All posts by GalaxyGladious

Who am I? Who aren't I, no one knows


For those into legends, have fun finding all the symbolism in this fiction based on legends.

Firdavis Xireaili 10D


The sky split as the heavens roared, lightning crashed down upon the earth as the gentle ran accompanied it. The rain gathered upon the summit flowed down through the crevices and into the river whilst the divine rods of lightning set lone trees ablaze. In the middle of all the chaos stood a small hut, by no means large nor elegant, just an ordinary, mud brick hut covered by a straw roof no larger than a few square meters.

A table and two bumps on either side occupied the interior of the room. Two men sat on either side, both focusing their attention on the small board placed upon the wooden table. A torch dimly lit the room, just enough to allow both men to visualize the board.

One man was larger than the other, blonde hair with a beard and all covered from head to shoulder with a decorated set of iron armor which lustrously shone even under the foul sky. A long-sword laid on his thighs with its scabbard missing. Not a dent nor chip was present on the blade, making it seem as it if was newly forged, but the two knew all too well that it had shed more blood than any other blade.

The other man was slightly shorter and younger, donning a blood red cape and tunic with his helmet resting at his side, no weapon present on his figure. In one hand he held a small piece of carved wood with a round white head, playing with it as he concentrated on the board.

“Quite the predicament you’re in Arthur, perhaps your days are coming to an end.” He chuckled to himself with a smirk as he placed the wooden piece down onto the board with a thud.

“Check.” He called with confidence.

The man called Arthur gave no response as he moved the largest black piece on the board forward, surprising the other man.

“Really? The king? There was plenty to sacrifice there, was there not? Why choose the weak?” He let out a mocking laugh.

“Perhaps weak, but also the strongest.” Arthur let out with no change to his expression.

“Old age really is getting to you,” He ridiculed as he moved another piece forward without hesitation, “it is time you give up.”

Arthur only smiled.

“Mordred, what is hope?” He asked.

“Hope, you say? Hope is only for those too weak to achieve their goals themselves. They delude themselves into thinking that possibilities still exist whilst there are none. Wishful thinking will only ever be wishful thinking.” He answered after some thought.

The smile on Arthur’s face didn’t budge whilst he looked Mordred in the eyes, “Wrong.” He said with a sigh.

“Hmm? Then what do you say, oh former king?”

“Hope itself is a power, a power that drives us humans to achieve what we thought we could not, it gives us power to be who we want to be. Hope is for those with a vision, as those without goals cannot Hope for anything. If one has the courage to hope for something, then they possess the power and potential to claim it. Hope also comes with responsibility, as greater the fire, the greater the destruction if not controlled. If the torch of courage was to be extinguished, then the lamp of Hope would no longer burn.”

Mordred squinted his eyes and glared at Arthur, “What are you getting at?”.

“Hope is no delusion Mordred, it gives us strength you cannot even imagine.” Arthur moved his knight further onto the board before continuing, “The pawn, the weakest piece on the board, has the potential to become a menace rivaling the queen, do you know why that is, Mordred? It is because of Hope. Men fight whilst knowing its kill or be killed in this broken world because they believe that they will achieve glory and honor, to survive- they hope for these things, and with it they find strength within themselves to turn the delusions into reality. It is hope that drives this world forward, Mordred.”

“And what does this mean for me, Arthur?” Mordred asked.

The smile plastered on Arthur’s face slowly turned into a grin.

“No matter the situation one is in, there is always a way to turn it around… through hope.” He moved his king forward again whilst speaking.

Mordred gritted his teeth in impatience as he couldn’t understand what Arthur was attempting to do. The state of the board was completely in his favour, with him retaining most of his pieces whilst Arthur only had a single knight, a bishop, a queen and his king left.  In fact, Arthur’s king was only getting closer to his own king.

The game known as chaturanga (note this is the original version/name of chess) was only introduced in the region a few years ago, and few knew how to truly play. Even Mordred himself didn’t know what Arthur had up his sleeves. He decided to end it as fast as he could and moved his bishop to pressure Arthur’s few remaining pieces.

Arthur broke the silence once again after moving his King piece another block further.

“Do you know why the pawn can only become a queen, yet not a king? It is because no matter what they do, they will not break the shackles of a servant as long as they follow the rules, the norm.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Doesn’t it sound like you?”


Mordred was left speechless by the claim. His mouth agape but no words came out. As much as he wished to deny it, he couldn’t. Seeing this, Arthur continued.

“An unimportant pawn, slowly making his way up the hierarchy through effort… and the power of hope. By taking all opportunities presented to you, you have taken the throne and the seat of the king, but what now?”

Mordred didn’t utter a word.

“You have gained the most powerful, yet weak position. You have become the sole ruler who your servants look up to, yet you are now the most vulnerable. If you fall, so will everything you’ve achieved, do you understand?”.

“It doesn’t matter, the throne is mine and you only have a few feeble men at your disposal, you have lost Arthur.” Mordred moved his queen for the first time up the board and ‘ate’ the bishop. Almost immediately, Arthur moved his King forward again, leaving only a single space between the two kings.

“No matter how bleak the situation may look, I will continue. The position of King not only holds all the power, but also all the hope from his servants and those who believe in him. It is our duty to bear it, and never let the flames die. Those who ignore this will never be the king he wishes to be.”

Mordred moved to take down the final knight Arthur possessed, leaving only the unmoved queen piece and king with Arthur.

In fact, there was no feasible way for Arthur to turn the match around, but the light in his eyes did not die, but instead burned brighter as if conveying a message.

“Do you remember when I said that hope can make anything possible? For that, I will not abandon the hope of those who believe in, and I will carry both the strength and burden of their hope with me until my very last breath!”

With this, Arthur moved his king forward once more.

Now, the two kings stared at each other, both in position to ‘eat’ each other, and both vulnerable, but Mordred did not make the move – no, he couldn’t, he was in too much of a shock to make a move.

“No… are you suicidal? You have just signed your own death sentence, what was the point? I can simply take your king and it would be my win, did you forget what you just said!?” Mordred exclaimed.

Arthur let out a dry laugh, “My fate doesn’t lie beneath the board, and only I will determine it.” His gaze sharpened as if it were meant to pierce through Mordred. “I am the master of my fate.”

Arthur held the sword on his lap with his right hand and silently stood up, heading for the exit, surprising Mordred.

“Let us continue this match another time.” He said with his gaze still on Mordred.

“Where?” Mordred asked even whilst knowing the answer.

“Camlann… Yes, let us conclude this then.”

Mordred silently closed his eyes and looked out the window to the chaos. Only when Arthur reached for the door did he talk again.

“Arthur, why did you move your king in the end and not your queen, and also, what is hope without courage?”

Arthur pondered for a second before answering with a smile.

“How can a King expect his subordinates to follow if he does not lead? And to answer your second question…” He opened the wooden door only to be greeted by a lightning strike which landed a few dozen meters away.

“Without courage, there is no hope.”

He closed the door behind him as he left.

“Goodbye, nephew.”


Oh, the elegant tears fell,
As the morning sun peaked from the horizon,
Shining its light from the edge of hell,
To the lands and seas of Poseidon.

Oh, the elegant tears fell,
As her screams returned with no avail,
words resounded like a ringing bell,
Forever she was bound to fail.

Oh, the elegant tears fell,
Forever she was trapped in a cage,
With no man to trust and no woman tell,
Eternally stuck on the same stage.

Oh the elegant tears fell,
Forever she continued to hum,
Endless stories the voice could tell,
But of course she knew, no help would come.

Firdavis Xireaili 10D

(yeah I’m into dark things)

The Dark Side

The familiar suffocating buzz you listen to day and night.

Provoking fights,
stealing rights,
creating unneeded sights,
whispering in your ear that you are at unreachable heights.

All lies,
deliberately told to earn them the profit,
with no man, no soul,
attempting to even stop it.

Telling you relentless,
no matter if you are penniless,
to point your spears at those who are homeless,
Those who experienced the shadow of humanity,
Those who lost their former lives and left friendless.

You fail to notice,
The vicious thorns that entangle your heart each time their empty, lifeless words enter your ear.
Slowly corroding your mind and soul, until you are no more than a disposable puppet,
Whose only worth is to preach the words of the true culprit .

The exaggerated headlines,
Claiming the biggest threat is a small group capable of bringing insignificant terror,
But not mentioning the cruel dictator with his arsenals of war is their crucial error.

You convince yourself that you control your own hands and knee,
just as a bird trapped in a birdcage thinks it is free.

You’ve been taught in your youth that they speak only the truth,
that they have all the knowledge in the world in their grasp.
They fool you into believing they take no sides,
but hiding under the wall of text are their secret agendas.

they do whatever is necessary to earn them the sums,
Diverting attention from the cries of the slums,
Whilst exaggerating the war on violence and guns.

People are blinded by what is presented to them,
Trusting every word without a doubt,
Not even questioning the bull they spout.

They, who have no real power strike not with weapons, but with words,
As ‘It is not power that corrupts but fear.’

I wish to see a day and age where humanity stand side-by-side,
Not in conflict but United.
But in an era where THEY dominate,
Such dreams can only be dreams.

We are surrounded by darkness,
no light in sight and nothing bright to guide us through the eternal night.

But with us all standing together with conflict left far behind,
just maybe, we will live to once again witness the rise of a new ever-lasting dawn.


Firdavis Xireaili 9H

Tick Tock

Tick Tock
The normally crowded streets of London were now almost deserted, with the only remnants being those who appreciated the silence and simply enjoyed bathing in the moon’s beauty. Countless droplets of water poured down from the cloudy sky above, creating an ethereal rhythm as they collided with the cold concrete below. Such divine melody, fit to be played in the wake of God.
Tick Tock
But to me, these droplets represented the tears of God, neither from pity nor from seeing his faithful subject in such a state, but from ridicule; laughing at this helpless me who cannot save even himself.
Tick Tock
The ever slow ticking of the grand clock known as ‘Big Ben’ and its antique handles that signalled the time. Just how many times have I seen them in that same position, 10 ticks until the XII.
Who knows, I lost count long ago.
Tick Tock
My powerless legs began moving in a mechanical motion, as though it had been programmed to do so. As time passed, even my human soul slowly started corroding away. My actions slowly stopped resembling that of a human’s, and more of that of a robot’s, performing the same commands endlessly.
Tick Tock
Without paying attention to my drenched hair, I broke into a sprint. The few people that were still up this late into the night stared at me with bewildered eyes as I surpassed them. It’s frightening how they have the same expressions every time I pass by.
Tick Tock
It doesn’t bother me anymore, never has. I’ve been receiving those same stares ever since I was sent to the Grotch.
Those workers at the Grotch always said that the place was the best compared to the mediocre facilities, uncaring staff and ‘problem’ children that the other orphanages had, they claimed that we wouldn’t find such a wonderful place anywhere else.
To me, the place was anything but what they described.
Tick Tock
That old me, always smiling even in the darkest of times, it was exactly why I was so hated in the orphanage. While all the others were desperately trying to appeal to customers to achieve a bright future, I was smiling as if it was the best day of my life, neither from happiness nor from joy, just a cold, meaningless smile.
Tick Tock
The children of the orphanage despised me due to this, they hated my very existence. While they were desperately trying to overcome their past traumas, I was smiling as if I was the happiest man alive. It later became an unspoken rule that no child in the orphanage was to interact with me.
Tick tock
In those dark times, my smile was my best friend yet my worst enemy. It prevented me from ever acquiring the happiness that I wished for, but it always reminded me at the end of the day that there was always light at the end of the tunnel.
It doesn’t matter anymore, all that is in the past, and I’ve arrived at my destination – a small intersection by the Westminster Bridge, perfectly on time like always.
A young girl not even eight years of age was slowly walking backwards towards the centre of the road unconsciously. Her guardians across the road were posing for a photo, unaware of the dangerous situation their daughter was in.
Also at this moment, the girl looked towards the road to notice the incoming black advertisement minivan from ‘Quantum Cleaners’. Seeing this, she froze in fear as though petrified.
I payed no attention to the girl’s expression, I’ve seen it far too many times to count.
Tick Tock
The fear of death, the single common trait between all humans, one that should be feared no matter what, left me long ago.
I powerlessly leapt onto the road and pushed her aside as minivan closed in. Her chestnut hair danced across the sky, reassuring me of her safety-
Ding Dong-
-Just as the bell rang.

Tick Tock
Back to block outside Grinch’s shoe store, a hundred metres from the intersection.
The nauseating headache that hits after a cycle, I’ve experienced it far too many times to even complain.
Tick Tock
My now fully recovered legs dragged my exhausted body down the street without purpose again. The smile I’ve always kept disappeared long ago along with my ability to think rationally.
Tick Tock
I’ve been here long enough to know just about everything that happens in the street during these ten seconds. Be it the expression of the bystanders or the type of burger a nearby person is currently ordering in the store to my right, I know it all.
Tick Tock
Every second of my accursed life, I ask myself, “When will this meaningless cycle of life and death end? When will I be free?”
Tick Tock
No… The way to escape was right in front of me this entire time, quite a simple one too.
Don’t Die.
Tick Tock
In other words, let the girl die.
Tick Tock
But can I really do that? Will my suffering really stop if I let a small, innocent young girl die?
I’ve tried everything you can possibly think of to escape, be it calling for help or aiming for the van itself, but nothing worked as if God had tampered with it himself. Every method I tried was countered in the most bizarre, supernatural ways that no man could ever think of. It’s always the same – I die, she lives.
Then, as if an hourglass had been turned, it all restarts.
Tick Tock
Just at that moment, I arrived at the intersection. The small girl clumsily walked back towards the road, unaware of the impending danger. Her two guardians turned around just in time to witness the events that were about to occur.
Tick Tock
I came to a halt at the lights; the conflicting thoughts in my mind prevented me from performing the usual cycle.
Can I really escape if I let her die, here and now? I’ve been blindly following a schedule for thousands of iterations, never once have I been this conflicted.
Tick Tock
While I hesitated for an instant, something unexpected occurred.
She tilted her head towards me, locking eyes with me for the first time since the day I’ve been here. Her quivering lips moved, but nothing came out. Her small, ruby eyes stared straight into my soul as her gaze sent shivers down my spine. Those eyes of hers were calling for help, fearing the phenomenon known as death.
…The answer was in front of me all this time.
I’ve lived my life in hiding, helping no one and receiving no help, what was my purpose in life? I don’t know, all humans live and die, yet I have lived for far too long. Even if I am to leave this prison, nothing will change. I will return to the streets and spend my days living a cowardly life.
But what if I can use what little time I have to make someone else smile? Then, maybe, my life will have a purpose. The young girl before me has yet to taste life’s thrills, but I can change that with what little power I have.
If I am to spend the rest of eternity saving her, then so be it, as long as she can smile in the future in my stead, then my life is fulfilled.
This resolve of mine, I will take it the grave, if I will ever have one.
For the first time in thousands of iterations, a smile flashed across my face as I leapt onto the street more energetically than ever before. I silently whispered a sentence into her ears as I pushed her aside. Fortunately, I still hadn’t lost the ability to communicate even after all this time.
“Live on.”
Ding Dong…

Firdavis Xireaili 9H