Endless - Mind Over Matter Contest

Endless

I fall, knowing no direction, knowing only the rapid beating of my anxious heart. Lost in the abyss of my mind, I fall among thoughts that threaten to crush me into oblivion. They ghost over and under me, insubstantial yet heavy enough to choke the breath from my lungs. Unconquerable.

A million questions whirl, fluttering, desperate to be solved. I long to blow into them like dandelions vanishing on the wind, but I cannot catch my breath. Instead, I wave my hands through the air, frustration growing as I fail to silence the ghosts. I slice through nothingness, and the shadows cackle.

It's too much, too hard, and I'm so tired, and I need the endless game to end. Please, let it end.

Light.

Warm, soft, it illuminates the darkness around me.

I see my thoughts. They jump through the air, bleeding fishes struggling on the ends of glistening lines. Their movements are transformed; the menace of their dance dissolves into ineptitude. Their faces, painted on in fumbling strokes. They bob up and down, puppets on strings.

They are puppets. Their eerie, ragged bodies hang from strings. They were created merely to frighten me. But who is the puppeteer?

The light answers. It moves rapidly, spotlighting the puppets, then arching upwards to reveal...

My heart stops.

Massive hands with long, slender fingers, operating slowly yet precisely in the same sinister way as a spider's matchstick legs. The hands grasp crosses, and they bounce the strings, making the puppets jump. My eyes trail from the long nails, up over the thin wrists, up the arms, over the shoulders and then I see its face. I look again, because my mind is struggling to believe what my eyes scream to be true.

It is my face.

I am the giant that bobs the string. I am the puppeteer.

I created the puppets to torment myself? I created the ghosts that haunt me?

Then, hope.

A beam of light careens towards me. I put my hand into its warmth, and something strange happens. The light, once pale, darkens, and its molecules grow denser, like gas condensing into clouds. I blink, and to my utter shock, the light solidifies into a golden sword.

I wrap my hand firmly around the hilt; the weight of it feels powerful. A single thought enters my mind.

You can do this.

Non-intrusive, yet entirely out-of-place, this thought frightens me, but not in the way of the ghosting puppets. Then another thought follows.

It's okay. These worries aren't real. I control my thoughts, and how I feel.

It sends a warmth through me, and becomes my own.

The last thing the puppeteer sees is my smile, teeth sparkling, until I plunge the golden sword through her heart. The puppets fall to the ground, lifeless.

And although the sword sometimes dims, threatening to dissolve back into light, and although the puppets occasionally flutter, helped by an unseen wind, I have discovered the power of positivity, and will use it forever.