Weak

Preface

The owner of victory stands with only an ounce of blood trickling down the blueprint of his face. Along with the respect he's earned, his pride still clings to him. The wind blows away the hair that masks his eyes and the story seen in them. The emotion and guilt form tears that are held back by the dark clouds of hatred. In his mind, confusion has gone wild. Believing that he had to do what he'd just done, he walks away, leaving his victim, to begin a better life-- for only awhile.

He runs through the wilderness, thunder chasing him. His pants are soaked and with every puddle in which he steps, his torn Converse get as weak as his soul.

As he approaches his neighborhood, he stops by the old oak tree he used to play under as a child. Gasping for air, the tears you could not see weather away the barriers and form a family of rivers. It doesn't seem to bother him though-- no one suspects anything anyway. No one can ever know you are crying when you cry in the rain.

At a slow pace, he begins to walk home. Thinking of his most recent action, he freezes. His body seems nearly dysfunctional. Surprisingly, the image in his head was of a genie. He wanted three wishes. Wish number one would be to go back and not do what he had just done. The second wish is to make cruelty disappear. The last wish would be for the death of himself.

In order to proceed, he must battle himself internally. He must fight to make his brain escape from hibernation. His brain must alert his nerves to get him away from this place. The shaking of it from its resting place turns into shivering from the frost bite tied to the raindrops. The cold seems to paralyze him even more. His brain begins to shut down, his arms, legs, heart, one-by-one, but finally the tunnel reveals a bright light and he's free. Running down the street, his house is in sight, but so far away--gradually further and further from where he is now.