thing. That's it, your gone and you go to heaven or hell being judged and stay there for all eternity. Thinking about that a little deeper, would there be a different perspective to that loosely used term and that unknowable place afterwards. Earth is an environmental enclosure, a circular, living prison in which no human cant escape for too long with the bodies that we all possess. In a funny way of saying its so far as we know, its the Milky Way's zoo being the only known place able to preserve life and if aliens do exist outside our reach we'd be like the Bronx Zoo or every other zoo in Planet Earth. Its a way of perspective.
Death, when creatively thinking, is the end of our bound to this planet, like freeing an animal from a zoo back to the wild. To be free into the cosmos, to be weightless, calm, at peace with yourself. But in a possible world in which we could say that this was the case, what would happen if you weren't at peace? What if you were not a good person, being not judged by the angelic entities up above but instead from that voice within yourself that you hear in your mind at times of denial, stress and self hatred or even daily decision making during your time on Earth.
What if that is what judged you was yourself deep down not letting you forget and neglect those hateful things you've done until you truly, deeply forgive yourself for what you've done. What truly judges you is yourself and you cannot lie to yourself no matter how long you're willing to take because deep down you would know what you are. That's your ticket into the threshold of your new existence.
(I do not want to off-put anyone when saying anything about the earth being a "Zoo" or "Prison" or Heaven and Hell being not really that great. I'm a Catholic and live on this planet too as you know it's just my creative thinking and I personally thought it would benefit getting my point crossed in this little first part I thought of putting out there that's been on my mind for the past 2 days. But, with that out the way hope you have a wonderful day, stay safe, be creative and never let anyone crush those amazing thoughts in your head!)
(Also if you do like this piece be sure to let me know like or whatever the case and ill put out a part 2 of this. Love ya!)
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Fun Story to Share.
I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.
Well - she got this email this morning:
The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.
Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).
Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.
———
Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.
jesus fucking christ
Death Before Water And Life After It
'The Avonlea Story Club'
Story no. #02 Inspired by prompt: “There was a legend about the well in the garden.” Time Duration: 1 May, 2023 - 31 May, 2023
Word Count: 2.6K Words Warning: horror elements, mention of illness, injuries, deaths etc.
Summary: Spending the summer vacation with an ill grandma in a remote village turns mysterious...
I attempted to write down a rare experience I got to have while I visited my late grandma’s village. The story I am about to tell is no ordinary tale. It is, in many ways, unbelievable too. So, I would rather let my readers decide upon believing it.
It was the summer of 2017. My grandma was diagnosed with a deadly disease and the doctors feared that she wouldn’t make it till the next year. I had a long vacation of two months from school. I didn’t have any plans either. At that moment, my only desire was to visit my grandma for the last time on her deathbed, even though it was said that she couldn’t recognize anyone.
It was the very first time I sat foot in that remote village. I had expected a lot from it since it was located far away from the city. But in reality, nothing about the village appealed to me. It was just an ordinary village with ordinary people.
My grandma didn’t come to greet me. When I went to meet her, she didn’t even bother to look at me. I could tell by looking in her eyes that she was in pain. But as always, my sweet grandma didn’t want to burden anyone with it. I spent three days in the house without getting out for once. Within these three days, I had constantly sat beside grandma and talked to her in hope that she might recognize her youngest granddaughter at some point. But that didn’t happen.
Finally, it was the fourth day when I got bored of playing offline games on my phone. Since the network connection wasn’t the best at that place, I decided to take a look at my surrounding areas. Like I had mentioned before, the village had nothing interesting to enjoy. There was no place for sightseeing.
After some minutes of aimlessly walking around I came to a stop near what looked like a ruin of an old garden. I spent a minute or two looking at its broken gate. Then I finally went in. Once again, I was disappointed after finding nothing but a bunch of wild plants growing all around the place.
There was an old well at the far corner. I felt like I should go and check it before I left the place for good. As I walked towards it I felt uncomfortable and strange. I remembered I was all alone in an abandoned garden with no house that could be seen or people that could be heard.
Yet I couldn’t turn back without a close view of the well. It was as abandoned as the garden itself. Vines and roots grew all around it. The huge stones had cracks. When I peeked inside I was shocked to see water that hadn’t dried out yet. I could see my reflection perfectly in the black water inside.
I was about to go away when I heard someone behind me. There was a little boy sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the well.
How come I didn't notice him in the first place?
He wasn’t wearing much clothes than necessary, I guessed it was because of the hot weather. He was dirty from his head to toe. I went closer to check on him. I found out that he was humming a tune while scratching his ankles.
“Hey!” I called him, “What are you doing here, all alone?”
He quitted humming at my intrusion and glanced at me for a moment. Then he looked down on his ankles and started to scratch them again. I felt an urge to stop him from doing that. His feet looked swollen and red.
Instead I asked, “Where are your parents?”
“They died… long ago,” he answered in a low voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!” I went closer to sit in front of him, “Do you live nearby?” There were no houses in sight that could suggest his home. But I still looked around for any sign of life.
In reply, the boy looked at the well behind him for a moment. Then, he looked at me and asked, “Are you a foreigner?”
“No. I came from the city.” I replied.
“So, you are a foreigner!” he stated. This time with a thrill in his eyes. So, I nodded my head in defeat. Maybe he considered everyone apart from the villagers a foreigner.
“You shouldn’t do that.” I said, indicating his merciless scratching.
“It’s okay!” he smiled at me, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
I studied his face for a while. Even though it was dirty, I could tell that the boy was really beautiful. He had big doe eyes with long eyelashes. His small mouth looked really cute when he smiled. Also, he had the kind of smile that makes others do the same at its sight.
So, I automatically smiled back at him.
“C’mon!” I stood up, “I’m going now. You shouldn’t be here all alone. This place is giving me the creeps.”
“You’re going away already?” the boy asked. The smile on his face was gone. His big eyes were filling up with tears all of a sudden.
“Aww, don’t cry.” I said, giving him my hand, “I'm not leaving you. I’ll take you to your home.”
“I can’t go.” he shook his head.
“Why?” I asked, rather astonished at the bold reply coming from an otherwise soft spoken little boy.
The boy retreated to his previous position. He continued humming the tune and scratched his ankles as well. I tried convincing him to come with me for some time. He started to completely ignore me.
I checked my watch. It was past lunch time. I knew grandfather was probably really angry by now because he doesn’t like delaying meal times. So, I told the boy to go home early and not to come to the place again. I had to leave him alone by the well.
I had almost forgotten all about it. But another meeting reminded me of my encounter with the little boy by the well.
I laid awake in my bed. The little boy sat at the furthest corner from me. I stared at him for some time, watching him scratch his ankles and humming the familiar tune.
When our eyes met, he let himself smile. "You're awake!" He stated.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him.
"I came because you didn't come to see me again." He replied.
"Did you wait for me?" I asked.
The boy nodded.
"Where?"
"Why? By the well in the garden!"
"Didn't I tell you not to go there alone?"
The boy laughed at me, "But I live there, silly."
I didn't understand him. Suddenly I remembered I was sleeping and I hadn't really woken up.
How could I tell that I was dreaming?
"Oh no! You're gonna wake up now, aren't you?" The boy pouted his lips.
"How do you…" I couldn't finish my question. I was already awake. And as I checked, the boy was gone too.
I couldn't make myself go back to sleep again. It was already dawn. So, I walked around the house. I heard my grandma calling me from within her room as I walked past it. My eyes grew larger.
She remembered me!
"Oh, granny. My lovely, granny." I sprinted inside her room and hugged her.
"When did you come, my love?" She asked, a sweet smile on her lips.
"Almost a week ago."
We talked for some time. Grandma said that she felt a lot better and was so happy to see me. She wondered why mother didn't come. I said she was very busy with her work. I lied because I didn't want to worry her about mother's health. And I knew she wasn't the type to get hurt when someone couldn't manage their time. It is a cruel world, after all.
At some point, grandma was reminiscing about the old times. Long ago when she was young and not yet married. She used to live here, in this village, at that time. She talked as if her memory of her childhood was just a few days back. I felt like she had forgotten me at some stage and mistook me for her best friend of childhood instead as she talked.
At one point, I asked her about the old garden. I asked if it was in use at her times. She looked at me with dreadful eyes, "don't speak of it. Don't you know, it's a forbidden place to walk in?"
"Why is it forbidden, Grandma?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, dear!" She suddenly started to laugh, "I keep forgetting that it's you." and placed a kiss on my forehead.
"Grandma," I called, "Please, tell me about the garden. I wanna know."
"It was a long time ago. Even before I was born. There was a legend about the well in the garden." grandma spoke dreamily.
"What legend?"
"At the time when the first gypsies came to settle down in the land, it was a barren one. No river. No rain. Nothing. Nobody knows why the river gypsies chose to live in such a land after years of floating in water. But they struggled against this land. It wasn't habitable for life at all. They decided they'll excavate a well. After months of labor they did it too. But it was only a matter of days before the water dried out after the well was built."
"Why?" I asked as grandma stopped to take a breath.
Grandma nodded, "it was a cursed place. Everyone in the village had dreams about the well afterwards. An unknown entity would visit them in their dreams and ask them to negotiate with it. The negotiation was a human life in exchange for water.
"People were scared. They forbade everyone to go near the well. They decided to leave the place for good. Some of them even ran away from home in fear. But the nightmares didn't stop. The entity was hungry for human life. Finally, it got what it wanted.
"A little boy of a lonely mother wandered off to the well one day. When he returned home at sunset, both of his legs were found being chained. The mother walked along the long chains only to find that it led inside the very well her people had built. The more they pulled the chains, the more it grew in length, coming out of the dried well. No blacksmith could damage the chain, not even a little scratch could be made on it.
"The villagers started to see a different version of their same old nightmare. The entity now asked them the life of that little boy only. Then, started the gossip.
"The boy was an illegitimate child. His mother was not a very welcomed person in the community. They lived almost a separated life. Maybe the entity chose wisely. Maybe they should abide by its rule. Maybe the boy could be sacrificed for the sake of all.
"But the mother was a mad woman. She wouldn’t give up on her only gem. She would rather her son lived with the chains around his legs forever. The child cried. He cried all day and night. He said that his legs itched. And as he scratched them again and again, the skin had peeled off and left him wounded.
"'Mama, it hurts.' The boy pleaded with his mother to get rid of his shackles. But nothing could be done for his aid. The villagers, at one point, stopped even trying. The herbal remedy his mother gave him was useless.
"'Let me go, then.' The boy pleaded again. His mother denied.
"Finally, the boy decided for himself. When his mother would be asleep, he would go to the well again. He would ask the well what it wanted from him. And so he did. Nobody heard of the little boy anymore. Someone said that the boy had jumped off to the well himself. But nobody knew because there wasn't a body to be found.
"Since that day, there hasn't been any scarcity of water from the well. The well never dried off after. A beautiful garden grew around the land. No-one had any more nightmares. The gypsies finally overcame another adversary that was the most challenging in their community life. They lived happily ever after."
Grandma finished her story and looked at me with a smile.
"But Grandma," I spoke, "this isn't the type of story that ends with 'happily ever after'."
"Why not?" grandma asked, "the villagers, in fact, did live happily."
"What about the boy? And his mother?"
"Now," grandma stated, "they weren't the hero of my story, were they?"
"You've got a point," I said, "But don't you think that the boy could be the most tragic hero if it was said from his perspective?"
"He could be." Grandma thought for a moment, "Why don't you rewrite it in your own words then? Maybe you can do him some justice."
Before I left grandma for breakfast, I asked her one last question, "since everything is resolved, why did you say that it was a forbidden garden in the beginning?"
"Because, darling!" She looked at me as if it was so obvious, "the little boy can still be seen roaming around it."
I went to the garden that day. It was obvious what grandma told me was just a legend. And a legend can be a lie. Or at least partially. Maybe there was an incident of a boy's drowning. Maybe the nightmares originated from the collective superstitious belief of the gypsies. Or maybe, just maybe, there was an entity involved.
Whatever happened a long time ago, I could never know them for sure. I could only assume the story from my perspective and my beliefs in particular superstitions. But I didn't feel like I could rest till I saw that little boy again and demanded some kind of explanation. It might sound a little crazy to the readers but my mind couldn't make out any reasonable explanation of the boy's peculiar behavior at the moment.
I waited from morning till noon. But he didn't come. I didn’t know that some terrible news awaited me at home other than the fear that grandfather might be mad at me for missing another lunch.
Grandma was no more. My sweet, lovely grandma. The grandma who had talked with me just this dawn. I was told that the servant found her dead when he went to serve her breakfast. I almost didn’t believe it. But I accepted at last as we all do eventually.
I stayed till the funeral was over. Then I immediately packed everything to leave the place. I didn’t think I could stay at the house without feeling my grandma's presence.
But before I left, I had to solve something within myself. I had to see the boy again. I went to the garden for the last time. And as expected he was already waiting for me.
"Why didn't you tell me everything beforehand?" I questioned him, "Didn't you want me to know?"
"You know because I showed you." The same old smile on his face.
"But why me, of all people?"
He walked towards me and placed his cold hands on mine. It was the only time he had really touched me. He said hopefully, "You'll let them know, won't you? They'll finally know."
"Know what?" I asked, a little confused.
"The truth!"
I didn't understand him wholly that day. After years it somehow dawned on me. The little boy wanted the world to know. Not just the legend of the well in the garden. But the little life it took that made it possible.
Author's note: The story is inspired by a folktale my grandma had long ago told me that originated from her hometown. It was about how a pond was excavated and a child's life was offered for it to contain water. There are many versions of this story. The story is really memorable to me and honestly, I still get chills whenever I think about it. I made some changes to the plot to match the given prompt. I don't know if I could do it any justice. But I'm glad I made an effort to preserve one of the less known folktales of my country.
P.S. The country is Bangladesh…
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