The Pet

He crawls down the halls, deluding his mind into believing that he is the only one who walks down the narrow path. His subconscious is aware of my existence but refuses to let the fact be released. The ignorance of his mind shines brightly when he claims that I am not here, for my arrival is inevitable for every man.

He had been continuing on the path to nowhere, painting it with hollow meaning as he went on, determined to believe that the path he took is the one all should take. He always trekked down his monotonous path with no goal in mind.

He never knew where he was going, but he claimed that it was fine.

How pitiful. He never knew that doing such a thing would infect him from the inside.

The journey he undertook was a treacherous one. Leeches fed on him joyfully as he limped blindly to nowhere. Yet, he continued to drag his lame legs down the thousand miles, as the rest of his body began to break down. The bones of his legs snapped as well as those of his hands. His skin broke open as maggots began to feed on the already rotten flesh inside. Nevertheless, he continued in a foolish and stubborn way.

Now, he drags himself pitifully before me. He seems incredibly regretful of the path he has taken. He seems to have never learned that loathing of the past is about as useful as sand in the desert.

However, the years of his hardship and suffering are of no matter to me.

Right now, I must judge his actions and how he should spend his years in this world of mine.

I wait until his shivering and muscle twitches have stopped. After he finally manages to lay still, I prepare to extract his soul.

However, the maggots and parasites had eaten away at him so terribly that they already revealed the withered soul underneath. The soul was hideous and mouldy, revolting and black. The pure whiteness had been degraded over a hundred years, eaten away by an aimless journey and an aimless mind.

I gently pull the soul out of his chest and place it in his very own room. I am still extremely upset at the fact that he had wasted his determination and chance for a better ending. However, life must go on. I must be careful not to mourn him for too long.

Before I leave him, I quickly set his room aflame and rush out the door. I hate to do this, but I cannot accept how he blatantly threw his gifts away.

It’s always sad to let them go like that. I always grow attached to them; they become a sort of pet.

However, I am comforted by the fact that the flames, and nothing else, will never be able to take him away from me. As I walk away down the hall, I hear him wake up in a frenzy.

He shouts for help and screams with all the force he can handle.

Despite how hard he tries to make himself heard, his screams are soon muddled with the screams of a thousand others.