Knock on his mind

Roleplay solo. Pfft, not too happy with how this turned out, but better this than nothing. Shall also get my butt here more.

When the ocean of thoughts splashes you with waves of reality, that's when you really get lost. Imaginary safe place, if steady and still, is surely better than nonexistent real one. For Mark, it was only natural to grip for what he could reach. He lost more than his twin that night; he lost remaining pieces of his sanity. It melted away and joined the flow of the gone twin's blood. He could almost feel it disappearing forever while he was dragging the soulless body where they could damage it no more. Them being the people who tore his family piece by piece, taking its members down like pawns and he wanted to make sure the 'checkmate' is his. The shattered mind of the grieving twin was set on revenge and it was only blossoming with shadows that covered most of the light galaxies in his personal universe, most of the stars of his sky died and he struggled to see them shine again. And even though it was a one-way road to destruction, the struggle itself was what kept him going.

 

Days like the one that took his brother away, he was running away from sleep. 

Nightmares crept and hung on his eyelashes long before the bullet kissed Luke's forehead, they'd grab his wrists and attempt to pull him closer. Their greedy screams and whines got even worse after Mark’s very own series of unfortunate events. He was sick of nights, disgusted by, completely tired of being tired and seeing the deaths of those he held dear. Eyes closed, and eyes opened.

 

Days like this one, sleep was running away from him. 

He would chase dreams, beg for nightmares, and hunt the nights of blank canvas to fill with images already flooding his consciousness. A godless hour or two of harmless blood and shots was desired from time to time, preferred over the burden of daily survival baring its teeth at his weakened form and heavy eyes.

 

Eventually, he’d get overwhelmed by both; exhausted by the race.

 

Not a full week has passed since his brother did, and the wounds were still fresh. He did get ocean away physically, but emotionally he was trapped inside the circle that was tightening around him �" stealing the air from his lungs and crushing him under the pressuring need for escape.

Alone under the dark cover of thoughts and questions, he searched for the answers possibly floating in the now hidden corners of his shaken mind. It wasn’t easy to sort everything back to shelves after the hurricane of his psyche happened, and he was annoyed by the fact it’ll take him some time to get to his old self, now broken without a part of his being that vanished along with his twin. The anchor he’s know since birth was now gone. It was only a matter of time when he’d sink for eternity.

Drying coffee stains were tainting the newspaper articles spread over the desk, circling the faces of well known law fighters he had met during the past few months. The most noticeable photo being the close up of Ryan Hardy’s face, seemingly no less tired and worn out than Mark felt his own looked.

He was furrowing his brow upon the images, wondering what would cause the same hole in their hearts he had because of them, puzzling the plans and planning the puzzles, wanting to gift them something as spectacular as a knife continuously twisting their emotions, because his were twisted to the end point. With sceneries and his slow breaths drifting up towards the ceiling, dancing there together around the chandelier his mother’s picked somewhere back in Russia, Mark was immediately dazed by a sudden variation in the circle.

First it shook him out of the thoughts �" a voice. Then it shook off the transparent dream-like state he was in �" familiar voice.

 

"Mark" the sound of his name echoed in the absence of the its owner, and Mark knew its tone all too well not to peek around in disbelief, too amazed to notice the traces of sleep in his own voice as he spoke. Warily allowing his hues to search through the living room for the source, he found himself gaze-glued to the temporarily present painting that reflected his outside and hurt him inside - the mirror on the cupboard, hit only by a few brushes of moonlight and the small night lamp, otherwise masked with darkness of early hours. Catastrophic image of his own apocalyptic appearance, his walls crumbling and veiling the once proud city with dust, yet no line drawn by worry held his attention.  

What caught his attention and messed his mind up and around, was the small, seemingly irrelevant detail on his face; his lips curved up in a way seldom present there - it belonged to his brother.

 

That's how he felt: like fighting the urge to reach the surface. So he kept diving deeper.

 

 

He swore his brother just got back and knocked on the door of his mind.

Mark happily greeted him with a smile, his very own one.

 

Welcome, and feel like home.

 

He sat in the silence and blankness knowing he was never really alone; he had his own guardian angel, and it was the only angel he has ever believed in.

Reviews

[Ruth]

This is wonderfully insightful and cleverly told with elegance...much enjoyed :)

[Sami Khalil]

"blossoming with shadows that covered most of the light galaxies in his personal universe, most of the stars of his sky died and he struggled to see them shine again. And even though it was a one-way road to destruction, the struggle itself was what kept him going."

My faves in this enjoyable read. Bravo...:)..........