cloud!

a genderfluid, mostly they/them, all pronouns user.
bisexual asf

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inspired by tjisrandom

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my birthday is december 27th, and my hobbies are writing, reading, catching up to my endless watchlist, etc...

full name and address: walter hartwell white, 308 negra arroyo lane.

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imagery i've worked on

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written art i've worked on

I killed them. But now I’m missing something, the drive to continue. Their corpse laying in front of me made me realise that they were my main incentive in life, I’m nothing without them. Killing them removed my purpose in life, what do I do now? Winning is worthless if you have nowhere to go after and I didn’t. I felt empty, perhaps they were supposed to be in my position while I laid motionless. In my entire life of seeking revenge and fantasising about the day I ended him, I never stopped to think ‘What should I do next?’.

As the church bells struck four, I was still unable to find my way out of the infinitely immeasurable woodland that I had been encased in for so long that I couldn’t remember. Had it been days? Maybe weeks? Months perhaps? I’ve stopped caring about the amount of time I’ve spent in this drab, ill-lit abyss. I’ve learned many a thing from staying here for as long as I have, for example: I can now create shelter out of logs, make fire with rocks (but I even struggle with that at the best of times due to the practically unending downpour of misery from the grey menaces up in the dull, dreary heavens above) and even hunt for my own food with an impromptu bow and arrow made out of sticks. However, despite the survival skills I’ve gained, I have lost one key life skill from the outside world: oh how I will never even be able to dream of forming a meaningful bond with another person that I won’t just end up fighting for the last scrap of available food. Despite my aching agony, I still have one hope, the last thread of my humanity, my pet wolf, Grimm. I found him on my first night here and I would die to protect him from whatever lurks in this wretched wasteland.

Never a bright moment, never a break from this drab, dull, destruction. Time escapes me, my vision slowly fading as I fight the urge to give myself just a moment of rest due to the fear that my country would consider me a failure, the same country that deceived me into believing their lies, falling into their trap and residing in their illusion. I was a fool, it should have been obvious from the start but the pressure building up due to my reluctance forced me out of the safety and plunged me deep into the hollow, empty abyss that is war. As I sit obediently, waiting for any order to come through my radio, the excruciating, fierce, razor-sharp wind violently slashes through my skin, leaving only my blood to seep out of the laceration that it granted me.