I tried to find the words in my mind, but I could not seem to write them on the stone. I looked at you, but I saw nothing. It was unexpected, cruel and cold; the most unforgettable day of my life; the loneliest place I have ever been. After the horrible attack I stood alone. Even though I was prepared, it was still horrible to accept. How could this happen? I don’t know which is worse: Having something happen and be surprised, or knowing something would happen and not be surprised. It hurts more like a knife; I have been stabbed with it too many times. But I have always recovered.
I recover because of the very reason I feel this pain.
I recover because there is nothing left to do. These moments come and go like the tide. You could never ask for a steady, unvarying wind. For seconds I see my way out of the Hell I have been forced into, but as soon as I move to escape this cold cell, the bars lock in around me tighter then before. It feels like a sharp needle poking into my gut; a reminder that there is still much more pain to suffer. All I have left now are memories of better times. But those too, are slipping away. As soon as I reach for those memories they fall through my hand like sand and it was as if I never had those memories at all. Most likely they are distractions. Slowly but absolutely I am changing. Against my wishes the wheels in my mind are reversing and the love in my heart is dimming; nearly escaping completely. I am no longer in control, but I do not know of any master I serve but my own. How could one moment be so inclusively horrible? How is this justifiable? I am just a person, what more can I offer? I can see my mistake so clearly now. I trusted those around me, even with no reason. I trusted, and that was my downfall. I was careless; and now I am aware. I see the other side. I see all the flaws. I see no perfection. Finally, my new master appears. Revenge fills my body; reaching into every corner of my mind, and every drop of my blood. I did not create such a monster. From the moment I stopped writing on the stone this has been happening while I was unaware. You had to have known about this; you, an expert of hate. I helplessly am your servant, ready to spread the cold you have created in hope of some warmth. The truth is that it only gets colder, and darker. The sensation of cruelty grows with every breath. The only release of the pain afflicted is continuing the process. I must keep going, I know of no other way. There is no distinction between guilty and innocent, just the absolute certainty it all must suffer the same fate as I have. I thought my eyes would hold the same vacant, unloving numbness as those I had been attacked by, but I was wrong. I feel rage, anger, and above all insatiable thirsts to not only do wrong, but to cause horrific pain to all those who crossed my path. These eyes were a perfect disguise. No one could ever recognize me now. I can not even remember my name in my past existence, nor do I have a name now. My hatred is too great to offer a word for. The more destructive I am the more of a victim I have become. For once, in a time long before I can remember, I held the same qualities of those I hunt to annihilate. I know of those emotions by the screams of my prey, but I no longer have understanding for them. But somewhere deep inside me I have the desire to recognize. Yes, I had a life before this one! But has too much time passed? Have I lived this horrible life too long to go back? How could a monster like me turn back from this addictive sport? I do not fear pain. I do not fear the dark. But so suddenly I fear to go back to what I once was; to go back to a world where I could be a sufferer of an empty world I no longer understand. Before I could go back I must accept the challenge of what I fear. In the process I discovered I had more fear then anything else; more so then the cold hatred that fueled my actions. Could it be that simple? Yes, I am indeed afraid. But I know I am ready to be forgiven. The last obstacle is to forgive myself; and easy task in theory, but impossible to fully complete. The human emotions which were so suddenly stripped from me years ago came back in a warm rush. The pressure in my mind was completely overwhelming, but I held onto it. I replaced one cell for another, an unbearably more painful one. No longer did I hate, no longer was I alone. But guilt trapped me in tighter with billions of pins stabbing my heart. For moments the pain knocked me nearly unconscious, but I fought and struggled to stay awake in order to serve my penance. As easy as it felt I could give up or worse, resist my punishment, I held steady. As painful as it was I was unusually satisfied. In moments I will recover, if there is a way to recover from something like this. Somehow I will make it here, as I had before. How can I trust the world again? How can I trust myself? The view of others happiness instantly enrages me to destroy, but now I have something else. I have the love, though rusty in practice, to accept their happiness and make it my own. I can look at their faces and smile to them, for them. I would like nothing more but for this to be over. I would like the challenge to be complete. But I have hurt too many people. I know that now, and accept what I have done. As much as I want to retreat, I must step out. I must show others about this love, this empathy. I can understand, and that is truly humanities greatest gift.
Re: Short story
Submitted by rikk on Sun, 2009-04-19 - 00:57
hi, the best i can say is wow. if this is yours so much the better. If this is not, share more. I don't know if i would call it a story. I think more like poetry. different form others, hints of writers like sylvia platt, shakespear and others. If there is more i would like to read them. If there is more organize them and try to get them published. If i describe it, i don't know that i can. What i see is the journey of a life in the blink of an eye. thank you . rikk