Before a Once Upon A Time

A Single Lamp - Sad, Sad Sanity

Story 2 - A single Lamp

Part 7 - Sad, Sad Sanity

The magic lamp was why the lamp merchant knew of course - he had been the one to sell it to her. He had seen in her eyes the hungriness he saw in the eyes of street children and those who feel their life has been unfulfilled - there were many of those he had come across in his travels and he had learned how to pinpoint them. Most of them had no idea they were not happy- they just weren't. It showed in their faces, even if they were lineless, even if they were smiling, laughing, joking. They just weren't happy. And she wasn't.

She knew she wasn’t happy though, which set her a little apart from the others. Yet, she was still as naive as the others because she continued to believe that if she bought enough trinkets they would fulfill her. She felt that ever time she bought an object that this would be it, the last one she needed, that she would feel true happiness now- but it never came. She was never satisfied.

Gene looked at her uncertainly, his brain still trying to warn him of something, though what he didn’t know. His eyes drifted, like they wanted to close but couldn't quite remember how. He slowly, slowly, nodded in agreement. That was all the ascent to her awful plan that she needed. She smiled wickedly and pulled the lamp from her dress with a flourish. No, we are not going to go into where she pulled it out of because that is not a pleasant topic for me, I am sorry. Moving on. End of discussion. No I'm not going to tell you. We are moving on now. Yup. Gone. Done. No more conversation.

The Good fairy took Gene's hand and smiling, cut it open with a knife again pulled from the magical mystery place that is not to be discussed. The blood dripped between his fingers and he tried to pull back his hand in a sudden bought of self preservation instinct that came straight from the primitive ancestors he so disdained. It was no use. The good fairy's grip was like iron, holding his hand in place.

His mind and awareness began to sneak glances at each other again, quickly trying to hook up again. He was in danger and he didn't have his wits about him. How had this happened? It was madness. How had his guard been so lowered that he could be manipulated like that? Somewhere deep within him, the answer lingered. He couldn't accept it consciously but it still stayed there in the back of his mind, because his subconscious knew the knowledge would destroy his conscious mind.  The truth was that if he hadn't viewed his opponent as lower and lesser than himself, then she wouldn't have so easily have overwhelmed him and he might not be about to face whatever evil fate was left for him now.

She forced the blood from his hand into the spout of lamp. He swore he could feel it as it dripped down the curving metal as though it were a living extension of himself. And, maybe, it was, for a few seconds later, he was trapped in the lamp. He banged on the walls, a long buried fear of being trapped rearing it's head from his childhood. He tried desperately to escape for awhile, a desperate magic clinging to him, trying to suppress him. If he kept this up, he was going to hurt the spell placed on the lamp. The spell’s self - defensive aspect kicked in, and it began to calm him down, altering his mind bit by bit until he was calm.

It took a moment afterward for the bad chemicals in his brain that had been there his whole life to completely burn out of his brain. He paused in his attack. What? Was he back? Was this him? Had he finally become aware again? No. When he accepted that this part of him was going to die, he had never wanted to wake up. Why was he awake? He stared at his hands like they had the answer.

He only received a moment of this before memories of all the wrongs he had committed rushed to him, causing his face to instantly flush and tears to run down his face. He pushed his hands to his face in an attempt to stop them but the tears only came harder, rolling through his fingers without his permission. It hurt so much. Why shouldn't he let himself feel it? He let his hands drop helplessly. He cried like a young child, without doing anything to stop the tears, just letting them fall and run down his face. This was so unfair. Why did such a pure heart have to reside hidden in a body that had done so many wrongs? The tears flowed until, like a child, he was exhausted, his face puffed and his body unable to dole out any more fluids for the purpose of crying. He fell into a long, deep sleep, far away from the reach of the rest of humanity.

His sanity had been restored from the lamp's protective spell, rewiring him into submission, taking away all the hormones imbalances from his brain, the chemical overdoses and deficiencies that had made him crazy. He knew this fact with the same certainty that he knew that as long as he lived in this lamp he would be himself. That meant that he could never leave the cursed lamp if he wanted to be himself. He would never have his wishes granted by of this lamp. This lamp would be his doom and downfall. Would he ever again be able to live normally, even if he managed to be freed from the evil thing? He somehow doubted it. And it was that depressing thought that led him into sleep.