Melancholia

 As I sit here, holding this pen, my hands remain still, sheathing my flawed inner workings plagued by utter chaos and emptiness. I will forever cherish these moments we spent together even as they pull me further apart from myself. As the sun falls further and further sweeping the skies with its awestruck crimson hue, the colors dancing beyond the dim horizon, all I wish for is to be in your arms. Our love was not given up on, the lord knows we tried. It blazed all else with its brightness, and slowly faded away, till it was no more. The sun that has risen is the sun that must set. Will it rise again? Perhaps, but we may never know. What I do know is that as the evening wastes away and the day dims further, a million stars gleam across the sky, and all I hope for is to see them through your eyes.  There's no light without dark, no joy without pain. To enjoy the sunshine, you must go through the rain.

He couldn't fathom how this could happen to him, why fate would be so cruel as to tear his parents away from him. He was consumed by overwhelming feelings of confusion, betrayal, and despair. He felt like he had nothing left to live for, like his entire world had been ripped away from him and he was left adrift in a sea of emptiness and despair.  The following days were a blur for Luka as he struggled to come to terms with his loss. He stopped going to classes and stopped eating and sleeping. His grades began to drop, and his health began to deteriorate. He became consumed by thoughts of suicide, and began to plan his own death. He tried to seek help, but found it hard to open up to anyone about his feelings. He felt like no one could understand what he was going through and that he was too smart for anyone to be able to help him. He isolated himself from the world, spending most of his time locked in his room. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, Luka...

  "Luka, solve this one for me, will ya?" "It's the third one, and you're a freshman at 26, dumbass. Don't waste my time. " "What'd ya' say to me, ya' punk ass bitch?" "You heard it. And what are you gonna do about it?" This was pretty much the life of Luka Greenacre. Learning to speak at 4 months old, simple arithmetic at an year old, high school algebra at five, and advanced calculus at seven, he was what you would consider a prodigy. A freshman in Dartmouth at twelve, he was the youngest ever, the perfect SAT probably being the least impressive part of his resume.  Having written a research paper at 8 and filing his parents taxes when kids his age were learning to color inside the lines, egotistical was an understatement for him. Arrogance bursting through his veins, he put his peers down almost every opportunity he got. Perhaps the most valued at his school, no one really took action on the complaints against him. One ...

  They arrived at the hotel. It was a eerie castle like structure, made out of red bricks with it's ivy covered walls, the hotel from the outside, looked menacing and imposing. The windows were dark and and the light played tricks on your eyes.    "Room number 1313.Could you take our luggage upstairs please?". Stefan brought in the camera equipment and bags, giving them to the bellhop. The hotel lounge was big, empty and soulless .Even standing on the heated flooring, the place felt ghastly cold . Matt felt something was off. Everything in the hotel was quite normal, but he felt an eerie sense of desolation. Perhaps his imagination, but the staff seemed......disturbed. "Come on, let's get a move on Matt, we have to settle in and set up the camera equipment before it gets dark, it's 6:30 already ".He got into the elevator with Stefan, shrugging off his intuition. It was probably just his imagination. As they   got in to their room, the bellhop was wai...

 "What's all this haunted hotel voodoo doll crap?" Matt scorched his hand trying to light a fat cuban. His doctor told him it was bad for someone like him with a punctured lung, but he just couldn't get himself to quit. Sitting right across him in the cigar lounge, as a puff of smoke wafted into the air, Stefan King spoke ."The Omni homestead has a past, ya know .",as he gestured the waiter to bring him another scotch ."In 1766 ,the first year of the hotel, a wedding was scheduled .The nervous groom-to-be had second thoughts about the wedding, and he ran away .Heartbroken ,the bride took her own life on the 13th floor, hanging herself .Legends say that even today ,the spirit of the bride wanders at night on the 13th floor, asking people the time, waiting for the groom to return".                    "Regardless, you have to help me in my documentary, you have no choice" Stefan said .Crazy about horror stories ,he fancied himself a pa...