In Our Minds

{S} Dare Greatly <F>

"Do you accept it, Elizabeth Kana Laeli?" She shifted on the ground where she kneeled and she looked up, her light grey eyes contrasting her dark skin. The man who stood in front of her was clothed with robes and scarves which held markings, she could not begin to understand. His eyes momentarily widened in surprise, her eyes seemed to look like it was silver for a flash of a moment before it was gone. Elizabeth spoke for the first time reciting the words she had been taught since she was able to speak. "I, Elizabeth Kana Laeli, accept," she paused for a moment as a reassuring warm feeling bloomed outward from her chest, offering her comfort. "The world," her words no more than a mere whisper. 

Winds picked up around Elizabeth, thrashing violently, tossing her hair about as her eyes began to glow while on a fixated point of space in front of her as she stood. Opening her mouth, she began to speak, her voice layered upon others. "It is not the critic who counts;" her eye color changed rapidly as she saw images. A man sitting at a wooden desk in an area that was only lit by a candle. He scribbled on a piece of parchment paper, a crease in his forehead as he sets down his utensil and picks up a piece of carved wood next to him and shifts around beads which is on the rods of wood. He was counting, adding numbers, then went back to scratch some more marks on the parchment and did it over again.

"Nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbles," the scene shifted, like a shutter closing over the previous image. Next was a boy walking off the school bus. He seemed to be ten. As he got off the bus, he began walking down the sidewalk as the sidewalk briskly as three, bigger and older boys came up behind him, laughing and pointing at the boy as he frowned. Tripping on an uneven block of cement in the ground, the older boys grinned and laughed at his pain. Elizabeth could not cry out or react, to reach for the boy and help him, to help ease his pain.

"Or how the doer of deeds could've done better." Again, a click like a shutter and the boy was gone. An adult woman smiled as she looked at a crowd of people and spoke, a series of flashes were aimed towards the woman as she spoke. There was an era of excitement around her. Then she spots a man in the crowd. She recognizes him and he has a microphone. It's her father, a disappointed look was etched on his face as he got her attention. He asked a question, and the excitement was sucked out of her. Elizabeth in that moment understood everything.

"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;" This time it was a man with dark skin. He was working out in fields and he cur grain with a scythe. She saw the rest of the feild that had been cut and it was I acres. She knew. He had done the feilds by himself. It was a punishment by his master, working alone. But the only reason he continued on working was for the woman he loved and his child. He was drenched and sweat, exhausted, and dehydrated but one thought kept him going. He needed to finish the field so he could see them again.

"Who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;" A teenage boy stood in front of a mirror and he stared at his hands, bloodied torn and bruised. He screamed at himself and he began to throw and toss about all the things in the banging his hands again and again on the marble countertop. Yes, he hurt people, beat up those who were inferior to him again and again, but if he stopped they would take him in his moment of weakness and swallow him whole. He didn't want to, but he had to hurt others for the sake of his own wellbeing.

"But who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions;" A woman was on one knee in a stone castle. Many people were gathered around in the room in a hushed silence as they watched in awe. Her blonde hair was braided over one shoulder which rested upon armor. A king stood before her, his deep red robes swirling around him as he lifted a sword and slowly moved to lightly rest the sword on both of her shoulders. She stood and group of people, her family, clapped and cheered, proud of her for she had become the first knighted woman in the land. Despite the rest of the crowd unknowing as to what to do with themselves, she was happy and her family was proud of her.

"Who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly," explosions were everywhere. Shouting, bombs, gun fire, blood, pain, death. War. It was everywhere from in the air to the bodies which slowly fell limp. A man, a sergeant, barked orders, but one man didn't listen. There was only one way out of the situation they were losing. The sergeant's best friend jumped out from behind the wall and ran. He ran quickly grasping something to his chest and got close to enemy lines before collapsing. When he hit the ground, there was an explosion. In his arms was a bomb. That battle was won because of the one man who disobeyed orders.

"So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." The memorial. The last image that flashed before her eyes was the World Trade Center in New York City. The names flashed before her eyes. Every person who died. She saw and understood everything. 

Everything was still. Silent. Elizabeth had the whole world on her shoulders. She felt everything and nothing at the same time. She new everything that was created and destroyed, felt every single emotion possible at the same time. Her cold set eyes now looked at the cathedral where she stood, she was now once again aware of the man who stood in front of her, Michael. He was to be her mentor. Elizabeth looked upon him with knowing eyes, and Michael looked worried and slightly scared. Her focus already had shifted and she was looking about the room, seeing everything different than before. Her chest felt empty and cold now instead of what she felt before. 

"Are you well Miss Laeli?" Her eyes flicked upon him taking him apart piece by piece. "What do you think Michael?" She spoke over enunciating her words. "You may not be feeling very well but-"

"I don't feel anything."

"What?"

"All the emotions I felt. I felt everything. But they cancel each other out. I feel nothing."

"I still do not-"

Elizabeth touched Micheal and he instantly felt anguish. "That is what I should be feeling, but I am not. I feel nothing." For just a moment, Michael could not feel anything but Elizabeth quickly let go. He stared at her in shock for a moment. "You will need a balance," he told her. She looked at him. "Elaborate please."

"You will need someone who keeps you from doing things morally wrong."

"There is no morally right or wrong, there is only right and wr-"

"That is exactly what I mean. You need to stop that. You need to have limits despite your condition. Someone needs to keep you from-" 

"I do not need anyone. I know all there is to know,  there is no one who is in better conditions to take care of myself than me."

"But you just showed me you cannot feel. You don't know how to feel. In taking on the world," Micheal paused and looked at Elizabeth with sorrowful eyes before continuing. 

"You have lost yourself."