The Game and The Glitch in The Game
The Game 
and 
The Glitch in The Game fantasy stories
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nikita
nikita I dont wanna lose hope in writing ...
Autoplay OFF   •   15 days ago
It wasn't something new. In fact, she was rather an expert at it. Well, she considered herself one. The fact that no one else knew about it was something that you and I shall discuss later.

The Game and The Glitch in The Game

It wasn't something new.

In fact, she was rather an expert at it. Well, she considered herself one. The fact that no one else knew about it was something that you and I shall discuss later.

In her defense, it wasn't something to be proud of. But she personally was. She'd been perfecting this art since she was 8-9 years of age. She didn't know what she was doing then.

She'd come to know about it only after she'd completed the process of perfecting it.

However she had had a good deal of trouble learning to embrace herself for who she was. But with time,

she'd learnt to accept herself and be proud of it. Not proud enough to tell anyone about it, but proud enough to stop thinking about suicides.

She'd even learnt how to begin, steer and end it at her will.

She liked to call it her little "game". But it was much more than merely a little game. A game has recreational purpose. This "game" had served a whole lot other purpose.

It had acted as a catalyst in past to get her tiresome chores done. It had helped to fight pangs of depression and sadness. Now that you point it out, a game does all that too.

But a game doesn't define your life and life choices. It doesn't necessarily define you. What do you mean it does that if you are a sports-person.

She didn't like to think about it like just another stupid game. It had rules. It had safety warnings. It had a recreational value. And somewhat a time limit.

But can a game be dangerous enough to lead you to serious psychological disorders? Can a game be a sign of some disturbing mental condition you have? It can? That made it a little less exciting.

Anyways, game or not, let us all call it that for her sake.

So you all might've gathered from all of this, she was no noob at it. She could easily navigate herself in the

realms of reverie. Hold on, you don't know what a reverie is? No it's not just a fashionable term for fantasy. I mean yes, the Google Translate calls it that.

But, what does it know about vocabularies? A reverie can be anything you want it to be. It can be simple as a circle to elaborate as a complex number. It was a realm

where reality could be bended to accommodate you. Well that is technically a fantasy. But you'll see how it

is different from a mere fantasy.

Presently she was at the climax and she knew that what was coming after it. I think this doesn't need much clarification here. Most of us know what a climax is and what does it signify.

Most of us have done it or still probably do it. It is one of the biggest industries. And it has been so for a long period of time. It is something

everyone (or more accurately nearly everyone) enjoys. But it is definitely no one wants to accept knowing about. No one wants to be seen doing it. No one wants to have anything to do with it.

No one wants to be associated with it in any manner whatsoever. And it's no one's fault. That's the way our society has made us to be.

We would do it behind locked doors but refrain from discussing it in a therapist's office. We'd rather die from a disease than get any professional help.

But nevertheless, we have done it or seen people do it.

She'd done it hundred times before and it had gone well. There was absolutely no reason that it would be

any different this time; except that it was.

Its mechanism is undoubtedly ironic. She'd worked the past half an hour getting to this moment of climax in a perfect manner. Also, it wasn't like it was a child's play either.

It involved years of practice. You had to stimulate just the right centers of brain and non brain parts of body. And there wasn't a fixed rule.

What may please one set of brain and body may be utterly disgusting to the other. There was no telling. It was a constant effort of hit and trial method that had to go on and on.

Even if you find a set that pleases you, you

can't stop. Just like science didn't stop, this also didn't. You could always find ways to perfect yourself.

As it is in everything else, all this effort just to reach the few pleasant moments of climax. What happens in any competition? You work hard for months, years sometimes.

You sacrifice your sleep your peace everything. You put in everything. But for what? The moment of victory lasts only for a few seconds.

What follows any high moment is a series of low post climactic moments, in which you realize that no matter how

big your victory is it will only last for a few seconds. Have you ever completed a series? Any sort of television or movie series? What happens after you finish it? You miss the series.

You want it to never end. You face happiness hangover. A huge number of celebrities have known to face that type of problem after a

particularly major project. A similar situation happens after climax. The reason is that your body can't afford

to keep you in the state of euphoria forever. It needs a down period to rest and digest.

And just after this very pleasant climax, she'd pass into the down phase. She'd be disgusted of it all. She'd be disgusted of herself.

She'd be disgusted with her cravings and the very realm she'd built apiece from her very own mind. This is also a usual behavior after climax.

Many people have reported feelings of shame and regret after a wild night.

It was like hating a piece of work you have spent months mastering. Or like spending nine months perfecting a baby inside your womb and murdering it just after it was born.

Now it may sound a psychopath. Or a

homicide for that matter. Or feticide. But she wasn't a psychopath. She was not going to murder a person. She was going to murder a fantasy. A creation.

Every creator has at some point or another seriously thought about murdering their character. She was another harmless creator who was going to do it.

Another human who occasionally jumped into an alternate reality to escape her very own. Trying to escape their reality is

something humans have been doing for a while now. It pays to have a developed brain. You can create. You can imagine.

Your may not be able to change The reality but if you are creative enough, you can change Your reality.

But beware, if you are creative but not cautious enough, you may end up destroying Every reality.

But the murder of a fantasy wasn't a crime in any country? Was it? No! It shouldn't be. It is technically a safe process.

Although, if you think deep enough, there can be no greater sin than to murder someone's fantasy. But this was different. She was not murdering someone's fantasy, she was murdering her own.

These were the feelings she used to have in her down period. But she fancied this ability. Here she was in her bed physically, but her mind not. It was going places.

You could capture her body and deprive her of everything. But you could never capture her mind. It was beyond the rules of man and physics as well.

She could be stuck in the dingy rooms but her mind was raveling in the lush gardens of heaven. She could be

stuck in a cold unwelcoming cell but in her mind she'd be enjoying a heart-warming party in her mansion. That was the beauty of fantasy. That was the beauty of reverie.

It was a heaven in all means. And although she knew it wouldn't last for long, although she knew that she'd want to destroy it all in a couple of minutes, it was all worth it.

That was the beauty of reverie. It couldn't damage your reality. Mostly. If you weren't capable enough to handle the responsibilities it came with, you could lose in the darkness forever.

Never-ending pitch darkness. Blacker than black.

However, she wasn't there yet. But as anticipated, right after 15 glorious seconds, it was all over. A beautiful

satisfying ending though. But every piece of reverie that attracted her until now, repulsed her immensely. Everything was stained with the glorious fluid of embarrassment.

Her mind and body synched as she reached the climax. She felt that every cell of her body was intoxicated in pleasure.

Every muscle strained from the effort of uphill journey as it rolled downhill. It was uncontrollable.

It was relaxing. She never wanted it to end. Yet somehow she knew that she wouldn't be able to handle it if

it went any longer.

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