کتاب Illicit Solitude نوشته سرکار خانم آرام دخت اسماعیلیان را به صورت قانونی از سایت متخصصان خریداری کنید.
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ulled back the ambushed shadow so that his diamond, wrapped in the rainbow, could wake up… REMEMBER… The shadow started following her while whispering.
He knew he had to keep his distance for the light to bloom. This was the only way that twilight could happen. When they both had reached self-acceptance and were ready to compromise.
Twilight… It seemed like their only purpose… It was brutal… treacherous… deadly, and fatal… the love of shadow and light… it was blood and ink… sound and echo… life and death… and the only thing it wasn’t was peace.
They were on fire, the battlefield and the battalion.
She dragged her bare feet on the sand and surrendered her feeble body to the moonlight. It was a risky move. She didn’t even know her source. The shadow was following, lurking in the dens of leaf and capturing light’s dreams of day and night… like a caged animal on fire…
She, the light, held her breath and set foot in the daylight. It was a bizarre sensation… morning’s breath in her hair… in the fall’s adrenaline-charged atmosphere… the pallid sun was incarcerating her, scratching her arms, drawing the blood in her vain to the black holes in her heart.
Emptiness… emptiness… nihility…
With the help of your love, I will imprison you in hell.
The shadow was in pain; he couldn’t touch the light.
First, for if he touched her, one of them would have to sacrifice themself, and this hadn’t been taught to them yet. And the second was because of the sour memory of their last romance before the resurrection of light. That resulted in light’s existence coming to a halt.
Fear of losing her wasn’t stronger than his love for her. Still, it was powerful enough to build an impenetrable, inscrutable, transparent wall between them from which only sound could pass through… sound… sound… sound… their only means of communication…
The light, in spite of her resurrection after their last encounter, still had her memories in her subconscious mind. The memories, each were a firearm to birch her soul in a dungeon located in appalling nihility… stealing her dreams, mutilating them briskly.
One night, the light had a dream while the shadow was embracing her. The ocean of light was on the rise and charging at a chasm. There stood the grazing sheep, doused in darkness, obedient to the jet-black wolves. Rays of light struck and, after scratching their skin and reaching the mussels, decayed their bones. Now, the sheep had turned into phoenixes, risen from their ashes.
It was an epic dream, but at what cost? She had to give her all for the sheep that couldn’t tell the difference between sheep and wolf. It was a satire…
It was the vengeance for deviating from the way the source had planned. The shadow and the light were both sentenced to twilight… light and dark… wound and razor… there was no point in resisting… as if you could prove to the self-centered that this was vengeance… they were having fun playing this game… Our karma… there was no way out…
You can’t make the two halves of the same matter understand that no matter how much they insist on their difference, they are the same, and there is no way to resign.
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