dead.

            Storm clouds cluttered above the death of twilight, glowering with downcast eyes, without emotion or intent. They seemed to loiter there, in the sky above, as pointless as a candle without a wick, simply an annoyance to the already irritated atmosphere.

            They certainly were an irritant to me, laying here, basking beneath the slate colored sky, alone and as vacant inside as the sky was of blue. I came here often, to the graveyard, to think, to ponder, to dream.

            My dreams had died a long time ago and with the approach of the autumn, they seemed even farther away, dying like the leaves of summer and as easily swept aside by others. It was I that gathered their fragmented bodies close and beseeched them to live. Still, the heart monitor wailed.

            Death was inevitable for all things, including dreams, as non-substantial as they were. It was the laws of physics that administered the final blow. Things were unobtainable, distant, and pointless. The reality of adulthood, the need for financial gain, the pressure for normality an ever-present force to crush ones dreams, ones desires, ones fervor for life.                   

            I lay here in the dying summer grass, stretched beneath the hoary sky, contemplating the possibilities, twirling the blade between my fingers, my veins pulsating with anticipation.

            It was ironic that I come here, to the graveyard, to lay on the metaphysical corpse that was my dreams, feeding them my life while I dwindled to nothing. Perhaps they could manifest without me, perhaps they could find the strength within to grow vibrant from my end. If so, then perhaps my life (and death) had not been a total waste.

            “Shhhh… Not long now.” I whispered, stroking my throbbing vein, the blade rasping as tenderly as a lover’s tongue, so sweet, so satisfying.
            My dreams twisted beneath me, within me, shuddering as they came into nascent, elated to as last thrive and flourish. All I needed to do was press a little harder….

            Blood, scarlet and hot, bubbled to the surface, streaming down my arms like tears. These crimson tears fell, soaking into the soil like rain, like sorrow. Perhaps someone was sad, perhaps someone was crying, but I doubted it. I didn’t care. I smiled.

            “Not long now…” I whispered once more, bathing in the warmth of the blood, in the birth of my dreams, waiting for my body to die.

            It didn’t take long… I was floating away in the velvet darkness, watching my dreams rise from the grave and drink my blood… Drink my life… And somewhere, in the rim of the shadows, someone was screaming… For me? No. It was too late… I had died long ago… Inside… Now my body and mine were one… Dead… Free.

Reviews

[The Protagonist]

Wow, this is really touching. Made me a bit teary tbh! Keep writing.