Falling, falling, falling
The snow was falling, coming to rest on the pavement, He let out a cool breath, the fog rising and enveloping him in an icy embrace. The snow wasn’t the only thing that was falling, he could feel himself fall too, slowly breaking apart, slowly being pulled apart at the seams, slowly losing himself into the dwindling madness.
He was falling, he was losing himself.
His thoughts taken over, being consumed, filled with words and helpless that did not belong to him.
“That is your curse, love.” The witch had told him, a pretty thing she had been, a pretty thing with such a cruel heart, her hair had fallen around her like a curtain, pink like her lips, he had taken her for a fairy, not for a heartless witch. A heartless witch who had crushed his heart.
“You will feel the pain, the pain of everyone.” She had let out a menacing chuckle. “You will succumb to the weight of their pain, their desires, until you lose sight of your own thoughts, until you wake up in cold sweat wondering what belongs to them and what belongs to you.
Until you realize that nothing belongs to you at all. They have consumed the very essence of your soul, of what makes you you. Because you will no longer be you. You will be them. All of them. All the people crying and screaming, you will lose your sense of self.”
He didn’t do anything wrong. He could have, countless times. Sometimes he went a bit over the board, became reckless, but he was always mindful. Always caring, trying to protect others more than himself.
Too much empathy, he was already an empath. But having to carry the curse? It broke him, he was tireless, so tired, he wanted to run away, find an escape.
And so an escape he sought. Wandering through the sheets of white in the streets, A winter wonderland it was, He didn’t feel cold, bundled up in his hoodie, He had bought it a long time ago, seen it on the street and on impulse gotten it- despite the millions of others he already had- It was the only thing which brought him warmth, the only thing that didn’t make him feel anxious. That didn’t get angry with him.
People made him anxious, he realized. People scared him.
Perhaps, he mused, that was his curse. To be afraid of people. He didn’t know if the witch was evil or just petty. She saw humans as playthings, something trivial to play along with, to observe. She was quite the inquisitive creature. She never quite saw how far she went- that or maybe he had went wrong, somewhere, somehow, and she decided to enact revenge on him.
He shook the snow out of his hair, covering his head with both hands, letting out a deep sigh. He had to leave. He couldn’t- couldn’t be the someone for people anymore. Not until he had the curse removed, not until he could find himself.
Not until his thoughts could become his own once again. Not until he had healed.
The snow, he observed, had a faint glow to it, following his line of sight he saw the pink entity, far away, but even from that distance he could imagine that proud smug look on her face.
They met each other, halfway through.
“I see you came looking for me.”
“I need you to remove the curse.”
“But it’s so much fun seeing you cry out in pain, rocking back and forth on your knees and stifling your screams so no one can hear you, why would I give that up?” The wind howled, carrying the snow along with it, blinding the night with its icy night, letting the stars remain hidden.
“You can turn me into a dragon?”
She looked taken aback, not quite expecting that, “And what of all the people you are leaving behind?”
“They can wait, I want to choose myself, for once.”
Comments