Amidst the haze of cigarette smoke and whiskey fumes, I found you. Or maybe, I lost you, like finding and losing oneself in a cracked mirror. We were fragments, shards of shattered glass in a dingy bar, reflecting the emptiness that clung to us like a second skin.

Love, they called it. A word as hollow as the echo in an abandoned alley. You, with your eyes like the bottom of an empty bottle, stared into the abyss of my soul, and I saw nothing.

Nothing but the shadow of what could have been, what should have been. What never was.We danced, didn't we? In the ruins of our dreams, we danced to the tune of despair.

Our steps were clumsy, awkward, like lovers who had forgotten the rhythm of life. Each touch was a reminder of the void that lay between us, a chasm too wide to bridge, yet too narrow to ignore.

Your laughter, once a melody, now a dirge. It echoed in the hollow chambers of my heart, a mocking reminder of joy's fleeting nature. We were fools, weren't we? Chasing illusions, grasping at wisps of smoke, believing in a love that was never truly there.

I remember your words, like knives dipped in honey, cutting deep while sweetening the pain. Promises whispered in the dark, dissolving with the dawn. We were artists of deception, painting our lives in shades of grey, masking the black hole at the center of our existence.

Love. A four-letter word that promised eternity, yet delivered emptiness. It was the silence between our conversations, the coldness in our embrace. It was the ghost that haunted us, the specter of what we could never be.

And now, in this desolate landscape of broken dreams and shattered hopes, I stand alone. The emptiness, my only companion. It whispers to me, in the language of the lost, telling tales of love and longing, of despair and redemption.

**Title: The Hollow Echo of Us**

**Genre:** Literary Fiction

**Age Range:** 18+

**Word Count:** 560

**Author:** Nickolai Brennan aka Klaus Dreadful

---

**Why Your Project is a Good Fit:**

"The Hollow Echo of Us" delves deep into the complexities of human relationships, making it a compelling read for those who appreciate introspective and emotionally charged narratives. It offers a poignant exploration of love, loss, and the human condition, resonating with readers who seek depth and authenticity in literature.

**The Hook:**

In a dingy bar filled with cigarette smoke and whiskey fumes, two fragmented souls dance to the tune of despair, revealing the haunting emptiness of a love that never truly existed.

**Synopsis:**

Amidst the haze of a smoke-filled bar, two lovers confront the desolate reality of their relationship. They navigate through the ruins of their dreams, clumsily dancing to a melody of despair and deception. As they reflect on their journey, the hollow promises and fleeting joys of their love become painfully clear. The narrative captures the haunting emptiness and inevitable solitude that follows the dissolution of a connection once thought eternal. In the end, one stands alone, accompanied only by the whispers of lost love and the shadows of what could have been.

**Target Audience:**

This story is ideal for adults who enjoy literary fiction with a focus on emotional depth, psychological complexity, and the exploration of human relationships. Fans of authors like Haruki Murakami, Raymond Carver, and Jhumpa Lahiri will find this narrative particularly engaging.

**Bio:**

I am just a regular guy who shares his experiences through life and records them into stories.

**Platform:**

- Twitter: https://x.com/KlausDreadful

**Education:**

3+ years of University

**Experience:**

Just Writing For The Passion, But Always Wanting To Write More and Professionally

**Personality / Writing Style:**

Known for a reflective and introspective style, I write with a lyrical yet grounded voice, capturing the nuanced emotions and inner lives of characters. Their storytelling is marked by a deep empathy and a keen observational eye.

**Likes/Hobbies:**

When not writing, Nickolai Brennan enjoys reading contemporary fiction, exploring nature trails, practicing yoga, and discovering new music. A lover of coffee and conversations, they often find inspiration in the everyday moments of life.

**Hometown:**

Alma Michigan

**Age (optional):**

33

Flowers were blooming everywhere. She wondered what it all meant. She was with a friend at the neighboring park, and just sitting there in the grass enjoying nature. There were flowers blooming everywhere. There was a mystical essence of Romance that was evident in the air.

Selena Robinson was someone who wasn't very adept at describing her emotions. She was so taken aback by the beauty. She had not visited the countryside for a long time. Spring had a different connotation back in the city.

Her friend Zoe Saldana noticed her quizzical look and decided to ask her if something was wrong. Selena replied, "Yes, the countryside is so beautiful, it is very different from what spring looks like back in the city."

Zoe hadn't noticed because she lived in the country all her life. She didn't ever think someone would ever say that about the rural landscapes.

Selena realized this and quipped " People who live in the countryside don't know what they have. All of this beauty. Just look around you. Isn't it all so beautiful? Back in the city, there weren't as many trees. Or Flowers. What's worse is - where I lived, it was so hot, you could fry pancakes on the road, the temperatures there soared."

Zoe just smiled at her friend. She didn't realize that her rural hometown was indeed beautiful. It was just that everyone there who was the same age as she was, wanted to go to the city to get jobs and possibly live there.

"Sure Selena, Nature is beautiful but Money is a thing you know, this place is beautiful but Nature doesn't put food on the table! "

"Also the guys here seem narrow-minded. I wish I could find a nice guy to date that is a city-dweller and acts like one!" Zoe said again.

Selena looked her straight in the eye and said "Oh, you were talking about love! Yes, the guys in the rural countryside are a little old-fashioned and ruddy. They would look better if they groomed as well!"

Selena and Zoe continued talking. They talked more and more about the weather, and about everything that made their brains tick like any two close friends were likely to do when they were lazing around in the park on a chill Sunday morning.

Time seemed to fly, and Selena looked at the time on her phone. "Zoe, do you realize we have been here more than an hour? Time sure flies by when you are having fun!"

They both got off the grass and dusted themselves off. Then they started to take a long walk home. They continued talking. The topic of Love came up, and they started to talk about it.

"Selena, have you ever been in Love?" Zoe asked her suddenly.

"Yes long ago, with a cute guy that lived in the city," Selena replied.

"Was it unrequited Love, or did anything materialize? I know some introverts who like to love people from a distance" Zoe said again.

"Yes, funny enough to me at least, that's the best sort of Love story. But do you know that I did kiss a guy once, No, it wasn't love, but it sure felt good" Selena said again.

"You did," Zoe asked inching with curiosity. "What was it like?" She asked again.

"It felt like Spring!" she exclaimed.

"Right. Spring! Selena, remember that Spring is a season, so there couldn't possibly be a connection. Can you elaborate on how kissing can feel like Spring, even though for some strange reason that seems like an interesting concept?" Zoe asked looking confused.

"Umm, Zoe remember what I said about the beauty of the countryside? Well, the effects of Spring aren't noticed by the people who live here because they see it every day! But did you know, for someone who hasn't seen or experienced this sort of thing before, Spring is indeed beautiful and romantic too, and can be used as a metaphor for Romance?"

To which Zoe replied by saying "You might be right there Selena. Spring can be an intensely romantic time of the year... should you choose to look at it like that. Trees get their leaves during this time of the year as you said, and flowers are in full bloom. But you didn't answer my question- why did your love affair feel like spring?"

"Spring is usually a time of new beginnings. Did you know that there are specifically some species of flowers that signify new beginnings like Roses and Daffodils? Speaking of which, Lavenders are my favorite type of flower." she said.

"I like Lavenders because they are so purple. Apart from just being my favourite color, they are also a symbol of royalty, refinement, luxury, and elegance! But I think I did not answer your question!"

"They're not my favorite, but once that same guy I was describing gave me a white rose. Did you know that white roses symbolize innocence, purity, reverence, and new beginnings? When we kissed I felt sparks. I felt butterflies.

He wasn't the same as other guys. I don't believe in the potency of flower petals or anything, but yes I felt like I was positively 'glowing' the day he gave me that white rose." She realized that she was talking in almost a whole long sentence without breathing. She gasped.

Selena Robinson was your typical INFJ who loved talking for ages on seemingly unheard-of topics. But Zoe was extremely interested today being an INFP, because this one time Selena linked her rather long speech to a juicy and rather interesting topic like 'Kissing'

"He kissed you and then gave you a white rose? Funny, you never mentioned it before! What was the guy's name?" Zoe asked suddenly, with a hint of nervous excitement in her voice.

The guy's name was "Ivan. Ivan Dubinsky" Selena replied blushing, the pink freckles clearly showing, like the flowers of springtime.

"Oh, interesting. sure sounds like he was East-European!" Zoe replied as if she was certain.

"Yes. A very different sort of guy! An introvert like the two of us. And he wore the most wonderful cologne. It was so nice every time he sat next to me. I felt so drawn to him because of it!" Selena replied.

Selena and Zoe were neighbors who lived very close to each other. When Selena reached her apartment building after their long walk home from the park, and equally long conversation, she turned the key and opened the door of her apartment.

Selena's apartment was a quaint-but-nice-looking place. Small in size, but the environment was energetic for some reason. Selena was sometimes, a little ball of energy. It could also be because the furniture was arranged according to the principles of Feng Shui.

According to the principles of Feng Shui, energy moved in a circle, and so everything in her living room was arranged in a circle. Also the place was tidy, since Selena took the effort to clean up the place every once in a while.

Suddenly her thoughts went back to her conversation with her friend in the park. She thought about the past, about Ivan, and how juicy his lips were to kiss. Thinking about it sent a wave of tingles up her spine and she felt like she needed to have someone, just anyone in her life.

But now She wondered about her thoughts! Was she being controlled? By someone? By Something? Selena had not felt this way in years. Perhaps it was the effects of Spring! She saw it too. Spring was a time of renewal in nature, and the flowers in nature made one feel all the more nostalgic.

She did not have anything else to do, so she decided to google 'the myths associated with spring' on her phone! She happened to be sitting on her bed in her bedroom. She was curious, because she could not get the thoughts of Ivan and his kissing off her mind!

When she googled "Myths associated with spring" she found a slew of informative articles. She decided to click on a random link. The article started off with "Good bye Winter!" As she continued to read the rather long and informative blog article she found there was a myth about "People being horniest in spring".

She continued reading it. The article mentioned that " It could have been the blossoming flowers, or the buzzing bees, but something about the weather all around made people think that Spring was indeed the horniest time of the year. This however is probably a myth," the article went on to say.

But she couldn't stop thinking about Ivan. She wondered if Zoe had reached home. She wanted to ask her friend about whether she too was having any obsessive thoughts about their conversation. She sent her a random message on WhatsApp.

She put the book down and lay back on the bed with her head on the pillow for a while. She couldn't help but notice that there was a mirror opposite her bed. She wondered if calling Zoe was a good idea, it was nearing 9 p.m.

Zoe usually started her day shift early on Mondays so she was probably already asleep by now. she wondered if sending her a text message was a good idea. She decided to try.

But she felt the satin sheets were making her a bit too comfortable. She wanted more of the feeling. Since it wasn't Summer, Selena did not turn on the air-conditioning. Today she wanted to try turning it on, because it seemed like a good day to be pampered, to self-pamper and enjoy the few luxuries for what they were.

Selena was not rich but she wanted the environment at home to be conducive to a good mood. Selena spent a little more on unusual-but-quirky things like this. Satin Sheets, huge pillows and air conditioning. She wanted her rest-times to mean something.

She turned on the Air conditioning, and instantly the room turned cooler.

When she lie in the bed, she felt like the room was suddenly very cozy! Too cozy for words! She decided to lie in her bed, and she felt the cool air on her skin. She let down her hair and felt her body sink into the bed.

She somehow wished she had male company. She thought about Ivan. But as a good Christian girl she knew her thoughts were going in a strange direction that might make concentrating at work a task that was harder than usual.

Zoe just wasn't answering her WhatsApp messages, perhaps she had put her phone on silent. Selena fell asleep. She fell asleep quickly. The environment was too cozy for words.

The world is on fire.

I look outward from my couch.

The world has been watching me burn too.

Overworked, under-appreciated.

Diagnosed with the same issue.

How do we solve it?

No idea.

First,

I'll sit here, and write this poem.

Upon Freshly Fallen Snow

July 27, 2024

The snow fell again

Just enough to be noticed

Not enough to accumulate

The previous four inches claimed that right

The neophytes would wait their turn

The white birch trees obscured views

Of passersby

Of the horse drawn carriages

Of the visible breath of the groom

Of the visible breath of the bride

He wore white

Not as a camouflage

But to blend in with the ambiance

Of this brisk Saturday morn

Where hearing would trump sight

The groom was, thus, certain

Of the bride’s arrival

From her horse’s heavy breathing

From the crush of the wheels on the snow

From the beating of his heart

The bride’s carriage pulled abreast to him

He lowered his betrothed to terra firma

He waited a moment to take her beauty in

She waited a moment to give him his moment

The two were now ready

Steadily they walked upon the fresh snow

His attire was adaptive

Both in appearance and spirit

Her gown was not designed for the outdoors

But her will was

The pastor did not speak

The language of the couple

But he did convey

What was important to convey

So the couple understood nonetheless

One question asked of him

One answer spoken confidently

One question asked of her

One answer mirroring the first

Two hearts become one

The couple walked away to her carriage

The pastor took hold of his

The two ventured together

As one for all eternity

The pastor just waved as they departed

All of the event occurring in silence

Barely audible even if straining to listen

The spirit of the spectacle carried the day

Past a velleity, akin to a volition

The quietude defined the day

This is a small excerpt from the tiny novella entitled 'A Writer's Love Story'...

Excerpt 1

There was a reason why Stella felt very drawn to this particular book. The book's cover design was simple and gave nothing away. Yet the story was different- special. Stella flipped page after page with excitement since she liked it so much. The book was a typical rich people's romance novel, but there was something very intriguing about the way it was narrated that kept her glued to the story.

The book was not true to its name. On the other hand, it was making her think spiritually about life through the trysts and triumphs of the star-crossed protagonist Giselle Kindchen who finds herself lost in Swanky Monte Carlo and seeking something meaningful.

Stella was so taken by the book's heroine Giselle and her lonesome adventures when her eyes fell on the wall clock above her. She had been reading the book for more than a few hours and her hands had started to ache.

She put the book down for a moment and looked closely at a newly formed pink zit on her nose in the mirror. She also noticed her blue eyes, full face, and beautiful blonde hair. Stella wondered what it would be like to have Giselle's guts.

Excerpt 2

Stella was so busy in her little world and the notes she was making for her blog article that she hardly noticed a handsome hazel green-eyed man who had sat down at a table just next to hers. He seemed like a nice man.

Whenever she concentrated on her writing she found herself very deep in thought. She usually was so lost in thought while writing at her favourite cafe, that she wasn't aware of other people and what they were doing around her.

Stella continued to make her notes as if nothing had happened because she did not notice the man sitting near her. When she finally looked up she noticed him again. Something made her wonder if he too was a writer like she was. She keenly observed him from afar and felt that she had never seen a more dashing, handsome man.

She wondered if he too was a writer. She wondered if he too thought about the world the way she did. There was an air about him that made her wonder if he was someone who seemed wise and almost philosophical.

Title - A Writer's Love Story

Genre - Contemporary Romance

Age Range - 18-30

Word Count -3997 words

Author Name - Sarah D

Why Your Project Is A Good Fit - Great Story With A Dose Of Romance And A Moral At The End- The Story teaches you something, if you read about how the character develops as the story progresses

The hook - Opposites attract and two intelligent scribes in a cafe have a steamy romantic encounter. Her questions about life are answered by their intimate conversation, which she likens to a book she is reading. She discovers that Heaven is a place on Earth.

Synopsis -

A Writer's Love Story is all about the antics of a beautiful young female writer who walks into her favourite cafe one day and meets an attractive person. As the story unfolds the character of the shy but intelligent woman is revealed. At first, she is shown as undecided, introverted and confused in the large cafe, trying so desperately to get his attention which is cute in a strange way.

She slowly gleans from afar, that the handsome man whose attention she is trying to attract is also a writer and tries to initiate a conversation with him. When they meet sparks fly, and they have a chance romantic encounter later.

The Story concludes with her finding love with him much like the protagonist of her current favourite book entitled 'The Secret Of Monte Carlo' and realizes from her conversation with him that 'Heaven is a place on Earth' and that everyone is a writer, who writing a different story of their lives based on their own choices and experiences.

Target Audience - Mostly Young Female Adults

Your Bio -Sarah Desouza lives in the sun-soaked shores of Goa, India, where she crafts relatable short stories on her Medium blog. With a passion for storytelling, Sarah aims for her narratives to leave a lasting impression, imparting valuable lessons to her readers. Frequently infused with philosophical themes and moral reflections, her tales delve into the depths of human experience. Sarah’s writing transcends abstract concepts, rendering them palpable, particularly in explorations of love and the divine. Among her literary endeavours is the book ‘His Lingering Perfume,’ available on Amazon. For Sarah, writing is not just a hobby but a means of self-expression.

Platform - Medium, Wattpad, Neobook

Education- University

Experience - She loves writing short stories on her Medium Blog https://medium.com/@sarahbiblion and has also self-published a book entitled 'His Lingering Perfume' Sarah loves writing fiction, but she also is a blog content writer who does freelance work.

Personality / Writing Style - Writes about love, but my stories usually have highly relatable female protagonists who are not very loud and in your face, but someone the audience can relate to and learn a thing or two from. My stories are high on romance but have something earthy that will draw you to them on an emotional level.

Likes/Hobbies - Reading, Writing Poetry, Singing

Hometown - Goa, a sunny beach island in India

Age - 25

Time, like a current

Is pulling me forward

Towards the inevitable end

I wait and I watch

Try to study the tide

Never knowing with what I contend

Even though I get lost

Below the fathomless depths

It will not break me, though I may bend

One day I will wake

On the glittering shore

But for now, through these waters I wend

Like a seed, love is a noun.

Love is a seed planted within us all.

Like a seed, love can lay dormant, oppressed by layers of darkness. Trapped within infertile soil. A pulsating, pushing presence, frustrated!

Love must become a verb. Germinating, reaching, rooting. It must be nurtured, watered, fed. From seedling to plant, growing! Love is a verb.

Like a plant it relies on its environment, its community to grow.

Like bees to the flowers, love entices, love enthralls, love is beauty and nourishment. Scented and sweet, entrapping. Freeing like pollen on the wind. Love blooms in many varieties.

Its roots pervade our existence. Like a tree it is our breath. Like mycelium, it is our foundation.

It must be tended!

Seven writers bring the metal and mettle to number 57, stretching their fingers across time and space, across verse and touch, into our cores, and the air around the rest. Hot coffee, cold reads, with eight pieces of undeniable beauty to command our attention, and send us away floating.

Here's the link to 57:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP_J3j0uL5I

And here are the pieces featured.

https://www.theprose.com/post/824709/the-stone-cutter https://www.theprose.com/post/824539/the-blank https://www.theprose.com/post/823998/heroes

https://www.theprose.com/post/823917/the-plover https://www.theprose.com/post/823875/ode-to-a-prizefighter https://www.theprose.com/post/823721/swings-both-ways

https://www.theprose.com/post/823715/uncompromising https://www.theprose.com/post/823328/blue-bird

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

The global news today is more of the same:

People that hate and accuse,

Nations with wars and coups,

Apathy and gridlock that refuse

To face the climate crisis blues.

The world is on fire,

And I’m by my modem

Just writing this poem.

Go ahead, accuse me of avoiding the flames,

But hate is something I can’t mitigate,

Peace talks I cannot negotiate,

Funding I cannot appropriate

And hearts I cannot ameliorate

To make the climate crisis abate.

Yes, the world is on fire,

And I’m still by my modem

Just writing this poem.

But maybe my writing has beneficial gains,

I CAN post ideas for all to observe

Ways to peace, ways to serve.

My Congressman I can disturb

By putting nerve into my verbs.

And writing my psyche preserves.

So, while the world is on fire,

I remain by my modem

Just writing this poem.