My Short Stories

In Security

"A man without strength or charisma is no man, but a child. The humiliation of these failures is a self-prosecuted death sentence, pleading guilty amidst a jury comprised of fools still seeing value in you. That wish to be faster, sociable, stronger or lovable is granted by the little god in our heads, the man letting us live in security and paradise."

I embody these humiliating contrasts, so much so that they have become my second half, a fraction of me whom I cannot live without. Raised in a motherly nest with my wings clipped, that desire for exploration is at war with my fear of vulnerability. Born into a world with my presumably low social status, my fear of bothering everybody battles my wish to speak to everybody.

I live only to spectate this world, learning from those still choosing to interact with me. I envy their success, their strength and charisma embodying what makes a man valuable in this world. This jealousy creates a little god in my head, devoid of any flaws, and with his strength, he takes me to his copy of this world, granting me his godlike powers and letting me live in security and paradise.

Walking through stores, restaurants, parks and wherever else, I can encounter whomever wherever whenever I want, my victims left to repent and unable to withdraw. This new world is wholly my victim, for they have left my selfishness unquenched. Those who rejected my unmade offers will come back to me, pleading for a second chance to stand alongside this almighty god I have become.

My smile in this world fades as I turn to face reality again. Here, there are no blessings of power for the weak to cover up their insecurities, leaving me the most endangered. "You cannot grow without allowing vulnerability" I am told, a phrase so contradictory yet so widely preached. I have already grown - I am the god of the new world, a world waiting to be perfected.

I slip back into fantasy once more, out to cleanse and perfect this world, but something doesn't feel right. There are far too many victims in this plan of mine - is everyone really this ruined? A devil must have created this, a world practically designed to breed new devils on an industrial scale. I wonder how I may have slipped through the cracks. Was I destined to save this world?

"There is no devil."

Hearing those words brought me back to reality, leaving me horrified at this humiliating concept. The world who has left me weak and unloved cannot possibly be my own illusion. But it all makes sense. Nobody is more responsible for my own failures than me. Their rejection of my unmade offers was never truly a rejection, but rather a fear of it and it's humiliation.

Must a child experience this to become a man? If so, then should I bother? There is no need to bother. I can rest in peace in my permanent fantasy for the rest of my life, the brief glimpses of reality reminding me of this paradise in security. Never again do I need to leave this nest and grow my wings, they grow to my will.

Everything in this world is under my control, growing and shrinking to my desires,

everything, but me.