Original works / Original works

Vlad is a typical name of a loser who just wants to become a champion. This story tells about a guy who becomes a void for other people, trying to find his happiness. Unpleasant situations haunt him, and even competitors do not recognize the efforts and diligence of a young athlete. This story is about a boy who has known grief and hatred, but at the same time was able to prove that he can do a lot.

In a quiet corner of the world, where feelings and emotions are born, a small flower blooms. He, like a newspaper in the morning, continues to open and open, like a bunch of grapes descending from a vine. The flowers are full of bright colors, like a carnival parade, which is carefully decorated with neon lights and a light mist gently wrapping their petals.

Silence closed in deep caves, like a treasure shrouded in darkness and riddles. When I went down into the bowels of the earth, my heart sank from the feeling of the mystery of this place. Facing the damp walls of the cave, it was as if I had entered another world, where the blinding beauty of complete silence had taken refuge.

In a quiet village, far from noisy cities and the passing of time, an old Castle rested. In one of its dark corners lived Death — a mysterious and mysterious entity, the personification of the end of life.

In the sky, a bizarre weather vane, like a grotesque carousel, was spinning, spreading its wings with the wind and shining with the colors of the rainbow. Then golden-yellow, then bright red - they captivated the eye and mysteriously melted, like fleeting emotions on people's faces.

An ordinary thief with a terrible secret, dreaming of escaping from the slums of the capital to the northern lands. A friend trapped in a cage of someone else's consciousness. A guy who has lost everything except dreams of killing his own comrade. A young enthusiast striving to bring the scales of justice into balance. And these four are capable of changing the course of history in their state or destroying millions of worlds.

By the will of sugar swans, barely noticeable fish of delirium fever lock people in concrete walls.

In the fading light of autumn twilight, when the last rays of the sun penetrated through the shimmering foliage, I was crossing a slippery bridge, an unusual landscape appeared before me. The forest seemed to call me into its universe so beautiful, as if magic was in the air.

In the enchanting ballet of life, the strings of harmony of the melody will float along with every breath. In the notes of serene moments, like spring buds, a blooming crown of beautiful little things blooms. Like dew drops on the petals, they shine in the light, filling the hearts with their tenderness and joy.

Only at this time he understanding, only right now

— Did you know that I love you? – Alena asked without moving, sitting with a relaxed face, like she's asking this question every day. — Of course. — Not as a friend.

In the shadow of the evening twilight, when the last rays of sunset plunge the world into a deep sleep, the story of lies blooms like a dark flower in the glade of truth. In the heart of a small town, where trees whisper secrets to the wind, a story emerges about a man whose smile was a bright sun in gray days.

On the corner of the street, immersed in the shadow of the past days, there was an old ice cream shop. Its windows glittered like eyes in the dim light of the street lamps. Summer had left this city, but inside the shop there was another summer alive, trapped in the icy walls.

In the shadow of a starry evening, when the heavens were blooming with azure, there lived a lonely black magician. His name has been forgotten for centuries, like old lines in forgotten books. Wisdom and kindness were hidden in his heart, but his gifts were wrapped in black magic.

At the tips of the star thread, where darkness meets light, hovers the memory of an old steam locomotive, whose dreams were woven into the haze of the past. This steel giant was the living heart of the railways, and its steam legends left a shadow on the platform of time.

In a small room, sunk in semi-darkness, there was an antique table. On it, as if forgotten by the artist, lay a diary of dreams. Its cover, worn by time, was like the evening sky, tinged with shades of lilac and indigo. Everything mysterious and mysterious was hidden behind thick pages, as if in the very depths of the night sky.

In a dark corner of the city, where the rain was weaving thin threads of its jets, three entities met – a man, a robot and a demon. The evening was like a gathering of shadows, but it was in this darkness that the luminaries of fate lit up.

In ancient times, in the innermost corners of the soul of each of us, there is a mysterious garden – a world of flowers that, like stars in the night sky, bloom in moments of joy and fade in a moment of heavy grief. And so, in this garden of an ordinary person hovering in everyday life, rainbow petals bloomed and the aromas of happiness appeared, but, as in everyone's life, it was time for rain.

On the edge of the twilight pool, where the heavens lie on the earth, there lived an old philosopher. In his house, built of faded stars and ancient memories, time flowed slowly, like a viscous river of melancholy. There was a look in his eyes, like stars in the night sky, squeezed between the fingers of time.

On the outskirts of a quiet village stood an old blacksmith shop, like a forgotten page in the book of time. Its walls, upholstered with slabs of tarnished metal, seemed to keep the secrets of the past terrible days. Once upon a time, metal slicing the air sounded in this iron heart, like the melody of an ancient bard, sparkling and flashing like stars in the night sky.