Hope
Darkness was falling all around. The sounds of screaming filled my ears, drowning out all other sounds. Why was I here? Why had I come to this place? Why did it hurt so much?
"I can give you hope!" he had said. "It'll be better this way."
It hadn't been better. Hadn't even been good. The image of absolute glee on his sadistic face as he pulled the blood-stained knife from my bleeding heart was still burned in my mind's eye. His grating laughter began to fill my already throbbing head, swelling into a horrible symphony of hate and despair.
I had had no hope. I had been living (if you could call it that) in a constant cycle of regret and loneliness. I was searching for hope in a world that seemed devoid of life itself. The backstabber had come promising me the very thing I was searching for. Hope. He'd lied. Now I was more alone, and more hopeless than I'd ever been before. Writhing in pain and crying tears of anguish, I cried into the darkness; searching for just a fleeting glimpse of hope. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to heal my broken and dying soul.
"Help!" I cried, weakly. I felt my soul draining away; fading into the darkness enclosing me.
"I'm here." whispered a warm, gentle voice. "I've got you."
I didn't know who it was, but I knew he was there to help. His touch was different from the one of the hateful demon of false hope. This savior's touch was one of real hope. Tangible and bright.
"Trust me." said the gentle man, lifting me in his arms.
Strength and power emanated from him. I felt myself resting my faith in him more and more. Somehow, his very light was healing my deepest scars. I felt a rush of something I hadn't ever felt, but knew what it was immediately. Like a ray of sunshine peeking through a bleak winter sky, it warmed my heart and soul.
It was hope.
Hunted
I could smell its rancid breath as it permeated the humid air in my bedroom closet. It was scratching and sniffing, tasting the molecules for my scent. Its heavy footsteps thumped around outside of the door.
”Please, no!” I whispered, closing my eyes.
I heard it coming closer, still searching for its prey, me. I squeezed myself farther into the back of my closet, trying to melt into the darkness around me. I was clutching my favorite childhood toy to my chest. I had found it on the floor when I had scrambled into my closet, trying to hide from the horror that awaited me outside. The tattered teddy bear provided small comfort from the terror that hunted me.
THUMP.
Silence.
THUMP. THUMP.
A steady thumping sound traveled across the walls of my bedroom. It came closer and closer, growing louder and louder. My heart was beating so hard against my sternum I thought that it might break through my chest.
THUMP.
The thumping stopped abruptly, and a deafening silence ensued. I cautiously looked up at the door of my closet, expecting the inevitable crashing of the door being torn off of its hinges, screams piercing the dark, and vile laughter, but there was nothing.
THUMP. THUMP.
The thumping resumed, growing ever closer until my closet door was rattling under every blow. I stifled a scream as a giant claw wrapped around the edge of my door. A screechy creaking sound emanated from the hinges of the door.
“Anybody home?” asked a deep, raspy voice. “Don’t be shy! I just want to play!”
The fist of fear gripped my heart and squeezed it until it stopped.
CRASH!!!
The door flew off of its hinges, revealing a ghastly sight. A reptilian creature rose to its full height, stretching four scaly wings, and flexing rippling muscles covered in sharp scales that wildly pierced the darkness at scattered angles. Bioluminescent light cast a pale blue glow over everything.
“What do you want?” I whispered hoarsely.
”You.” It rumbled.
”Why?” I trembled.
”Because, child! You are my greatest trophy! A human, especially a young one such as yourself, is quite a delicacy where I come from.”
”No!” I tried to scream, but it got caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat as the creature dragged me off into the darkness.
Nowhere
It's a cold, wintery morning as The Fisherman pulls into the parking lot. He pulls his bags from the backseat of his 2004 Ford F-150, and drags them through the glass, automatic sliding doors that mark the entrance to an unknown destination. The sounds of hundreds of people milling about fills his ears in a cacophonous din so loud it drowns out his very thoughts.
Just last week he had bought a plane ticket to nowhere, and he was ready to go. He was ready to get away from the masses and leave this world behind. There was nothing here for him, or so he thought. He might as well save everyone else the trouble of caring about his existence. He didn't belong; didn't feel any purpose. He felt as if he had been born into a world devoid of sanity and hope.
He gets in line to check his baggage, and says one final goodbye to the supposed wretched world he lives in. He hefts his bags onto the scale and shoves his hands in the pockets of his dirty blue jeans. The attendant glances at her computer screen and turns to look The Fisherman in the eyes.
"No one truly goes nowhere."
Suddenly, it felt as if a burden had been lifted from The Fisherman's shoulders.