Epiphany

Why does it seem that all the great people that do amazing things for the world are always the most miserable? Is humanity cursed to only be able to help others if we, ourselves, are in some form of agony?

You put your cigarette out and push off of the damp wall you had been leaning against. The incessant rain had finally stopped, but the smell of wet cement fills the air burning your nose. You pull your coat tighter around you against the chill and glance at the full moon shining high above in the starless sky.

You sense you are being followed as you start down the long deserted street and stop.

“Who are you?” You call without turning around. Wet footsteps are coming closer without a trace of alarm that they had been caught tailing you. A woman’s voice answers your question.

“I am not real. I am simply a sigh on the wind that knows the deep dark thoughts that dwell within your twisted little head.”

You turn around sliding another bud between your lips to see a beautiful woman with flowing black hair and soft brown skin standing in the street. She looks very out of place in this depressing place. 

“A ghost town like this is no place for a goddess like you,” You respond ignoring everything she said. Her tinkling laughter almost warms your heart, but it has been far too long since your heart felt for something so small to change it.

“I don’t believe in goddesses, but like I said, I don’t exist, so what do I know?” her petite shoulders shrug. On her it was a sensual gesture. Your eyes glitter with interest as you pull out your lighter and lite your cigarette.

“That’s a very good question,” You muse aloud. “What do you know?” The woman comes closer until only a few feet separate you. Her caramel eyes look right into your very soul. You hold her gaze without wavering. I don’t care what she sees in my eyes. Nothing could be worse than the thoughts that constantly run through my head, torturing me endlessly.

“I know your name. I know that to those who do not know you you are a legend and to those you have actually met you are just another person they’d rather not have to deal with. I know all the good things you do for people and how they repay you with curses and words of hatred. Most importantly, I know the thoughts that keep you up night after night. No pills will cure your insomnia my friend.”

You stare at her calculating and reevaluating your opinion of the delicate looking woman before you. She looks defenseless and small, but you are getting the impression she is much more than that. You scratch your cheek with one finger before flicking your spent menthol away and blowing out a smoke ring. People that you don't know, who obviously know you, make you very edgy.

“Who are you?” You ask with a bit more caution now. You would have expected her to at least smile at your change of tone, but no expression disrupts the smoothness of her flawless face.

“You repeat yourself, Friend. It would do you well not to do that.”

“Well what do I call you then?” you ask a bit put off by her condescending tone. She raises her hand to your cheek softly without taking her eyes off yours. You feel yourself starting to drown in self-loathing at her touch but you can’t pull away.

“I think that calling me Epiphany would be appropriate,” her voice seems to ripple through your brain like water. You have the sinking feeling you are no longer in control of anything. This woman can do anything she wants, make you see or believe anything and you are powerless against her. 

Your chest clenches with sudden blind terror. You fought so hard to gain control over yourself yet this woman reduces you, unexplainably, to a petrified fool incapable of even pulling away from her damned touch.