Muskan's Paradise

  You Promised Me "Don't leave me. Don't you dare leave me." A chilling scream echoed through the dark room. Claire looked at the couch where her husband had been sitting. The shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs, thick and unmoving. He was just there—then suddenly, he wasn’t. She blinked hard. Once. Twice. The cushion still bore the impression of his weight, warm and sunken, as if mocking her. Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes darting across the room. Claire was used to Dave’s constant disappearances. The first time it happened, she’d torn through the house screaming his name, thinking it was a cruel prank. But when she heard his voice humming from the kitchen an hour later—calm, casual, untouched by time—she stopped asking questions. She stopped asking a lot of things. She knew he’d come back. She told herself that every night. He would. That was the promise. The vow. He should. The room fell silent again, thick with absence. A grandfather cloc...

 You were Mine, I was Yours Standing in the center of this city, the chaos blaring loud, all my thoughts drift to you— my one and only. My mind forgets the honking horns, the tangled traffic fades— all I can think of is you. The long drives, the secret trips, the laughter in quiet places, you and I, I and you, us. I thought we’d be forever, that no day would go by without you. Now I wake up alone— no tea waiting, no brunch on the table, no arms wrapped around me. Where did those golden days go? And where can I find them again? You’re in the stars now, so far from me. I scream at the sky, at the god I’m not sure I believe in, because I don’t know what else to do. I’m still holding on— to everything that’s dead and gone. I don’t want to say goodbye, not when this one means forever . Oh, it hurts so much, for a million different reasons. You took the best of my heart, and left the rest in pieces. Digging through your old things, I find the swea...

Crown Of Lies- III   The throne room was colder now—not from winter’s bite, nor from the failing of the great hearths that usually blazed with roaring fires. It was Lena herself who sucked the warmth from the air, her presence like a creeping frost, chilling every corner as if the sun had been eclipsed by a shadow no one else could see. The once-majestic hall had become a mausoleum of silence and gloom. Velvet drapes, once crimson and vibrant, were drawn tighter against the pale daylight. The large stained-glass windows, which usually spilled kaleidoscopic colors across the marble floor, were sealed shut with thick wooden boards. Mirrors, once plentiful and polished to a reflective gleam, were now shrouded in heavy black cloth—abandoned sentinels refusing to show her fractured image. Lena’s bare feet whispered across the cold marble, their soft sound the only movement in the vast chamber. She moved restlessly, a phantom pacing a graveyard. Her silk gown, once the symbol of her ...