Crossroads | DreamNotFound

Chapter 10. - Blending off

For the past couple of days, the boy had helplessly traversed along the dusty pathways, his throat sore and his body slowly falling apart. With no food or water whatsoever, the journey became longer, darker and somehow heavier – steer hills, lack of energy, beggining halucinations and paranoid thinking taking over both his body and his mind.

There was no anger or sadness anymore, there was just void. A thought kept making it's way back into his head, yet George wasn't one to give up on his own self. Although his unstable moods and behaviours were driving him way too close to the edge, there was one single fact to keep him going.

A feeling so hurtful, he would have never in a thousand years had wished to put a curse this powerful upon his loved ones.

Because the soul leaves the body, only a memory remaining in a space of the living minds — and so, the dead go, yet the alive stay, and they stay in horror, captured by the tragedy of their own loss and thrown into a pit so tall no mortal can climb back up.

Eighter you stick your fingers into the muddy wall, dirt dug deep under your fingernails and your teeth clanging against each other as the nails rip out one after another, blood rushing down your trembling hands — or you sit down.

You sit down and you just deal with it, waiting for the moment a wave of electricity runs through your body, the lightning taking away your very last breath — and it feels so good.

Eighter you work to die or you wait to die — it all depends on you, on the motivation you manage to put into it. People dream of happiness. People wish to have money, freedom, land, love.. People dream, but when it doesn't fall to their hands, they get emotional. 

And that is why hope is a person's biggest treasure — because without hope, there's nothing. Only an endless desire for the lightning to struck.

With no dreams, there really is no point. Without a reason, you're basically dead eighter way.

Sometimes, it is unchangeable. Sometimes it's meant to be, the wall is meant to fall apart, it's heavy pieces weighting down your body.

And why is that, you ask? — it's because at the end of the day, nothing, and I mean nothing in the world is worth climbing the bloody wall while knowing the one, very important fact — your time will come eventually, and there is no stopping it.

___

You know, Dream,

His feet unsteady in the cold water, the slippery stone making his body fall backwards, a sudden splash echoed around the forest as he landed in with a gentle gasp.

Some things just can't be.

Lightheaded, the young man's hand flow up to lightly sail on the water as he groggily looks up to the sky — a glazed terracota ceiling, a pattern rather colorful. Confused, he fights his way to wake himself up, suddenly jumping to sit up as soon as his head turns slowly to the side.

"Hello, stranger," a blonde kid, about 8 years old gazes at him with his eyes wide open, scanning the brunette with a concerned look on his face. A bit smaller than the other, there stands a cracked up brunette, about the same age as the blonde, giggling at George's wiped out expression.

"Come on, kids, let the man rest,"

I tried, I really did, my friend,

but my mind keeps pulling me away.