Click Click Click Click
Red eyes stare into yours as you listen to the sound coming from the machine. His nose is almost pressed to the glass he’s in while his large smile comes of as threatening rather than cheerful.
Ding!
You pull out the paper from the opening of the box, only to realize that it is longer that you expected. Maybe the employees decided to try something new. Maybe not. You turn it and find this:
Here stands a person whose heart has been carved out by the very person they loved
Whose eyes are cold and misty, even though they can see
And whose body moves not by the will of the owner, but by a puppeteer
Whose job is to make the body live, but not to become alive
You crumple the paper and throw it. What a waste of time.
You continue walking. Why? You don’t know, but you’ve been doing it ever since you came here.
That is, if you know where here even is.
The merry-go-rounds, candy floss and rides around you slowly fade away and are replaced with overarching trees that barely let sunlight reach the ground, and the small orchestra of crickets that continue to play their dysfunctional tune.
You spot a merchant standing in his stall, looking at his surroundings lazily as he adjusts his turban and scratches his goatee. Once he spots you, he beckons you to come closer, even though you empty your pockets, showing that you have no money on you.
You ask him what he’s selling and he says:
“Anything that falls from the sky. Yesterday it was bags of pencils, today it’s honey.”
You then ask him why he placed his stall in the woods, as both of you can see that nobody lives there. He replies:
“Honestly, I’ve always wanted to do things myself after spending years with my brothers and my parents. So one day I just decided, ‘Hey, I’m going to set a shop in the woods, because why not? After all, no one will judge me since no one lives there!’”
He laughs as he finishes his sentence and you can’t help but smile at the middle-aged man’s philosophy. You wave him goodbye as you continue your walk.
You try counting the trees in the forest as you go on, but you reach 284 when you see a crow.
Not just one, but a murder of them.
They all settle on the branches close to the ground, ruffling their feathers and using their beaks to straighten them. Nothing seeming out of place. You try to convince yourself that you’re not in danger (after all, this IS the woods after all) but when you look up again, you take in a sharp breath as you see that all the crows are looking at you.
The small pieces of the sky that managed to peek through the forest’s canopy become dark as the night. The crickets have stopped making their noises and all you hear is the slow, cold, movement of the wind. You dare not move as the crows turn their head simultaneously when they see as much as a twitch and their black, coal eyes compel you to stay still.
Then, you hear it.
The sound of a bow making a screeching sound on a violin.
At first, you hear it behind you, then to your right, then in front of you. You cover your ears with your hands and close your eyes tightly as the sound swells more and more, creating nothing but discord in your brain. And you realize:
The crows are making that sound.
And true enough, when you look up, you see the crows not only playing that sound from their beaks, but now they are flying towards you.
Before your legs begin to go numb, you run. You run and you run with a quick inhale and a painful exhale, with your heart beating fast and with tears in your eyes. The crows are still following you, but instead hearing that abomination of a sound, you hear people.
Even worse, you can recognize the voices.
You couldn’t decipher what they were saying, but you didn’t stop running due to the fear of the crows. But even the crows didn’t stop you from hearing those voices, those voices you told yourself you would never remember but were gradually getting louder the longer you ran. They were getting clearer and clearer, to the point you could pick out a few words until suddenly,
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
You rub your eyes, thinking they’re closed, only to find that they are indeed open and wherever you are is just…nothing.
But this nothing wasn’t comforting, not at all. It was harsh, freezing and made you short of breath. You lightly hold onto your neck, your fight and flight mode going haywire and your eyes almost popping out of their sockets. The word to describe it?
Intoxicating.
You feel high, maybe even drunk, as your glands were releasing different hormones by the second, making your brain determining what to do next and making you feel dizzy. You feel like Icarus; adrenalin rushing through your veins at the speed of a fighter jet as you feel something you have never experienced before.
But just like him, this rush stops and all you can do is plummet to whatever is beneath you, whether it be an ocean or a floor.
You open your eyes as you find yourself laying on a cold surface which you cannot identify. You look around to find yourself in the same god-forsaken place you were before you passed out. But instead of getting up and surveying the place, you lie down on your back and stare into the vast nothingness.
You begin to feel self-conscious, feeling like a small speck in a great universe; insignificant, weak, hopeless. Feelings you’ve gone through so many times, that it doesn’t surprise you. Along with those feelings come anger, disgust and hatred, emotions you were told you should never have, but emotions that are human nonetheless. And finally, the guest of honour:
Hollowness.
She comes again, dressed in the finest clothes of despair and numbness, greeting you with word of self-doubt and flowing over you like a river over a stone. You would’ve normally tried to brush it aside, but for once, you let it happen. And as it happened, you could feel the small drops of tears coming from the corner your eyes, making your vision blurred and your heart heavy.
And you cried.
You cried because of reality, you cried because of your pain, and you cried because you knew this was going to happen again and again and again.
It was a circle you didn’t know how to break, but one you wish you could.
You covered your eyes with your arms as the tears kept falling and the sobs kept coming. But then, you heard a voice.
And the voice said, “I love you; as you are love in its purest form; unhindered, innocent and with imperfections. Imperfections that only accentuate your beauty, not diminishing it, making me do nothing but adore you. I love you, as you are a being whose existence brings nothing but joy and happiness to others, things that are rare to find these days. I love you, because I have and always will, from the moment stardust collected to form you, to when your ashes become the earth. And I love you, because the angels smile when you smile, weep when you do, and hold you in their embrace, hoping that you know you are loved by Heaven itself. You are nothing short of a masterpiece, a masterpiece that I will hold dear to my heart to the end of days.”
The space above you begins to become brighter and brighter, and your body begins to feel warm. You still feel the tears fall down your face, but your heart seems to be light, in fact, it feels like it’s singing. You look up above you and chuckle.
And as the light engulfs you, you can’t help but think:
So this is what love is? Who knew it felt this good.
