Category: Existential Prose

• Flicker Before the End

  Desire is fleeting, a mirage of wealth and fame, but yearning—true yearning—burns deep within the soul. In the quiet moments between flame and ash, the narrator seeks an answer that may never come. They crave certainty, pain, proof of existence, yet the heavens remain silent. With each match struck, a truth unfolds—one that lingers in the embers long after the fire dies.

  Yearning—it runs deep within the soul. I never imagined it would become something so essential. Desires often skim the surface, shimmering illusions of wealth and fame, but true necessity lies beyond mere want. Society celebrates luxury and acclaim, yet fulfillment is often found in the quiet, unremarkable moments—far removed from the spotlight.

  

  Read moreBeneath the Ruins

  This longing weaves itself into the fabric of my existence, compelling me to reconsider the purpose behind my actions. A new perspective emerges.

  Yearning. Yearning. Yearning.

  It is not a choice but a necessity.

  I clutch a burning match, its flame flickering dangerously close to my fingers. A sharp sting jolts through me—a searing reminder of reality. I crave this certainty, the undeniable proof of existence. The pain surges through me, raw and absolute.

  They watch me, eyes gleaming with a strange mix of intrigue and fervor, as if witnessing something sacred. With each match I strike, I lose myself in the dance of the flames, captivated by their brief, beautiful existence—until they surrender to the inevitable, crumbling into fine ashes. I cherish what remains.

  Who do I become in the moment of my passing?

  They urge me to seek the divine for answers. I lift my gaze to the heavens, but the sky remains silent. Surely, He is both deaf and mute.

  If only I could decipher the unspoken words behind His absence.

  But the flames lick at my skin once more, relentless in their hunger.

  Prompt: A character finds solace in the fleeting existence of fire, seeking truth in its brief but brilliant dance. As they watch the flames consume, they grapple with the silence of the divine. What do they truly long for, and what will be left when the fire fades?

  February 9, 2025

  existentialism, inner monologue, introspection, philosophical reflection, symbolism

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• The Hollow Room

  Trapped in a room where darkness breathes and silence lingers, the narrator wrestles with an unseen presence—a force that demands acknowledgment, a name, a place in reality. But denial is a form of defiance, and in the face of looming dread, the room itself becomes something more than just a prison. It becomes a sanctuary. A place of solitude. A battle between what is known and what refuses to be named.

  What of the room? I find myself ensnared within its confines, swallowed whole by a darkness so complete it devours the edges of my vision. It is not merely a void—it breathes, festers, seeps into my skin. The air is thick with something unclean, something that does not belong. I cannot see it, yet I know it’s there.

  

  Read moreBetween Shadows and Light

  It lingers.

  A silent observer, crouched just beyond the reach of my senses. Waiting. Time stretches thin, taut as a wire, vibrating with anticipation. I curl inward, small, trembling, as if I could will myself into nothingness. But it remains. Watching. Looming.

  They say I must acknowledge it. Give it a name. Let it take shape.

  I refuse.

  This is not my fault. It never was.

  The silence presses in, heavy, relentless. But I am not alone—not entirely. The room itself breathes with me, cradles me, shelters me. It does not demand, does not whisper, does not wait.

  It is mine. My sanctuary.

  Prompt: You awaken in a pitch-black room, aware of something watching. It doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but you feel it—waiting. Do you acknowledge it, or do you fight to keep it nameless? Write about the tension of confronting the unknown, where fear and comfort intertwine.

  January 31, 2025

  fear, horror, introspection, isolation, serenity

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• Frozen Ticks and Fleeting Days

  In the quiet embrace of a familiar park, a moment of stillness disrupts the routine of life. A broken pocket watch halts time, unveiling a deep introspection on existence, fleeting moments, and the neglected beauty of the present. What begins as a simple walk transforms into a profound reckoning with self-awareness, guiding the narrator toward the timeless truth that life, though finite, is meant to be lived with purpose and presence.

  Each dawn, I embark on a familiar journey through the park—a sacred ritual that steers me toward the day ahead. No matter which path I take, I hold fast to the life I wish to lead. That is how I prefer it, and so it shall remain.

  

  Read moreBeneath Cotton Skies

  Each time I pass through, I pause before a grand, ancient oak. Its sprawling branches cast a comforting shadow over a weathered bench nestled beneath its embrace. There, I retrieve my pocket watch. Its polished surface gleams in the light as I tap it gently, listening for the reassuring tick of the needle, steady as my own heartbeat.

  In the vast canvas of existence, time stands as a rare and cherished gem—sought after, fleeting, and precious beyond measure. I am no stranger to its value. My heart does not lean toward wastefulness; I understand all too well that my time here is finite, a brief whisper in the endless flow of existence.

  This routine marked my days until one fateful morning when the watch betrayed me. The needle had stopped. Its rhythmic ticking, once steadfast, had fallen silent.

  Desperate, I shook it, wound it, and even pocketed it momentarily, hoping against hope that it might stir back to life. Yet, the watch remained still, its hands frozen in defiance.

  Adrift in thought, I sank onto the bench, its worn wood a quiet witness to my turmoil. Around me, the world continued its relentless pace, undeterred by my small, personal loss. As I sat in stillness, a realization surfaced: I had spent so long marking time that I had forgotten to truly embrace the life within it.

  “You glide past the world, blind to the presence that surrounds you,” I whispered to myself.

  In that moment, I saw my reflection in the watch: frozen, fractured, yet persistently moving through the unyielding flow of time.

  I have yet to mend that watch. It remains untouched to this day—a silent reminder of a truth I am still learning to live.

  Prompt: Write a reflective piece about an everyday object that stops functioning, leading the protagonist to reevaluate their understanding of time, existence, and their connection to the world.

  December 30, 2024

  existential awakening, introspection, nature, reflection, solitude, symbolism

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• The Laughter of the Abyss

  In a moment of inexplicable mirth, the narrator ponders the fine line between laughter and madness. As they reflect on life, death, and the fleeting nature of possession, the prose captures the paradox of joy in the face of the inevitable and the echoes of a past once abundant. This is a contemplative journey into the absurdity of existence and the bittersweet release of surrendering to it.

  Never before had I awakened to greet a day so brimming with mirth that it drew laughter unbidden from my lips. There is, I think, a kind of madness in that, should I choose to acknowledge it. Perhaps, in that inevitable moment when death beckons—pulling me ever closer to the abyss—I will find myself laughing still, even as the earth claims me in my grave.

  

  Read moreFrozen Ticks and Fleeting Days

  And what more remains for me to pursue, I wonder, when once, long ago, I held everything within my grasp?

  Prompt: Write a reflective piece that explores the paradox of joy and madness in the face of mortality. Use evocative imagery and an introspective tone to delve into themes of life, death, and the futility of possession. Let the narrator’s voice carry a sense of the absurd, balancing melancholy with a faint, haunting sense of humor.

  December 7, 2024

  existential reflection, the absurd

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