Lurid Paradise -VegasPete-

8 -Name of city

Disclamer: This was only a fiction storyline for VegasPete. None of the story were based on the real series. Their personality was quiet the same as in the real novel but I toned down it a bit to make it easy for me. I tried to write a new genre for our VP couple. This was actually my first book so I'm not sure what kind of reaction will you guys gave me later. Okay, so go on and read this story.
Please leave some comment 🍀

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I woke up after taking the long nap. Strange that my body felt nothing. The dizziness that on my head was already gone.

My neck. I thought that it's gonna leave scars and bruise after that 'guy' chocked me by using his nails but it just looked like the same as before. I felt completely nothing. It was like waking up in the morning during the holiday.

At the edge of the bed I saw the folded shirts. White long sleeve shirt with black pant. Then I ran my eyes at the corner and saw a bowl of porridge and a glass of milk.

I did notice that the atmosphere already changed. It's not that cold but also not that hot. Maybe it's already in the noon time. I didn't have my cellphone with me.

And the clock that was hanging inside of this room moving in backwards. Even using a weird symbolic number on it. And the door frame was carved in some certain shape. How funny that it was actually locked on the outside.

But if I could run away I might get lost in the woods. I don't even know where I am. From the small gap between the stone buildings. I only see trees and a small route that heading towards the north way.

Sometimes I saw the dark smoke came out of nowhere and then turned into a human form. What kind of world I'm currently living in? Am I gonna stucked for the rest of my life? But if I stayed here, I would get harm. I should really find a way out.

And I forgot to mention about the books. That were written in a different language. Some of them was based on human language. I mean like english, we wrote it with using all of the alphabet. ABC.

But then, it was only one thick black book with the clip from the side of it that really caught my attention. The unique hand-writing filled only half from the inside of the book. I didn't understand this kind of weird language. It written using a specific symbol in ancient language.

The last two pages filled with the hand-drawing and painting. But it's only half of it. The way they drew this were basically based on the emotion. Sad, anger, jealousy, ignorances, selfishness, love, hatred. It's looked painful.

But they didn't finish it. It's liked they had been waiting to seek for the last emotion that could inspire them. Putting all the feeling into words can sometimes be difficult, but just because you can't always explain it in concrete terms does not mean it's not real or important.

I guess I better start learning about all of this 'special language' for the bright future. Who know that maybe I could do better in learning a new language, since I was trapped in here and do nothing?

Learning art in college was not that easy. Art is the representations of things from the real life. We could express and show emotions. With art I could truly be myself and help me kept going. Showed the emotion, the way that I thought about something, how did I felt, every single detail was based on the expression.

Deliberately creating a mood in the immediate surroundings that could be use to create the life that I want even in a very tangible way. Art was also a tool as a psychological healing, a symbol in spiritual rituals, an impetus for social change, an expression of inquiry, a form of entertainment and a simple celebration of beauty. That's what do we called art.