The End of a Broken Rainbow (Short Story)

Let's Start at the End

From the moment I saw him, I knew that I was losing the battle. I had to cling on to him and hold him back to keep him from the grasp of my cohort. But he was trying so desperately hard to squirm away from my arms. To jump into a commitment that was he was not prepared for. It was a game of tug-o-war, and I was losing. I held my grip as strong as I could until eventually, he surrendered to me. I had kept him with me for awhile longer. Or, at least, that's what I thought.

People know me well. Yet, people don't always realize that I am around. Sometimes they forget to cherish what they have: me. I am a jealous sentient. I desire to hold as many as I can. Death, however, is strong. It often rips souls out of my capable arms. I don't have time for everyone. Sometimes, I let people go willingly. Younger ones, older ones. If I see them a burden, I drop them into the greedy hands of Death. Good riddance. I have enough to deal with and protect. People need to be more thankful of what they have.

Like the boy's father. Unaware of what he had. Oblivious to his greatest blessing: his son. He had plenty of priorities, yet his son was at the bottom of the list. Unimportant. A simple tool to be used in an effort for self-upbringing, and his son knew it. The boy was aware of the insignificance that came along with his existence that he began to question himself, he just seemed to stop caring altogether. I couldn't hold him for much longer.

I watched the boy attempt to do what his father wanted. The boy went everywhere he was told. He did what he was ordered. However, nothing seemed to make his father see him. The boy was left to fend for himself. Alone, afraid, and cold. It was sad, really, how little he seemed to care. Like the emotion was slowly draining from him. His world was fading from colors into black and white and there wasn't much I seemed to be able to do about it. Others have tried, of course. They've made attempt after attempt to reach him. To pop the bubble that he had shrouded himself in. He had friends. People who cared about him, who would try to do everything they could to get him back to the way he used to be. Back to the way he was. He was so lost into the trance of depression, too lost to be brought back.

The boy had everything, physically. A house, food, clothing, even new electronics and things that weren't necessary. Half of his needs were there, but the other half-- the most important half-- was nowhere to be found. He would've rather had a family that loved him. No one understands how important that is until you don't have it.

The boy also found a slight substitute for his unloving parents. A girl who he could look up to. A girl who made him feel loved. A girl and her friends. A girl who he started to call 'mom'. This girl was a year older than him and she came with an array of new friends that he also felt a strong connection with. The seven took him in and tried to help him in any way they could. The thing was, for the first time the help was working. He seemed to be feeling better. Normal, almost. Happy memories began to build up inside him until he had started to smile more. To laugh more. His emotions were a hurricane, and this was the eye. However, everyone knows that the eye of the storm must pass eventually.

He started caring again. I began to matter to him. People started to notice him. The boy finally felt like he belonged. He had people who loved him, people who cared about him and wanted him around. To him, it was truly a whole new world. Meaning I could relax for a bit. Loosen my grip, per se. I trusted him not to run too far away from me. He always stayed where I could see him. He stayed with the girl. They seemed to be holding him together.

People sometimes seem to say that nothing can replace family. That's a lie. Anything can replace family if you love it more than forced blood-ties. He could choose who he loved, and the love was reflected right back. He didn't give up his soul for this love, no. For once, the love was given to the soul. The relationship required little to no effort-- towards the beginning. Eventually, the parents caught on. They saw that their son was talking to a group of older people. The reacted in a fit of panic. For some reason, they thought that these seven would break him, leave him more broken than he already was. His father had banned him from seeing the seven. He thought they were going to destroy his son. Never once did it cross his mind that he had made the greatest mistake of his life.

I was forced to race to the boy's side and cling on to him. He was stronger this time too. It was easier for him to keep breaking my grip. Over and over again. Some of the other souls I'd loosened my hold on began to drift away. I was torn. Do I let go or hold on? He wanted the latter. His life was so light in my hands. So frail, gentle. I could feel the little dreams falling away from it like snow. I was losing him and he seemed to know it. He was ready. But I wasn't. No one seemed to be ready. The seven knew, of course. They could see him fading too. I gave it one last try and pushed his soul towards theirs. They seemed to bump up against each other. Like a strange hug. Then I opened my palms and watched him float away. Most times, I refuse to drop the souls I notice, the souls I want. But I realized that with this boy, I couldn't keep him. He was too far gone. Too far out to pull back. And me, as a selfish sentient, was forced to let him be. And he was happy. I could feel it flowing off of him in waves. I couldn't understand his happiness. To leave me. I gave him a sendoff and slunk back to the rest.

I suppose some people just can't be helped.