Short Stories

Wall.

The pounding hits my head with deep alarm.

I am unable to think with the cookie crumbles of fragility falling before my eyes.

Each knock is an advantage I cannot afford to give.

But I am too weak to fight back, I've run too many times to escape giving in. But now, I've no escape from this cage of vulnerability. It's hold against me is too strong to even attempt to raise a hand.

My weakness has gotten the better of me; powerless in the claws of the unknown.

What lies on the other side?

My fear of the truth. A truth I was forced to run from in the first place and now I am to face that fear within the body of incapability. An embarrassment.

How am I to face the other side if the body my soul is trapped in is unable to even pick itself up?

If this useless body cannot even stand how am I to build the courage to look in the eyes of my fear?

If my own sight fails to lift its gaze upon the truth is it worth living?

Incapable of an ounce of power before the damaged bricks.

Each stab against the cracks of clay is a wound formed against my restless soul.

The restlessness a cause of my state.

To have reached this far to only collapse before a fear of the only truth that holds my hope of survival. Where did that strength go? It was dragged back at every step forward, coerced to take another two steps back. How much did it take? It took each day that formed into another year; eight to be exact, eight years to have reached this far. As a result? Drained from each attempt to move forward, my form is now one of – what you would call – voided.

A form believed to no longer exist – correction: shouldn't exist.

But to experience one last encounter with my hope is everything I've already given, and everything I'm capable of giving.

I am not ready to give in just yet, not yet, I am not ready for them to take over me and determine my fate, not when I've reached this far to get what I've dreamed of seeing for so long; a dream based on my imagination that transformed my fear of truth to an image of hope - an imagination I simply can't afford to waste!

Each hole formed allows the sight to become clearer. It's no longer a dream I crave to look forward to; it's reality. The orbs of a night blue sky, hiding the secrets of the world from within. The body of a soldier scarred by the countless battles of war, forced to carry the weight of the world. A soul who did not deserve the fate nature formed, a restless soul searching for the one but trapped on the other side. Now, as sediments jump against each bump, an image is revealed; the truthful fear of hope.