Tag "Angst" - Works and Original stories

A long time ago, in a corner of a forgotten library, an old book lay like an aging lady in a shabby ball gown. Its pages were yellow like autumn leaves, withered by time, but it hid stories that pulled deep, like the smell of old wine.

When the soul becomes as thin as glass, and you stand on the edge of your own existence, the feeling, like a flock of butterflies, beats helplessly inside you. You try to reflect your pain like a mirror splitting into a thousand pieces, which alternately cut deep wounds on your soul.

In the dark corners of the evening sky, where the clouds weave their white clouds, an invisible struggle between light and darkness flared up. In a world where suffering and hope are entwined in a tangled dance, a righteous demon was born, released to earth with a mission to save fading hearts. His eyes shone like fire, penetrating through the twilight and revealing their secrets to those who were ready to hear.

In the shadow of the spreading twilight, the gravedigger stands like a shadow among shadows. His hands, wrapped in gray gloves, glide over the ground like the brushes of an artist who creates a work of art in the deepest silence.

The last rays of the sun, drowned in the purple and orange shades of the celestial palette, cast a golden light on the facade of the house, as if they wanted to wake it from an age-old dream. The window shutters, decorated with exquisite carvings, seemed to be locked in eternal silence. The larches in the yard began to unravel their last green bunches, preparing for the upcoming winter.

A rainy evening has lowered its gray veils over the forgotten village. The old houses, like forgotten children, stood in silence, sighing under the weight of time. The autumn wind caressed the abandoned streets, bringing with it the smell of damp earth and withered leaves.

On the shore of a forgotten village, where the sea and sky merge in an indescribable cloud of silence, there lived an old fisherman named Andrey. His life was like an endless ocean full of secrets and mysteries, but at the same time it was like a long story waiting for its finale.

Nothing special, re-uploading the deleted history of the author of Teem Treem. Of course, I will change it a little: I will remove graphic errors, add some description and make a couple of moments more juicy

In the shadow of ancient hills, drowned in the blue splendor of the sky, an old vineyard is hidden. It was a place where time stood still, and the winds brought with them the whispers of the past years. It was like an old museum, containing many stories and secrets, many of which have already been lost in time.

Sometimes your own mind can become your worst enemy and sometimes even a mortal danger.

On the shore of eternity there is a lighthouse, like a guardian, towering over the boundless ocean, its stone tower seems to embrace the sky. This is a place where mysterious inspiration is combined with the bitter longing of loneliness. Inside him, in the intricate labyrinths, lives an old caretaker, whose life, like the ocean itself, is intertwined with endless waves of joys and sorrows.

The erythrocyte got terrified and wanted to scream for help, while tears were falling out of her beautiful amber eyes, but instead started to lose conscience... and what followed was complete darkness.

Through the dark clouds of the night, the windmill soared like a sad torch in the darkness. Its blades slowly turned, like the heartbeat of a forgotten village shrouded in mystery and mysticism. The mill stood at the edge of the forest, like a guardian of the night, with its silent rotation protecting the mysterious secrets hiding in the depths of the forest.

In the shade of ancient maples, amid the noise of autumn leaves, stood an old janitor, like the last guardian of an unconquered memory.

The whole baker's house was filled with a note of sweet honey, the aroma of fresh pastries, like a gentle song with nostalgic notes. There was something magical in his eyes, like the stars in the sky at dark at night.

In a quiet corner of the ancient city, among the narrow streets and abandoned houses, stood an ancient church, like the last guardian of the soul of this place. This temple has been a holy house for many centuries, and it was destined to meet the last priest who would sweep through its walls.

I never thought it would be so hard to say goodbye to someone to be close to you. But unfortunately, we have to do this sometimes. So, I have no choice. I understand there is no point in trying to change something because everything is hopeless in my case. This is my goodbye letter for those, who truly wanted to make me a little happier but did not manage to help me trust them and open my heart and my soul to them...

In a distant city, where time flowed slowly like honey in spring, there lived an old lamplighter named Abraham. He was like the last guardian of the night, but instead of a sword, he carried a metal torch in his hands, which illuminated the streets of this forgotten place. Abraham was older than the city itself, and his face, covered with wrinkles, was like a map on which all the nights he had experienced were carved.

I’m just a little homeless kitten that feels lonely and is learning how to survive in this world full of bad and good people. At some moment, I almost lost hope that I would find a warm home and a loving owner. But one day, I meet the people, who I instantly get sympathy for. My cat’s gut tells me they could take me with them and give me everything I’m dreaming about…

In a mysterious palace, standing on the edge of the twilight reality, a handsome prince lived, sighing heavily, whose life was a pattern of dreams and hopes. He was a gift of fate, something that could conquer the very horizons. But, like walking clouds, the eyelids of fate revealed their plans.