Cracked Glass

I

Ruins of which remind everyone of dark times of life hold themselves below the view of which the human eye can see. For no one would even bother searching below the cracked glass. Each tiny sliver of hope remains of the old town, could anyone here remember it? Could they even imagine what it was like? The only person who would ever remember anything was Henry Cambridge. He could never share his knowledge of fear of death and beyond.

   
    "Jocelyn, you can't tell anyone." He urged his friend as his voice quivered with fear.
    "Henry, calm down, I would never put you in that type of danger and you know it. I just... I want to leave this place!" She cried out. "Its a prison! Keeps the real world away from us and it basically tears our life away from us."
    "Stop being dramatic, Josie. Okay? Its not that bad."
    "Henry, I don't care if you don't come with me but I'm leaving. I need to get out of here."
    "Hey, hey, hey, alright... We'll go but we have to be careful. If they find out then... They'll send the search parties after us and then we're screwed." Henry reminded her, carefully.

    Memory is a sad thing.
    The good comes, the good goes.
    The bad comes, it lodges itself in your mind until your thoughts ruin you from the inside out. The way the thoughts could corrupt someone is like fire to kerosine or a match to gas. It burns you until you have no choice to jump into water and give up. The issue is, the water would drown you as your thoughts pulled you down. It would keep you from being you, preventing you from true happiness and freedom from the black crow of misery. As the thoughts keep you down, the swirls of dirt will pull you down by its shadow and plant you like a flower in a bed of seaweed as they tangle around your legs and keep you from rising.
   

    "Ready?" Henry asked as we were stepping over the last log of our journey before reaching freedom.
    "Ready." I smiled, snatching his hand into mine.
   
    Freedom.
    Holds you back when you need to push forward, but like a gust of wind you'll lose your balance and you'll fall, unable to go on.
    Every time you think you will make it... You take one step forward and two steps back. Years and years of wondrous hopefulness all going down the drain, splitting at the cracked glass. Moving swirls of warmth clouding the sky only to be demolished by the upcoming snow.
    Faith can be stripped from your grasp like tug of war with flaming chains, you'll just give up after being burned, fighting grows too hard. Life as we know it being cut down to nothing but a shard of metal under the gleaming moon in the midnight time. Peace will always find a way, though the price is lethal, we sacrifice everything for just the idea of the new beginning; a new era.
    Nothing changes, it's too hard. They find a way to get around it. They say that sameness is what keeps order. Change means war. What they don't know is that change keeps us sane. After all, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result but is that even true? What insane person shows and expresses emotion, in fear of being figured out. We will never admit it, they said. We will keep order, they said. You'll kill us all, we said. You're already dying, they say.
    No one understand the truth of it all. The blood from a wound like a warmth to the skin, the pain diminishes itself in fear of being caught. A laceration hides away to prevent vision of old scars. Like a child scraping their knee, they never knew what happened. It always heals.
    The way homosapeans understand the world can be dangerous to everyone they have ever known. Seems like a tornado of weapons and hate swirling and whirling around the human mind. No one understands where it has come from and no one understands why it continues to terrorize every thing. Either painfully fast or agonizingly slow, it continues to lead our life away, dragging us to past memories and ruins of what has once been. Screams of tortured lives revolve around us as we walk around, every single touch of hope, shrivels away in fear of the unknown.
    "Henry... It's watching us. Can't you see it? It's- It's right there!" I screeched, shielding my eyes from its glowing yellow ones."
    "Josie, don't look at it. Look at me. Just- just whatever you do, don't look at it."
    "You're too late, Henry. What will happen? I saw- I saw its p-piercing eyes!"
    "You're going to be okay. I promise."
    "My hands are numb." I murmured, looking down at them, shaking furiously.
    "You're going to be okay, Josie." He smiled sadly, tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to flow down as they sparkled like fish in the moonlight, swimming through a clear stream of water, not wanting to be caught and taken from their home.
    "Don't lie to me."
    "I'm going to help you. Okay? I will, I'll help you." His hands were placed on my cheeks as his thumbs wiped under my eyes to dry the rivers that were flowing down my face.
    Darkness slowly faded in as my body seemed to shut down. Searing pain in my gut as I kept looking at his face, my only thought being him.
    "I'll help you." He muttered again as I felt my body being lifted from the floor and into his arms as he carried me away from the shadow that will haunt me further in my life, until I reach my death bed. Fear taking over my body as black light consumed me.

    Fear.
    The saying goes, after all, "Fear can keep us up all night, but faith makes one fine pillow."
    Faith fails, though, so we sit there in our beds pondering what happiness is.
    Fear.
    It has its ways of tearing you down, puncturing your skin and bleeding your flaws out, leaving you empty and hollow, oblivious to life and friendly with death. It reminds you of past differences and lonely sameness. I mean, it is fear. Its goal is to break us down, horrify us through the night. You see, fear is like a dark shadow. It follows you around, hides in the corner and waits for the right moment to pounce and rip you apart from the inside out. It can never admit itself to us without losing its own miserable powerfulness. Can never really poison us from our own selves.
   
    Now, faith, is an interesting subject, isn't it? The opposite of fear, in some ways. They say being brave is, but you cannot really be brave until you have faith otherwise the fearfulness will take over your well-being. Unfortunately we already established this. Now... an overwhelming sense of emotion can be dangerous, as it is obvious to everyone.