Independent Writer - Blog Posts

Y’know it's kinda screwed up that I had to rely on books to give me comfort growing up and that translated in perfectionism and writing obsessively because I'll now never be satisfied with my reality because I'm always chasing the feelings I've gotten from certain kinds of media despite knowing that I'll never feel that way again. BUT ANYWAY, C’EST LA VIE, GO BE HUMANS, GO HAVE FUN :)

Story teller.

I have always loved stories, have always gotten a little thrill out of reading about Neverlands and far away wizarding schools, always searching for an escape. Now, I write, providing others with their own escapes. I write stories of fiendish pirates, poisoning tea with nightshade and sailing the seas to carry on a mother’s legacy. I write of plagues and pestilence, of crows invading the skies and turning them black. I write of an angel loving a human so much that they would fall from the heavens for him, just as Icarus did for the sun. Stories are meant to be shared, fantasies to get lost in... and yet, sometimes I wonder, how far into my fantasies is too far?

Cole by the window - Tacita Corvus peek

Soon, perhaps too soon, Cole found himself sitting alone in the attic, the moon shinning in the sky. Hours had passed since dinner time, and every member of the Vasily family had gone to sleep. Though, it didn’t much bother the boy that he was left with nothing but the company of Mx. Moon and Ella Froufrou, who was seated comfortably in his lap.

He stared out the windows, gaze fixed upon the winged creatures that slumbered upon the roofs of family’s and lonely people alike. There was a feeling of both uncertainty and comfort in the air, one that Cole was not yet familiar with. It felt strange to be dressed in clean clothes, curled up under a blanket and observing the stillness of Lanercost with a full stomach.

Cole thought for a moment, brows creasing as he searched his memory for what he was looking for. When he found it, he couldn’t help but smirk and let out a satisfied and partly amused sigh.

Nyctophilia.

That was the word he had been searching for. It was a noun, meaning ‘an attraction to darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.’

He smiled at the definition, though, he then began to chuckle lightly under his breath as he gazed at the stars, having suddenly remembered another bit of information he had gained from the library, just as he had the rest of his knowledge.

He had suddenly acknowledged the meaning of Nyx’s name.

Cole recalled that Nyx was the daughter of chaos, primordial goddess of the night in Greek mythology. Though the name itself leaned more towards feminine, it was still androgynous either way, which was most likely why Nyx had chosen it for themselves.

 Cole gave a small hum into the darkness, he thought it was a lovely name, and even lovelier now that he had recalled its meaning. He hoped that maybe one day the two could find a way to converse, as it was difficult to do so presently.

The boy returned his attention to the town and the candles still burning in people’s windows. There were few, but each one let him know that someone else was still awake, possibly suffering from insomnia, or simply enjoying the nighttime as Cole was.

The boy felt a small pang of something in his chest as he recalled the sounds of the violin he would often hear when drifting off to sleep in the alley of forest row; how the smooth symphony had accompanied the stars perfectly.

To see into the soul of another, you must first see into your own.

Myself, Sighlas-Rhodes