The Diary Of A Lunatic

By William Malave

The Diary Of A Lunatic is an anthology consisting of short stories and poems. The main plot is centered around a possessed tree, whose dark magic aims to conquer and eventually feed the Earth to its master on a moon far away from our solar system. There are several different genres present, including Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Action and Adventure, Romanc

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Tyrese Malave
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798989052912

Book preview

Contents

A

Admirer

Amber

Annoyance

Anxiety

A Piece Of Him Hit Me

B

Beneficial To Society

Boat

Broken

Bullet Casing

C

Campfire Lover

Candid Wind

Canvas

Chrysanthemum Rose

Clouds

Comfort

Conquering The Lidopy Tower

D

Dead Zone Of Ryish

Deserter

Disembowelment

Disgrace

Ditch

Don’t Give In

Dunnes

E

Edden’s Rest

Elsewhere

Emerald Water

Empty Sign

Evidence

Eyes

F

Failed To Find Friends

Fickle

Food War

Freedom

G

Gaining Ground

Glance

God Help Me

Gone

Grove

Guard

H

Heist

Home

Household Horrors

How Have You Been

Hypocrite

I

I Dreamt Of Her Again

I Fell Down A Hole

In Case

In There It Is Warm

J

Jackson

June And Her Offspring

Justified

K

Kaitlyn

Kid

Kindness

King

L

Lemon

Living With Nathan

Lonely

Long Day

M

Mard

Maggie’s Corner

Maimed

Message

Mikey

N

Newcomer

Nightmare

Nuisance

O

Occurrence

October

On The Edge Of Winter

Order

P

Paper Sky

Paradise

Perseverance

Present

Q

Questions

Quietly I Sit

Quirky

Quivona

R

Rain

Reach

Resin

Return

Roses In Autumn

Roses In Autumn (Alternative)

S

Scars

Shazy

She Broke My Heart

Someone

Spring

T

Tears

The Prison

Things

Today

U

Ugly

Underneath Your Bed

Undertaking

Unnerving Space

V

Velerum

Verdict

Victim

W

Wall

Warrior’s Path

When The Air Turns Blue

White

Whoreson

X

Xanax

Xerient Of Simplicity

Xerient’s Poems: Entry 10

Xerient’s Poems: Entry 11

Y

Yarn

You Are Just Like Me

Young

YRCHJSN

Z

Zeriya

Zigrir

Zonara

Zooming In On Earth: By Dayla Leom

A Note From Me To You

Acknowledgments

A

Admirer

It was harder because I could see her, clear as day, every day. She lived in the apartments adjacent to my own, her bedroom window a bit lower than mine. Sometimes I would watch her, as she got dressed, as she made phone calls, or attended classes on her laptop. I would see her room life, so it felt as though I was a small part of her daily routine. Sometimes she would look, and I would lock eyes with her for a moment, and she would smile and continue about her business. She knew I was there watching, and I guess she liked it that way. If I wanted, I could visit her, say hello in person, and make some sort of move. But my anxiety was too strong for that. Being near people terrified me, but I had never wanted to be near someone more.

I usually stayed indoors, biding my time and keeping my fears in check by studying or researching things I wanted to know more about. I played video games sometimes, I even began drawing her, casually at first, but then it became more detailed, more lifelike. It got to a point where I was able to capture her actions in fine lines. I showed it to her one night, and she smiled with all of her teeth. She was gorgeous, her hair long and brown, her skin tanned and flawless, she looked like a supermodel. It hadn’t dawned on me that someone so pretty was rarely without a partner, and it turns out that was true. She brought him in one day, while I was sketching her dog who lay calmly on the bed. He was tall, dark-skinned, and had curly hair with blonde highlights. He was handsome, I had to give him that.

I watched as the two kissed, him more dominant, gripping the back of her head in his strong hand, using the other to hoist her leg up to his stomach. I saw how tight he held her, the imprint his finger made on her jean thigh. I blushed and ducked away, leaving my things to go and grab something to eat, anything to avoid having to watch anymore.

After the first time, it happened more often. Sometimes he’d come in to just kiss her, other times they would sit and talk for hours, while I sat and tried to ignore wanting to stare at her face or glare at his. She barely looked my way anymore, and when she did it was usually to look at something other than me or to see if his car had arrived in the driveway. I started to hate him and began drawing dark images of him being mutilated or decapitated. I sighed as I stared out of my window one night, feeling heartbroken and alone. She was my only comfort, the only part of my day that involved a person that I didn’t mind. I would go to the store and basically run from others, and if I had to talk to the cashier my voice would break and my skin would crawl. Most days I would pretend to be sick to try and convince myself that I couldn’t go outside, or that I couldn’t go get food to feed myself. My refrigerator was almost empty, and I had already played sick for the past few days, so I decided to step out. I was already nervous leaving the room, but I couldn’t stay any longer.

When I came back, I was fine. A woman in the store paid for my groceries because I’d helped her carry somethings. I stocked my refrigerator and sat in my chair, lining my papers on the table and taking a glance out the window.

There she sat, writing something down on paper while her boyfriend kissed her neck. I sighed and picked up my pencil, beginning to draw a bird that was perched above her windowsill. Her boyfriend left, leaving her to her writing and me to my drawing. I hadn’t looked at her for a long while, considering I was nearly done with the sketch, so I poked my head up and saw her sobbing at her desk. I felt a pain in my heart, and I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know how. Well, I knew how, I just didn’t like the aspect where I would have to talk to her. But her eyes were pouring, I could even see the wet splotches on her papers. So, I did something I was entirely against and opened my window. I picked an eraser to throw, and it hit her pane with a thud. She looked up, watery steel eyes staring into my own. I waved, unsure of what to do at that exact moment. She wiped her face and nose with her sweater sleeves and opened her window. My heart started beating faster, and my hands instinctively went up to close mine, but I hesitated, letting her stick her head out to speak.

Hey. It was the first time she’d spoken to me, and I was already in love with her voice. It was a smidge raspy from crying, but I could hear a lightness to it, a sort of innocence. Hearing her speak made me feel calmer than I could have imagined.

Hey, I nervously chuckled, feeling tingles on my neck and arms, are you okay? I asked her even though I knew the answer.

Never been better, she sniffled.

I don’t know what to say really, I’m not good at talking to people.

People in general?

Yeah. I get anxious around them, paranoid, and all these other feelings that are just awful, so I just avoid them.

The feelings or the people?

People. That’s why I haven’t really talked to you. I said it slowly, not knowing if the words sounded cruel or not.

I was wondering why you never spoke. I thought you were just too shy.

Don’t take it off the table. She laughed at that, and she made me laugh. I liked her laugh. You have a nice smile. I didn’t mean to say it, and my heart skipped a beat.

Thank you. She smiled warmly, her teeth showing, her cheeks blushing. You do too. My face was flushed red. It has some sort of…calming effect to it.

Really? I asked, dumbfounded by the compliment.

Yeah. She stared at me, just smiling, reciprocating my uncontrollable toothy grin. She sat in her windowsill now, and tilted her head back against the frame, exposing a bit of her neck, which caused my heart to pulse. She noticed me staring and said, You do know I have a boyfriend, right?

My discomfort peaked. Yeah, I saw. I started playing with things on my table to distract myself. Is he why you were crying today?

She looked out at the moon. Sort of. He didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that he isn’t here all the time. His family’s work requires him to travel to all these crazy places, so it’s rare for him to be around longer than a day or two. He got to spend a full week with me this time, and that was the longest I’ve seen him consecutively for years. I get lonely. She didn’t take her eyes off of the moon but adjusted herself to sit further out onto the ledge.

You have me? I said it as more of a question but meant it all the same. She glanced in my direction and then put a hand up for an air five. I responded and we both laughed.

Thank you. It would be nice if I could have someone to talk to. All of my friends live far off on work assignments, so I’m left here to fend for myself.

I’d be glad to be your friend. What’s your name?

Joy. You?

Royce. Nice to meet you, Joy.

Nice to meet you too, Royce. She laid her head back against the frame and continued staring at the moon.

I climbed into my sill and copied her, dangling a leg over the edge and peering out at the distant light. Our moon was shaped oblong rather than spherically, due to mining operations done by the MUA, or the Montan United Army, years ago. The reflection it produced was affected by this disfigurement, making half of her body and half the apartment covered in shadow. Looking at her like that reminded me of her beauty. But seeing the side of her in darkness, the part that was hidden and shadowed, made me nervous. I didn’t know who she was beyond looks and a conversation. Maybe it would make this new friendship more interesting, maybe it will make it more difficult? Either way, I was happy to talk to her at least. If I couldn’t have her romantically, I wouldn’t mind her as a friend. She turned again, her one eye locking onto mine, and for a moment, she didn’t smile, she only stared into my searching eyes. I felt a coldness for a moment, but it passed as she smirked. It was probably just my imagination.

Amber

Supposedly it’s beautiful.

The way it looks in the sunlight I suppose.

The way that it encases things.

The way it comes from the earth I suppose it’s quite natural.

The way it can hang from one’s neck as jewelry.

The way it holds a place in the human eye.

The way it gives meaning to a gift I suppose it’s romantic.

An enigma of natural and unnatural beauty.

It can hold no bounds and can wither no whisper.

It is extraordinary.

I suppose it is perfect.

As it can light a world without fire.

As it can bring love to dull fantasies.

As it can bring happiness to the unhappy.

I suppose it is exquisite, in its entirety, an amber.

Annoyance

There’s this feeling

That all is not right

Even when I’m smiling

Or when I feel content in my heart

There’s this small, small thing

This morsel of sensation

That something is off

And it’s consistent

It’s noticeable

In the way I talk

The way I approach things

The way I do things

There’s a hint of annoyance

At everything

Like the world is just some awful place

Yet I don’t think that

I never think that people are awful

Or that there’s some sort of problem

But deep down it’s there

In my heart

Annoyance

It bothers me so much

That I can see it

People can see it

Like I’m not meant to be there

Or here

Or anywhere really

Maybe I’m just not meant to be

Usually, my mind takes me there

To that place of insignificance

Where I’m small and everyone else is large

Or where I’m unnoticed but everything else is flashy

And interesting

But there isn’t any interest in me

At least I can see it

The annoyance

That constant bother to my well-being

It haunts me

But in some way it makes me feel normal

Like no matter what I do

There will be a problem with it

And a part of me will hate everything

Even what I love

Somehow I’m more human, I’m grounded

But I’m also stuck in the space between

Where nothing makes sense

And no one can hear me

But at least I know the feeling

And I can take my one understanding

Of annoyance

A part of me likes to think that makes me okay

But I know in the end I’m lying to myself.

Anxiety

It’s an awful feeling.

A nervous itch that consistently needs to be scratched.

I can try to describe it as best I can.

I’m in a room.

There are a few people around, all of them doing their own thing.

Already, I can feel the ache in my stomach.

No one has said anything to me yet.

Do they not like me?

Do I smell or something?

I sniff my underarms and I don’t smell anything.

Then I start to sniff the air, and I get a whiff of something.

An off smell, but bad enough to be considered stink.

Then I think it’s on me.

And then I get anxious.

All it would take is one look in my direction.

Then someone does.

Now I stink, there’s a smell and it’s me.

They can smell me.

I try to distract myself.

I think of other things.

It’s quiet.

People are talking but it isn’t enough noise.

They can hear me.

They can hear my breaths.

I’m breathing too loud.

Too fast.

I need to be quieter.

Breathe less.

Is my hair okay?

Do they think it looks bad?

I can feel the hairs on my shoulder.

Is it too long?

My head gets hot.

I can physically feel my hair moving.

I’m overheating.

Someone looks in my direction.

They know I’m uncomfortable.

They didn’t say it but I think it, and it becomes reality.

Now I’m even more uncomfortable.

I’m nervous.

There are too many things wrong with me.

My stomach has started to rumble.

Can they hear it?

They haven’t acknowledged it.

But they hear it.

I know it.

They care.

It bothers them.

I have to leave.

I can’t be here anymore.

I’m making them upset.

I’m upset.

So I stand.

My chair is a bit moist.

I’ve been sweating.

They’ll see it and judge me.

I have to slyly wipe it away.

They’re watching.

My neck feels tense.

I scratch my head.

It was too loud.

They’re all looking.

I need to just leave.

I start walking.

My footsteps are echoing throughout the room.

I know they don’t care.

But deep down.

They’re saying things.

I can hear all of their inner thoughts.

Something’s wrong with him.

He’s not okay.

He’s too loud.

He’s disgusting.

He’s weird.

I’m walking faster to the door.

It’s so far.

Their thoughts get louder and louder.

My stomach rumbles harder.

I get to the door and open it quickly, leaving straight away.

I stand outside the room, slowly breathing.

Trying to calm myself.

I take a moment.

Look at the door.

Then the hallway.

I take the hallway.

I can’t go back in there.

I ran away.

This is social anxiety.

It’s uncomfortable, it’s hard.

Just slow yourself.

Breathe.

People have their own agendas, their own thoughts, and problems.

They’re focused on themselves, not you.

You are fine.

You can be there.

You can be still.

You are okay.

It’s a mantra that keeps me sane half the time and hopefully, it can help you too.

A Piece Of Him Hit Me

It was so sudden

Screams were in both ears

And I still couldn’t hear anything

Over how terrible it was

The focused silence of shock

It held me

I stared at the mess of man and meat

Splattered on the ground

A three-minute fall

His body had become a pile

Like a shattered glass of red wine

He was everywhere

And a piece of him hit me

I felt it on my face

The speck of human flesh and innard

The blood trickled down my cheek

Causing me to panic

I was dry heaving

Barely able to contain myself

Choking on horror

I went home and it followed me

Into my bedroom

Where I lay and stare at the ceiling

My eyes wouldn’t shut

I kept hearing it.

The heavy thud

The squelch

The crack of his bones

It kept repeating

Every time

The piece would hit my face

And I’d be stuck there

The next morning I heard it everywhere

The noise

The drip of water from the sink faucet

The lap of water against metal

Splick, splick, splick

And that number

Three

Three-minute fall

Three friends to hang out with

Three slices of pizza

Three minutes till I left the house

Three, three, three

The details were consistent.

I went back to that place

They had cleaned him off of the street

But I could still see the corpse

The mangled and broken man.

I lay there

Felt the heat of the concrete

Against my hands and cheek

I smelled the chemicals they used to clean it

I heard the moment over and over

I could still feel it there

That piece of him on my face

The blood slowly trickling down

He was, for a moment, a part of me

Maybe that’s why I lay there

Cooking under the sun

I closed my eyes

And breathed slowly

Taking in the light

Feeling the morning air

It was so warm

And I could feel exhaustion taking me

So I sighed

And slept on the street.

B

Beneficial To Society

Today I can stand on my own two legs and say yes

Yes I am a member of society

I’ve done more good than I could have ever dreamed

From a proud little boy covered in grease stains in my father’s garage

To the proud owner of over 5,000 of the world’s finest vehicles

From land to air to sea, I have it all!

[Crowd cheers and applauds]

Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you this is no gloat

Nor is it a way for me to advertise myself

This is me telling you from the heart that it’s possible to become bigger than yourself

To rise from somewhere small to somewhere incredible

That’s why today, I want to make this an opportunity

For all the beautiful children of Amerasia

To experience the wealth and prosperity that I do

I present to you the BTS machine

Beneficial. To. Society.

[Curtains reveal a large device, painted blood red and pierced thoroughly by wires]

Within here, people will become more than they ever were, and it starts with the children

[Masked men raid the crowd. Screams and shouting can be heard from all over]

[Children are hauled unwillingly to the stage, where the machine bursts to life]

With this sort of power, there is a price to pay

[The machine opens, revealing several small deteriorating corpses and skeletal remains]

And I’m willing to pay it tenfold

[Children are thrown into the whirring machine with force]

[The machine hums in satisfaction as it devours them whole, spewing blood into its tubes]

Oh, Father, you’d be so proud.

Boat

This story contains suicidal themes

Day 1:

The boat rocked steadily on the waves. The wind touched the passengers’ faces, cooling their weather-worn skin. The captain stood on the bridge, his black, shadowy silhouette peering down at the front deck, where all of the seats were set, overlooking the water. There were eight of them, seven taken by men wearing suits and ties, and each harboring a black suitcase, which sat by the sides of their seats. They all stared forward with blank expressions, watching the waves as the boat pressed forward, and forward, and forward, never stopping, and never speeding up. Night fell, and they watched, all the way into the next day.

Day 2:

The boat rocked steadily on the waves. The wind touched the passengers’ faces, cooling their weather-worn skin. The captain stood on the bridge, his black, shadowy silhouette peering down at the passenger deck. There was a column of smoke above his head, most likely from a cigar, given his status. All of the seats on the boat were on the deck, just overlooking the water. There were eight seats, seven of them filled with men wearing suits and ties, harboring small black briefcases, which were uniformly by the sides of their seats. One of the briefcases clicked open, and landed on the wooden boards with a thud, revealing an empty compartment.

The captain’s silhouette vanished, leaving behind nothing but a fading column of smoke. The man whose suitcase had opened stood from his seat, his black flats squeaking along the floorboards as he walked towards the edge of the boat. The water slowed, easing the waves and settling. The wind died down and the sun shined brighter. The man reached the edge and let himself fall off of the boat. There was a splash, and then ripples in the water, as he disappeared beneath the reflection of the sun. The rest looked forward, watching as the sun shined, the wind picked up, and the boat moved against the waves.

Day 3:

Waves crashed against the boat. The storm had picked up after all except one of the men had jumped off the boat. The one that remained kept watching the waves. He kept staring and staring and staring.

Day 4:

His suitcase clicked. It was a slight sound, but loud enough to alert him. He straightened his tie and looked down, eyeing the now-open case next to him. A photograph fell out of the suitcase, sliding onto the deck. He watched it, terrified of the possibility of what could be on it. He slowly, carefully picked up the photograph and stared blankly at the woman in it. She had dark hair, a smile whiter than paper, and brighter than the sun. The waves were calmer now, and everything had quieted. There were no birds. There were no fish. There were no creatures at all except for the captain on the bridge, who stared down at the man’s confused and weathered face.

The captain watched as he grabbed the photograph and slipped it into a pocket inside of his suit. He stared at the calm ocean water and watched it move with a gentleness like that of a mother holding her newborn baby. He peered over the edge, staring into the never-ending blue. There was no sign of anything moving beneath it. An urge came over him, a bright burning passion that seemed to dull all of his senses. He stepped over the edge and let himself fall forward, his body releasing as it hit the water. It felt lighter than air as he sank, his obstructed sight focusing on the captain’s murky silhouette, peering down at him. He softened his gaze and let his eyes slowly close, feeling the water encompass his body and his clothes. His hand closed around the picture in his pocket, and he turned to face the bottom of the ocean, slowly opening his eyes to fix his gaze on the city beneath the waves.

Broken

Scattered thoughts on every occasion.

Every obstacle hurts less and less

When there are already so many

I’ve lost my way.

Through the twists and bends of this forsaken road

A path of constant constraint and confusion

I’m stuck here

My will bent to the force of my broken mind.

There is something wrong

With the way I think and feel

The way people die in my head

The way I seclude myself from the outside

I have a problem

A serious issue in my brain and heart

I want to love and be loved

But everything hurts, and I’ve lost my way.

I can’t hope for the pain to end.

There’s cruelty here, on this road

Where I am forced to watch everyone else go by

They take the easy route

They’re free to choose

They look happy

So why am I upset?

Why do I suffer the way I do?

Who’s here to love me anymore?

Who’s here to free me from this shattered path?

I watch the road turn and shift in size and shape

Wondering why I was encased in these brambles and twigs

Why my body was left to the whims of nature while they were left alone

Why am I the weakest link?

What happened to me?

Am I truly this awful of a person

To be strangled by the Earth herself?

Am I that much of a disgrace?

My eyes get tired of watching them pass

Their smug faces and simple lives

They aren’t special

They’re ordinary

Less than even

Night approaches and I feel my body being pulled back

My arms and legs are folded unnaturally, but I’m used to the pain

They never see me

They didn’t listen to my cries so I stopped pleading

Stopped hoping for an escape.

I let it take me

My mind and soul in this constant form of misery

I was content with this sorrow

I receded into the tree.

Bullet Casing

This story contains suicidal themes

Hello? Helloooo? Jake, where are you?

Sorry my cat just like, hold on. Goddamnit Harry, stop it! There were sounds of him moving the cat around. Okay, I put him in the room. Can you hear him scratching the door?

Yeah, she laughed, What are you doing today? I’m gonna be free for the next like, twenty-four hours.

I didn’t have anything planned-

Great! We can go out to the mall. I saw this really cute pair of sneakers in the shoe store, you remember right? The ones with the pink stripe? He went quiet, and she could hear him breathing softly. Jake?

I don’t feel like going out today, Liz.

Oh, okay. Is everything alright?

Yeah, it’s just some stuff with my assignments, having trouble focusing lately.

Mmm, she video-called him, and he declined it. Did something happen with-

Don’t worry about it, Liz. He laid his head back on his pillow and sighed, a deep, heavy breath of exasperation.

Talk to me, Jake. You know I don’t like when you close off like this. She adjusted her position on her bed.

It’s really nothing, just a long day.

Are you sure?

Can you stop asking me please? His tone shifted, and he tried to reel himself back.

Well, you don’t have to have an attitude. I was just asking.

Yeah, but all this ‘are you sure’ shit is really getting on my nerves.

I only said it once.

You say it all the fucking time. It’s- he could hear how mean he was being and sighed. She sniffled on the other end.

I’m sorry.

No, I am. I shouldn’t have let this get to me so much. Today just sucked is all. Stuff at work and then I came home, and my mom was crying. It’s just a mess.

Tell me what happened. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand and wiped her face.

Two people are in the hospital because of me. She gasped. I misread the instructions for this device and it malfunctioned after I had set it up. One of them is missing a forearm and the other broke their skull open.

Oh, my god. Did anything happen to you?

No. I was standing farther away, and I didn’t even see the first one, but I did see the girl take a blow to the head by one of the extensions. They just told everyone to go home for the day while they figured out what happened and who to put the blame on.

I’m so sorry that happened to you, Jake. Have you heard anything yet?

No. She heard his voice break and decided to stay quiet for a moment. She listened to him, heard soft whimpers as he tried to fight his tears.

Jake, do you need me to come over? He sniffled.

No, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. The words made her entire body tense up.

You sure? I could just drive over.

No, it’s okay. He sniffled again, and she heard him rummaging through his drawer.

Jake. He didn’t answer. She heard more rummaging, and then a latch being opened. Jake!

Yeah?

What are you doing?

I’m just looking through my things.

Put it back. She said it with as demanding of a tone as she could.

Put what back?

You know what. He let out a deep sigh, and she waited to hear the latch close again, but the sound didn’t come.

Jake, I said-

I heard what you said! She heard him throw the gun onto the ground.

What the fuck, Jake? We talked about this.

I know! He took a deep breath. I know. He said it calmer, but the frustration was still audible.

Breathe. In and out. You’re okay. Do you need to call Dr. Lou?

I already did. He told me to do my exercises and to find a way to calm down. He couldn’t stay on the phone, he had an emergency at his house.

Well, I’m here now. Did you do everything?

Yes, it didn’t help. I’m angry, Liz, I’m really angry, and it isn’t going away. All of my breathing, all of my meditation, all of this bullshit isn’t fucking working.

Jake, please calm down.

These awful things keep happening to me, Liz. Over and over, with my mom, my dad, Wesley, and Daniella at work, it’s just…everything is wrong right now.

I know it’s hard right now, but you can’t control this stuff. It’s not all on you.

"It is, Liz, my dad would never have hit her if I was here instead of working the extra shift that I chose!"

Hit her? He was silent for a minute. Jake, your dad hit your mom?

I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.

Jake, how long has this been going on?

It’s not like that, he’s normally more in control.

Jake! Answer the question.

Three months. He’s been coming home from work late, drunk off his ass and sometimes he hits her, sometimes he doesn’t. If I’m there I can stop him, keep him under control. I have been. Today he just slipped up.

What the fuck, Jake? Why didn’t you tell me?

I didn’t want to add another issue to your long list of issues. He said it sarcastically, and she was offended.

What’s that supposed to mean?

You know exactly what I mean, Liz.

No, I don’t think I do. Tell me, what long list of issues I have?

The divorce, Miranda, Michael who for some reason was at your house yesterday, she scoffed, the list goes on and on with shit you’re doing and dealing with. This is just another thing.

First off, Michael came to pick up his shit that he left here. And I don’t even know how you knew he was here while you were at work. Are you lying to me about that too?

"I never lied about anything. Terrance texted me saying he saw Michael’s car in your driveway. Better yet, he said he saw you two moving around in your room."

He was grabbing his things! She started to yell now, which just fueled him more.

"Oh sure, Liz, he was ‘grabbing’ his things. Is that what he was doing in January too? When he came over to see you because his heart got broken by the girl he cheated on? Or am I seeing things wrong here?"

He needed someone, Jake. Just like you or I do when we’re in pain. It’s called asking for help, something you don’t do as often as you should.

Don’t try to turn this on me, Liz. I know how this guy is, and I know how you are. All friendly and shit until ‘uh oh Jake, I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Please forgive me’ becomes the fucking phrase of the day.

Fuck you!

I told you I didn’t want him over there anymore. So what the fuck happened, Liz, huh? What happened while I was at work?

I told you he was grabbing his things. She started crying.

You really expect me to believe that?

Yes! It’s the truth Jake, I swear. He sighed and set his phone down on the table.

Fuck this, Liz! Fuck all of this! She heard him smash something in his room. Shattered glass lined his carpet.

Why won’t you believe me?

"Because you are a fucking liar." He said the word liar with so much disdain she felt it in her heart.

What are you even talking about?

"Terrance saw him kissing you. You were right, I did lie about something else. He said he saw you two kissing, and I wanted to believe that you’d tell me, at least be fucking honest with me, Liz, after everything we’ve been through, you could at least give me some fucking honesty, but no, you chose to lie. So I guess we’re both liars, huh?"

She was quiet. Quiet for a long time. Then he heard her door shut, and the sound of her getting back into bed.

Where did you go?

You want to play with guns, two can play that game.

Liz, go put your dad’s gun back please. He was rubbing his temples, and his heart was starting to pound.

No. She clicked the magazine into place and turned the safety off. I’ve turned the safety off.

Liz, what the fuck is your problem?

My problem? I wasn’t the one who came in here with a gun in their hand.

Alright then. He put the gun to his head and flipped the safety off. "My safety is off, and it’s in my happy spot."

Don’t fuck with me right now, Jake.

I’m being dead serious.

Why do you always do this to me? Why do you always make me feel like the victim?

"Make you the victim? I just found out you cheated on me for the second time, and you want to play the victim here? That’s funny, real funny stuff, Liz. She scoffed. When do you start your comedy act?"

Jake, I’m tired of this constant bullshit with you. One minute you’re fine and the next everything blows up because you have a hissy fit. And I didn’t kiss him, He tried to kiss me and I pushed him away, maybe next time ask your fucking friend-

You really think I believe that? After everything you did the first time you think I’m gonna fall for that shit again?

There isn’t shit to fall for!

Yes, there is Liz! I’m tired of doing this over and over with you!

Real casual, Jake wants to believe his best friend over his girlfriend!

At least Terrance doesn’t lie to me!

You lied to me this whole goddamn time! You can’t play that card!

I don’t want this anymore, Liz, we are fucking done!

God! Always willing to run away, how many more times are we gonna break up for a day or two and then fuck in your car?!

Fuck you!

"No fuck you, Jake! I put up with your bullshit every minute of every day, and I sit here and try to be supportive for you, sacrificing my time and my energy to be fucking lied to, and blamed for something I didn’t do? I am done, Jake. Not you, me!"

You’re so full of shit! Banging at the door. Hold the fuck on! He wiped tears from his face.

You’re fucking pathetic, Jake. All of this shit and still I can hear you crying like the baby that you are.

You’re one to talk, you’ve been crying from the fucking start!

I’ve been crying since I met you! Our whole relationship has been nothing but pain and I can’t take it anymore!

Then pull the fucking trigger, Liz! End it all like you keep telling me you want to, just fucking do it!

"Me? You’re the fucking suicidal waste of space! Why don’t you pull the trigger, huh? Show me how much of a man you are!"

Go ahead Liz, blow your brains out!

Maybe I will!

And maybe I will!

Then do it!

You fucking do it!

A gunshot, a body dropping on a floor, a bullet casing hitting the ground.

A moment of silence, unadulterated shock, and then another gunshot, another body, and another bullet casing echoed in the silence.

C

Campfire Lover

The fire crackled softly under the moonlight.

Embers drifted slowly through the air.

The sky was black, with a few stars to compliment the darkness.

They sat along the beach, listening to each other speak and laugh.

She felt the fire’s warmth against her skin and stared into it with longing.

She was enticed by the flames, the heat, and the smell of smoke.

He sat next to her and sighed as he stared at the sky.

She didn’t acknowledge him and continued to watch the flames lick at the air.

He sipped his beer, and she took a moment to glance in his direction.

The lip of the bottle left his mouth, leaving excess moisture.

He bit his lip, then slowly licked the fluid from it.

She watched as he leaned back, his short, gelled hair shifting with the change of space.

He had hairy arms, and his neck and face were completely smooth.

There was a blemish on his left cheek and a small scar on his temple.

He wore a red flannel that brought out the blue in his eyes.

His black pants and boots matched perfectly, and his gray shirt was a nice offshoot.

She stared at his body, noticing the sturdy frame, his chiseled jaw, and his picture-perfect face.

Then she turned back to the flame.

It was hotter now.

She sat back a bit, clearing her throat and feeling the sweat start to trickle to her brow.

She began to remove her jacket.

She slowly unzipped it and turned to face him, meeting his eyes behind his bottle.

But he was already staring.

He watched as she removed her outerwear, revealing a black crop top.

She had a piercing in her belly button and a small tattoo of butterflies on her left forearm.

She tilted her neck to massage it, and he stared at the muscles, watching them move.

He wanted to feel them for himself.

To be the hand that massaged her now, to run his fingers along her auburn skin.

He sipped his beer, hiding his smile, but holding the stare she gave him.

He watched her hand move as she slowly caressed her shoulder through her shirt.

She let her hand glide along her skin until she reached the waistline of her sweatpants.

He mimicked her, placing the tip of his fingers just inside his briefs.

For a moment, they stared.

The crackle of the fire and the gentle push of water against the sand were the only audible noises.

The fire seemed to grow, and they both felt the intense heat it provided.

They moved in sync as they touched themselves.

The flame kicked up into the night sky, and the embers drifted toward the moon.

Candid Wind

Soft and gentle.

It would press against your ears, cupping your head in its wispy hold.

And it would tell you its secrets.

Breathy words patter your eardrum.

Melodic vowels vibrate against your neck and body.

Its hold would grow around you, and the coolness of the wind would wrap you in a calming bubble of fresh air and gentle wisps.

Your body would feel like it was floating, akin to being pressed against a cloud.

Your skin would tingle, tickled by fascination.

Your mind would soothe and lay waste to stubborn thoughts and animosity.

You would feel complete pleasure, amazing happiness.

And then as fast as it appeared, it will have left you.

The breeze would drift away from your shivering body.

And you would watch as the unseeable pleasure floated onward.

Its soft hand caressed your face as it whisked away.

To join the rest of the gentle breeze, pushing against the morning.

Canvas

He sighed, toying with the brush in his hands.

His hand jerked but he ignored it, staring at the empty canvas.

A solid piece of white paper.

His hand jutted, and he ignored it.

His eye twitched.

A blank slate.

He dipped the brush into his maroon acrylic paint.

He focused on the center of the canvas.

Before him, different concepts and art styles appeared on the canvas.

One is a sprawling environment, set in a world of fantasy.

A golden dragon resting deep in the forest, surrounded by trees of silver.

An outcast, out of place, even in a world where beauty is everywhere.

His leg jutted out, but he stabilized himself in his chair.

The picture shifted, now showing a border of flames.

Within them sat intestines, which changed to hands, which changed to malformed bodies.

The bodies all reached or pointed in some way to the center.

There, a box sat on a jagged pillar of corpses.

Blood seemed to drip along with the background, to pour down the seams.

His hand jerked and he dropped his brush.

He re-dipped it and focused back on the blank page.

The hellish picture had left and was replaced by a single black dot.

The black dot seemed to move on its own, spreading to every edge of the paper.

Then it began to make shapes, and figures, then to build a world, all stemming from that single dot.

The source became the centerpiece for a web of intricate fantastical structures and drawings.

Everything complimented everything, and the black helped to focus the eyes more.

It was the perfect one-color piece, a style he’d lacked in his collection.

His eye twitched fiercely, and he had to take a pill from his bottle.

After some chewing and a fit of wincing, he calmed and returned to the canvas.

Of course, he’d lost it, that wonderful, all-black marvel.

He cursed his disability and tried to focus on the next idea.

But none came.

He couldn’t tell whether he was having another fit or if he had simply lost his creative flow for the day.

Then it came, the rush of creativity.

He began painting, stroke after stroke of the brush

The masterpiece coming to fruition with every breath and every movement of his limbs.

He furiously stroked and prodded and brushed and seized

As the world around him became a blur of emotion and energy

And fear and trauma.

He let the paintbrush tell his story

And there, as he stood, breathing slowly, admiring his work

He felt truly calm

And yet, it wasn’t perfect.

Chrysanthemum Rose

Ivory, indulging ingenuity basking in a beautiful radiance

Genius genes of a gregarious nature, bonding with all it touches

And a simple yet estranged shape

Why it sat there, bathing in its perfection was quite unclear

Maybe even unwieldy, what with the taut nature it provoked.

Surely, there were more

More wondrous, fantastically obnoxious shapes

What could they be?

Is there not some defined curvature

Or bashful and intricate linework that evaded the layman eye?

Perhaps it was a flower, yes!

That was it

Studying that fine thing made it finally clear.

It was a uniquely beautiful thing

The colors were silver and creme, with a layer of sheen to top it off

From the gentle folds of its almost crystalline petals to the wispy strands of vine

The ones that gently integrated with the Earth below it, rather than rooting like a tree

Of the flowers being studied, the Chrysanthemum Rose may be the most peculiar

Its name is the most reasonable in terms of its attributes and foundational appearance

It swayed as the wind shifted, and all of a sudden, it turned and faced forward

As if it was studying the researchers themselves

They stared down at the shimmering flower, entranced by the way it sparkled in the light

And that faint glimpse of sentience was obscured by the enthralling glow of its petals.

Clouds

I see you there

We both float among the others

And I can see you

Your figure gently glides toward the surface

You turn to face me

And our eyes lock

I can almost feel the increase in your heartbeat

Taste the sweat on your brow

It was the same for you, wasn’t it?

As you maneuvered between people, could you feel it too?

The pull on your heart

The burden of want that tried to hold you here

The desire to stare at me and fantasize

To hold me tight and never let go

I know that you feel it

I feel it too

Its a force stronger than any I’ve ever faced

An emotion so strong it binds me

Whenever I see you

Yet you flew past

I know that you felt it

But you resisted it

You resisted me

My heart should be broken

I should feel like you don’t care as much

Or that you don’t think about me

At least not as much as I think of you

But instead, I ignore those thoughts

And I follow you

Flying through the clouds

Gently pushing past other people

I follow your hair

Those golden locks

They shine nearly as brightly as you do

I track you through each person

Jumping from gust of wind to gust of wind

Until we were below the clouds

And all alone

You turned

You knew I was following

We were nearly inseparable

So how could you leave so easily?

You gently closed the distance

Never breaking eye contact

You were so close I could almost touch you

But there was a space between us

You stared into my eyes

Speechless

I felt the same

I wanted to do so much with you

So much to you

To tell you what you mean to me

To try and explain myself

Give my speech on how hard it was

All of my urges and desires

How crazy you made me feel

But I just hovered there

My hair getting slightly frizzy from the cloud above

You laughed

I hadn’t heard you laugh for a long time

So I joined you

And we kept laughing

Watching each other

Until your breaths died down

And you touched me

Pressing your soft finger against my cheek

As you kissed me slowly, your lips warm and pleasant

Then you pulled yourself away

And kissed my forehead

Placing a hand on my chest and subtly pushing

Creating space

Then you flew downward

I could feel each tear fall as you did

I knew you were crying

I was too.

Comfort

Dedicated to Charlie

I wake up in your embrace, your arms entangled in mine.

Our bodies are bare, and I can feel your smooth skin caressing my own.

You sleep almost soundly, with a faint whisper of a snore that gracefully escapes your lips.

Your breasts cushion my torso, and your feet rub against my own, our toes wiggling together.

In this moment, you are mine.

There is nothing aside from us and the silky comfort of our bed.

But the comfort wouldn’t be there without you.

It’s easy to find myself relaxed and happy when you’re with me.

I am quick to please and serene whenever I am in your presence.

Because I am yours, and it feels that it will forever be so.

With you I can be myself, I can be free from everyone.

With you, I feel warmth, passion, and desire.

With you, I feel incredible, like I’m dancing on clouds or singing with birds in the morning.

With you, I feel unique like I am loved and cherished, and that the world of you revolves around the sun of me.

With you, among my linen sheets and buried in the silk of my comforter, I feel present.

With you, I am comfortable.

Conquering

The Lidopy Tower

The torch was lit, small traces of oil dripping down the wrappings. The torch wielder angled it forward, allowing one of the party members to magically increase its size. It became a huge source of fire, and its visibility increased tenfold. They watched as large insectoids scattered into the walls.

Fucking bugs. Runne squashed a couple of the smaller stragglers with his foot. Orange blood dripped off of his metal heel. The magic user, Lyn, smiled at the sight.

The less of them the better, she said as she patted her pants down, brushing off tinier insects. She wore a black tunic, with a gray undershirt and trousers. Her outfit was made with fireproof materials, a necessity for a Flamemonger, that made its texture look rough and haggard. She left her hat at the outpost where they’d received the quest, buried under one of the guard’s bedsheets.

Yeah, well, he wiped his boot with his padded glove and adjusted his back-holstered sword. He then fixed his hip-holstered hatchets, and walked past the torch, studying the wall through his visored helm. His armor was made of iron and painted to look like brass, a method of deception that had originated in his homeland Rew, which evolved into a tradition that was still carried even after generations. He also wore iron greaves and vambraces, with a spiked and studded left pauldron. His helmet had an engraving of Rew’s flag, which showed a wounded soldier wielding a spear and a broken shield on his back while he held his side and stood before an army of archers.

We’ve cleared the insects, so let’s keep going. Floor four has a safe zone with some supplies. If the first couple of teams hasn’t taken everything from it, we should be fine there. Floor two should be an easy clear, but I doubt there’s much left. Ikki was reading through his notebook, holding the torch near his head. He was a Stoneman, a humanoid descendent of a Gaian, which was an ancestral race of giant people whose bodies were made entirely of stones or other Earthen materials. Stonemen were the last remaining bloodline of the Gaians, the rest having been wiped out by plagues and other evolutionary disasters. Ikki wasn’t a giant, but he was the size of two men, and his body was broad and chiseled. He wore common clothes with padded leather, the only iron on his body being in the form of gauntlets, one of which was dented. He also carried a large iron hammer, with an ocean-blue handle that had a drawing of waves that wrapped around the binding. His notebook had the same color and design.

Alright then Pebble, let’s make some ground. Ikki scoffed at the snarky nickname Runne had for him, watching as the warrior passed him. Lyn just shook her head and continued forward. The three of them walked through the first floor, reaching the door after squashing a few more insects. Ikki opened the door by himself, the wood creaking as it revealed a magical lift, which carried them to the second floor. They were released before the room, which was well-lit

Reviews for The Diary Of A Lunatic

[notoriousbookhead · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Exceptional work to write such fantasies within a single anthology, with wonders enough to make you experience the divinity of poetry and short stories. Reading this book was a good experience for me and as someone who loves reading books, I highly recommend this collection to you if you like reading anthologies, especially the ones that have poems.

The theme of this book well expresses the pillars of lovesickness and loneliness in a human being's life as a living spirit, which eventually makes this book stand out amongst all the other collections of poems and short stories. Everything is well designed within the sphere of the book further, except that there is a little inappropriate use of expository writing format within the book's storyline, where it would have been appropriate if the plot had been less informal than required in the given situation.

There are many other things I liked and disliked about this book, which are listed below:

Things I liked the most:
1) Poetic effects and use of verses
2) Relatively driven real-life plots & scenes presented in the book
3) Good level of narration in short stories and dialogue-driven writing
4) Well-written for readers with an interest in multiple reading genres, alongside anthologies
5) Suitability for every age group to read, including young adults, adults, or the elderly

Things I disliked:
1) Less Expository writing effects within the short stories presented in the book when essential
2) Short stories with multiple characters, turning out to be a little difficult to grasp and understand

In short, it's an amazing read for avid readers and good to go, especially for those with a good taste for poetry and short stories.