Pain.
The blade of the dagger felt cold. Very cold. Especially when it was pressed against the soft skin on the wrist. The red petals of blood dripped onto the floor, taking my pain and anguish with it. It slowly seeped into the cracks of the floor, disappearing.
I wiped the blood off the dagger with my sleeve and unconcernedly examined the dagger. A set of runes were carved into it so deep that time would never ruin it, a metal rose acted as the handle, yet the spikes from the stem cut your hands.
It was beauty and elegance all in one. The blade was smooth and sharp, running a finger over it would tear the skin and make a clean cut.
I hid it in its sheath, an ivory container with protection runes carved on it. Ironic. The container was cursed to protect, to help, while the dagger was cursed to harm, to kill. Wonderfully ironic.
Dark
Let’s put it straight. It terrifies me, the unknown.
The past isn’t necessarily a good thing for some.
The bleakness, the dark is not black. It’s not colour.
It’s nothing. It is empty of colour, colourless.
It hurts to think of it.
There’s nothing worse than nothing.
At some point you drift away to some place where
Nothing SHOULDN’T exist.
But it’s like you’re entirely too present in the moment, too far gone in panic.
You feel trapped and scared.
It’s almost as if the dark was too much to handle.
Powerless against the shadows.
No light.
Terrifying.
Silence.
A Devil’s Story
Love is blind to the
Evil and the hatred of
People.
Once upon a
Time, an angel and a
Devil fell in love.
Caught in the wrong
Time, and place.
The devil was let free.
The angel had fallen too
Hard, and too fast.
The devil watched
The angel cry.
While he wilted.
The devil was
Hidden to
The angel,
Lost to the shadows.
The devil
Was no more than a
Mere whisper.
So concludes the story of
The devil and the angel.
a tragedy that
keeps going to this day.
To my best friend.
Thank you for letting me go. I’m sorry I couldn’t thank you personally. I’m so sorry you had to deal with me.
I’m not worth the heartbreak, the pain, the emotional baggage.
Trust me.
Let me go and
Move on, okay?
I’m a lost cause, dead to the ones I love, betrayed by the one that was my forever, haunted by ghosts of the past.
But you’re different.
You have a chance. Save yourself.
By the time you read this, I will be in a wonderland, a place without pain or sorrow.
The jump is 50 stories high, enough for flashback, don’t you think?
I will miss you. So much.
Maybe... you will think of me too? With happy memories?
Please. Forgive me.
When my funeral is held, tell them.
Tell them that I wanted to be free, I needed to leave the world behind.
Tell them about my life and how I was the one person who could make this world a bit more chaotic.
Tell them that my favourite flowers were orchids, how I would have loved to spend the rest of my life being my crazy self, how my life comprised of me being a fool to try and light up the world.
Ask them to burn my body and scatter the ashes into the ocean.
That’s where I belong, anyway.
Please don’t cry. I cannot bear to see you cry.
I’ve always had a fascination with falling. You know this, don’t you?
I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you, that broke you.
Thank you for trying to be there, for making an effort.
I’m sorry that I can’t tell you that I love you more than I should have.
Unrequited love, we could call it.
But it’s okay. You gave me more happiness than I deserved. What we had was enough.
Maybe I left too soon. but you know, I was always on the ride of excitement.
You were, and will always be my shining star in the dark.
You were trusting to me, and kind, and endlessly forgiving.
I’m sorry I broke your trust. I hate that I had promsied to always be there, to never just die but I’m barely hanging on, love. I’m barely hanging on.
Please don’t hate me. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
You will live a better life,in a society that doesn’t demand you to be cold and harsh.
I only ever wished for that, but I was too selfish, too stubborn to let you go. I promise everything will be easier, will be better now.
What I can tell you is:
My last thought will be that
You’re beautiful.
Promise.
Numbness
It was the mind-numbing torture that killed him.
The girl, no more than age 13, slowly sank under the surface of the water, her body a mangled and torn mess, the results of his breakdown.
Turning around, he walked back into the town, where the people were. He didn’t know what he needed, but he wanted to feel the buzz of life again, anything except the emptiness.
He could not cry. He had to be strong. Life had taught him a very important lesson indeed. When all falls, be detached. Be strong. The world could jeer at you, mock you, curse you, break you. But you could not give them the satisfaction. No reaction was to be given, ever.
He knew no consequence would come to him though. He had gotten significantly better at hiding his tracks. It wouldn’t do for him to ruin everything he had now, would it?
He stops at the outskirts of town. The wide forest, the wild freedom was narrowing into one small path, towering buildings looming over, confining and anxiety-inducing.
Maybe that was why he snapped. Really, this never should have happened. It was the third time this week he had lost control, and he didn’t understand it. How could he? He barely knew his name when he was in the trance, as he liked to call it, and when he was free? Not a chance of reining himself in until something happened.
It was the numbness, the unfeeling sensation that controlled him, sending his feet towards his apartment which wasn’t home, but it would do.
It was the curse of the people, he was sure of it. People on the news never depicted him for who he was. Just himself, not the famous criminal. For once, he thought. Just for a moment. One peaceful moment that wouldn’t haunt him forever, one moment without the demons wrecking havoc in his mind. He seemed to be in a dream, drifting away, and his body was controlled by some unknown force, just. Coping. A silent force of nature.
He looked at the pills on the cabinet shelf. Pills?
He remembered now. The ones that had kept him alive once, that let him live one day, just one moment unanchored by that unexplainable sadness.
He seemed to break out of the stupor, the haze that kept him from falling harder, faster. The medication had finally worn off.
With a sense of nervous determination, he picked up the bottle and swallowed one pill. Then another. Then another. It was not enough.
When the people find him, one week later, they would see how he had bitten his own wrists and let himself bleed to death, slumped over a chair, empty bottle tipped over by his side.
Child
“Mom, can I jump in the puddles?”
“No, dear. Come along, we’re late. ”
“Mom, can I eat candy?”
“No, dear, they’ll make your teeth rot.”
“Mom, can you take me to the park tomorrow?”
“Sorry honey. I’m very busy.”
“Mom, can you stay and hug me while I fall asleep?”
“Sweetie, you need to learn how to sleep on your own.”
“Mom, can I give you a hug?”
“No, honey, I have a party and I can’t wrinkle my clothes.”
“Mom, can you read me a story?”
“Dear, you’re old enough to read your own story now. You’re 5 years old, sweetheart.”
“Mom, can you come with me to meet my best friend?”
“Honey, it’s about time we let you out without us.”
“Mom, can you help me with homework?”
“Ask your teacher tomorrow, that’s a dear. Now run along!”
“Mom, can you attend my graduation?”
“Sorry, dear. I can’t, I have lunch with my friends tomorrow at the Peak Buffet, it’s a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity!”
“Mom, could you sign this form to have me interview for Cambridge?”
“My, sure. As long as I don’t have to be there, you know I have poker every Tuesday!”
“Dear, could you come over and help me organise my wardrobe? I lost my pink fur coat, and I need it today, at the fashion ceremony!”
“Mom, I’m in class.”
“Be a dear and skip class just this once, won’t you? Mommy needs to make a good impression!”
*click
“Dear, where are you? The funeral’s about to start!”
“Sorry mother, I’m coming! Just a minute!”
“You cruel, sick, child! How could you be late to your own grandmother’s funeral! You obnoxiously mean-hearted person!”
*click.
“Why didn’t you cry at today’s funeral?”
“I thought. I needed to be strong for everyone?”
“You terrible person. It’s only courtesy to cry at a funeral!”
“But mother...”
“Goodbye.”
*click
“Dear, why aren’t you here yet? I’ve been sitting here for ages, and you won’t show up!”
“Mother, you called me 2 minutes ago and I was in another state.”
“I don’t care! I am your mother, and show some respect!”
*click
“Dear, your father died. I need the money. Now be a good girl and give me the money he left you.”
“Did you ever love him truly?”
“Silly girl. Women can’t marry for love, we’d all be peasants!”
*click
“Dearest, can I meet your grandson?”
“I’m sorry, I have no time to bring him to you. We are at the park, playing in puddles and having fun.”
“But I am more important!”
“How so, mother?”
“I am richer than you, I have more relations than you, I am your mother!”
“I have no more time for you!”
“I raised you!”
“Well I’m very sorry, mother”
*click
(Purely fictional)