Solomon W.

Writer of the dark, all deemed morbid and obscure.

June 22, 2025.
August 22, 2025.
October 22, 2025.
December 22, 2025.
April 22 2026.

June 22, 2025.I met a stranger. I wouldn't use the verb "met". Scratch that first sentence.I was held hostage by an invasive blonde species.The Clarissulugus Cuniculus. Common name: Clarissa, or Claire.After my shift, I acquired my new vinyl, Tough Love, by Jessie Ware. A 2014 treasure mine. I consider "Say You Love Me" as my favorite track from the album. The melody, composition, and emotions entangled in each lyric captured me wholly. The album sounds excellent through my earphones, but I am compelled to hear the entire tracklist envelop my flat. On the way home, I was already imagining how my small space would be completely transformed by her voice. Undergo metamorphosis and transport me to Jessie Ware's world where she wrote such a masterpiece.Then I was held hostage. My dream was unfortunately delayed by a Clarissulugus Cuniculus.The only reason I gave her my time was that she asked about my vinyl. I take pride in my collection of preserved music, so without a doubt, I wish she could create her own.Then the invasive species began to ask about my life. I don't like talking about my life. I don't like talking. End of discussion. But no matter how many periods I placed in my responses, each signal of withdrawal was only met with a semicolon; from her. I wish nothing more than to sit on my couch and enjoy my new purchase. But I chose to act as her very own compass and lead her to the record store I got my vinyl from, which was also the very establishment I worked at. I hoped that guiding her was the most efficient choice; if I don't, she will follow me until I give in. Or she will get lost, trip over a rock, and blame me for not becoming a good Samaritan to a new resident in Boston. If I do, she will ask more questions, but at the same time, leave me be once we arrive.And if I'm lucky, that would be our first and last encounter.She asked what I do for work, my hobbies, and the restaurants where I grab lunch. So many questions, yet she never bothered to ask the most basic, simplest question known to human interaction: "What's your name?" I had to verbally remind her. I wonder how fast her mind works for her to overlook the fundamentals of conversing with a stranger. Must be running faster than an F1 Ferrari. The horsepower must be astonishing.. and I wish not to know. One more conversation with her might drain my energy completely.At the same time, I wonder how a person could be so.. enthusiastic. How she talked mimicked a newborn in its first life. A flurry of words flew out of her rose-colored lips like a second wasted would cost her a lifetime of regret. The scarf wrapped around her neck wasn't too successful in hiding her excitement as she turned her head in different directions, digesting the streets of Boston, which I call home. Blonde strands danced on her shoulders, as if her restless mouth wasn't enough to translate her emotions into physical cues. Her eyes, under the sun, shone like newly-polished diamonds that were ready to be admired by the wealthy.I wonder how a human being could look so innocent and excited to begin a new journey in unfamiliar territory. And I am one of the unfortunate, who happened to be part of the minority, which I call the first victims. I wish we never cross paths again, and I will not have to endure a chatterbox like her again.Though I, with hesitation, am intruiged by this Clarrisulugus Cuniculus. If we do meet again, I hope I have enough energy to sustain my sanity.

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