The Broken Man

Locked away in the Castle of Fate, laid a man who had forgotten every dream and desire he once believed in. The desire to be more than who he was made to be left the day the solid metal door to his chambers was shut forever. With a click of sturdy metal bars locking into place, his life was sealed, and his future was no more.

The castle of Fate was unforgiving, and as the years passed, the man became a stone of solace and pain. No one came to set him free.

No one came at all.

With no hope for his freedom, the man's will began to shatter. Every passing day left another crack, and every reminiscing thought of what could have been broke him to the core, until all that laid in that rotten old bed by the wall was a broken man.

It had been ten years since the Lady of the Past put him there. There was no force. No sedation. No coercion. In fact, the man entered the castle by his own will, and he locked himself in the tower by his own hands. However, the broken man was unaware of this fact, himself.

"Please let me go!" the man screamed into the air to no audience as he banged on the solid metal door. The echo of useless attempts rang back at him with a taunting restlessness. He laid his head on the door after attempt number four as he was too tired to continue. He cursed the Lady of the Past for the trick he believed she played on him, and his long, gray hair fell over his face enough to hide the shame he felt while he wept.

"Why?" he sobbed one last time before he gave up and sat in silence with only his desperation to fill the empty room, until he fell asleep.

The Lady of the Past watched the broken man every night as the moon gleamed down on the tower. Her gown of every color flowed with the autumn wind as she stood outside of the castle and observed his perseverance in awe.

She wondered if he would ever know it was by his own hand that he was trapped. But yet, she also wondered if he would ever cease to try for help. If he knew he could leave, she thought, would he actually?

Dawn rose the next day warmer than all the others had, and an uncanny thought had persuaded the Lady of the Past to visit the broken man.

With her intentions pure, she climbed the stairs of the tower and knocked with a delicate hand onto the cold metal door.

The sound of something familiar had startled the broken man from his sleep.

Is someone knocking on my door? the man questioned with utter bewilderment. He sat up as fast as he could, baffled yet relieved by the idea that someone had finally come for him.

"W-who is it?" he stammered to the door as he walked closer.

"It is I," the Lady of the Past said with a soft voice. "Do you remember me?"

The man froze in his place. Memories flooded his mind like a picture show as they ceased to stop. The helplessness of his own accord returned worse than before from the sound of such a familiar voice.

"It's you!" He shouted with the utmost distaste. "Why have you come here? To taunt me with your success? To make sure I suffer more than I am already forced to? Leave me alone! This is all your fault!"

"Please," she begged, "I only mean to talk."

"Talk about what? The cell you locked me away in? The pain and suffering you brought me? No! I do not wish to speak to you."

"Oh, if only you understood!" She pleaded back.

"What is there to understand? I already know what you have done. Leave me to suffer if you're not going to set me free!"

"Will you please listen! I have so much I would like to tell you!"

"No! I refuse to hear someone who has nothing to say."

"Fine," she sighed. "If that is how you feel, then I will be on my way. I wish you a good day."

"Good day? How could you say such a thing knowing your presence had caused me so much pain?"

"It is not my fault you never opened the door. Do not blame me for the time you wasted when you could've just turned the handle and been on your way."

"W-what?" He stammered. "What handle? There is no—" he glanced down to see a panel bent back from the door at just the right height a handle would be. Although sturdy, the panel was a partial cover for a small lateral handle, and if it was pushed down, the door would be opened. "How could this be? I tried for years! This was never here!"

"It has always been there. You put it there. Don't you remember?" The Lady of the Past asked.

"Impossible! Are you saying I trapped myself in here all these years? That I could've left the minute I arrived?"

"That is exactly what I was trying to say, actually," she stated.

"No," he glared at the handle and shook his head violently. "This is all a trick! You just want to see me suffer more!" He cursed her name as he refused to touch the handle. He believed she had wished to cause more harm, and that it would be against her very nature to set him free, so he ran from the door, refusing to fall for such an easy rouse. "Go away!" He shouted again. "Leave me to my sorrow."

The Lady of the Past sighed. She left the tower with sadness in her eyes as she hoped the broken man would set himself free. But alas, her question was answered and her thought returned.

"I guess not," she whispered, and she left the Castle of Fate, leaving the broken man to the tower he built himself, and the door he knew would never open.