The Cactus Stands Alone

Chapter 7

To describe such excruciating discomfort would do an injustice to the pain receptors each of us carries. The hedgehog, with its tiny paws overshadowed by the quills that prevent anyone from getting close to its hide, attempted to maneuver through my own maze of torture.

Nothing close to a hug happened.

Instead, its points of torture meshed with my own, causing a tangle of random poking. This would be acceptable in such games as tickle wars, which can be waged among those with sensitive enough skin to find the feeling hilarious, but not with us. It was the stabbing by a thousand blades, each one more painful than the next.

However, there was but a moment when the hedgehog found its paws to my surface and with the slightest touch, I experienced a new sensation. It was the touch of another cradled in warmth and it immediately calmed the anger I felt welling up inside. The red hot sun of anger that would constantly rise up in me was suddenly quenched by the comforting compassion of another.

Although the attempt at a hug broke away, I wanted to lean into it and give it another opportunity. After all this life-shattering revelation, why was I suddenly denied the opportunity to make it feel better? As grotesque as a request the hedgehog made, I understood why a hug was such a priority.

"That didn't work," the hedgehog said, rubbing the exposed parts of its belly punctured by my own spikes.

"Shall we try it again?" I blurted out.

The question was made in haste and I wanted to cover my mouth at the exposure of my unconscious mind. For the first time, the hedgehog grinned.

"Well, well. Looks like somebody else really wants a hug, too."

I turned away, staring up into the sky.

"Nothing to be ashamed about," the hedgehog continued. "There are plenty of us who secretly want one, but just can't get one. None of the others will even try and if we did ask, they would just laugh at the lot of us."

"None of the cacti have ever suggested wanting a hug," I defended.

"That's because none of you talk to each other," the hedgehog shot back. "It's okay to admit it. Maybe if you actually got a hug, you wouldn't be on the warpath."

The hedgehog gave a stark reminder of the agreement we had in place.

"You will still honour your side of the agreement?" I asked.

This time, the hedgehog turned around and faced the great expanse that lay ahead. Endless green ground, surrounded by the most exquisite and terrifying plants and trees.

"A promise is a promise," it replied. "Follow me. I'll move slowly while you get your footing, but then we'll pick it up."

Each step felt like a walk towards freedom as the hedgehog led the way through this new terrain. The solid ground beneath my roots and smell of air that didn't hang with the arid dryness felt as though there were new horizons to be conquered in appreciation.

I was walking towards the destiny only I could fulfill in the unending stream of horridness this world has brought. Soon, the idea of crisis will come to an end.

All will perish under my selfish desires to be free from agony.