Off-Clock Musings

On the Present Fantasy

Start.

The sky is made up of two colors: baby blue and white as the yellow is hidden in between the plenty of white clouds. Evergreen shrubs and other plants fill the green field, the grass growing long. The mostly green vegetation lacks withered sod due to the constant crying sky. The heavens love to touch the Zoysia to enrich their color. There are willow trees in the far distance, no paths available to the Tower that leads to the sleeping Dragon and Fairy.

The Tower stands seventy-seven feet high, its tubular shape allowing it to look thin and sleek. Behind each burgundy brick that rests rigidly next to, on top of, and beneath another represents two tears, each from one eye. Its builder built the tower in tears and in hopes he would escape the ground—hell—and reach God just for his beloved Fairy. He died once the staircase reached seventy-seven feet, leaving his younger cousin, Fairy, inside of it. Dragon, Red and black, guards the Tower while the benevolent Fairy rests inside. Fairy, White and golden, is to go and come as she pleases unless she feels the temperature around her increase, signaling a breath of fire is being blown out by Dragon. At this point, she uses Pixie Dust to sway her wings faster and reach the highest floor to protect herself and allow Dragon to defend her on the ground right outside the Tower. In the event she is out of Pixie Dust, Dragon himself flies her up there before meeting with his opponent to protect her, usually from a demon in disguise.

While I'm not exactly an angel, I'm not the devil either. I do have flaws, but certain people who are close to me don't exactly see none but Lucifer himself in me. You'd be extremely shocked in who these people are to me. For these people, every good that I've done for them occurs in a snap of a finger; once it leaves their working memory, it is not stored in their long-term memory. On the other hand, when the darkness in me appears here and there, they somehow easily transfer the information from their working memory to their long-term memory without a second thought; the memory simply stores itself into their hippocampus naturally. There are plenty of people who are like this, but there's a fine line between those who are like this from time to time and those who are like this all the time. I deal with the latter, and God be with me.

As one who's interested in psychology and philosophy, I thoroughly understand and believe no one is born all good, nor all bad but rather neutral. Imagine the good-old devil and angel on your shoulders in which each pushes you to do the bad or good thing, and you, out of free-will, make the choice. The devil seduces you into disobeying your parents, meanwhile the angel pats your shoulder and reminds you God said to honor thy father and thy mother. Using your past experiences with punishment, your perceptions of right and wrong, and your cognitive abilities to reason which is the most appropriate way to deal with one's parents, you make the choice you deem best at the time, either giving leeway to the Red being or obeying the White one. We've all been there, and there's no shame in it. It's only a shame to give in to Red if one does it regularly, but what if one doesn't? What if you're very close friends with White and just occasionally listen to Red? May the Lord be with you, I say, as you will not hear the end of it from a few particular people. You'll make a simple mistake, only to be reminded of it at times you truly do not want to be reminded about it. These people will bring it up at the most inappropriate times to ensure your shame remains fresh like blood dripping out a wound. They will never forgive you, and you will be treated to the like of trash bins in New York City's alleys. Most times, you will be Cinderella, always in rags to clean, cook, and perfect the environment for the same people who will shame you later on. Or perhaps you'll be Fairy, breathing in air from up high, minding your own business, only to have someone suddenly attack you when you least expect it, and not being able to defend yourself because Fairy is White, and White doesn't fight. Indeed, a fool you are, but the human heart is too weak to hate all the time; it is a heart after all.

Now there's worse people, and there's worse circumstances one may encounter. I've encountered both, some people looking at my every move each time I snap at the constant, unnecessary shames. One can't bite and not expect to be bitten back—this is something most people seem to not understand, for dragons awaken when they are poked. We've all done this too, provoking our siblings and friends—teachers seem to get it worst from children in today's society—to see Red's response so that we can use it against them one day. Humans are like that; we aren't all bad, nor all good. We aren't black and white only; most of us are gray or, in other words, in between like a scale or a spectrum. And there are particular people who just love waking up Dragon and then stand there shocked and confused when I breathe out fire. You see, these people are usually shocked in the moment, but they're the same type of people to use this set of fire against me while White is embodying me, Fairy. I tend to sit on the edge of the window on the seventy-seventh floor in peace, thank you Gabriel or whomever it may be when Fairy awakens during these beautiful times, enjoying the silence when said person breaks down the Tower. It is too late for Dragon to save her; he is sleeping in today. Usually, the sky is bright and birds chirping, the ground filled with chlorophyll, but when Dragon is poked, hell breaks loose, quite literally. Dragon is black, but he is also Red now. 

But suddenly, Giant, bigger than Dragon and the Tower, throws his huge spit at the Tower, causing Fairy to fall out of it as the Tower tumbles down to the ground. Dragon awakens in anger, growing malevolent as ever, and breathing out fire at Giant. This has been happening a lot lately, and Dragon is starting to feel much resentment towards Giant; there is only so much he can handle from that pathetic big man and his sister. In fact, Dragon has been angry at himself lately for not protecting Fairy properly, so much so that he has been screaming uncontrollably from the top of his lungs, releasing fire in every direction possible, burning his green surroundings into dry, yellow wilts. Just why can't I keep my guard up?

While Dragon deals with Giant and throws flames at his surroundings in anger, Fairy cries at the bottom of the Tower. She struggles to find her way out of the demolished Tower, but she eventually stands up on her feet. When she does, her wings lay low in despair and pain; she cannot fly as fast now. Only Pixie Dust will heal her, but there is no way she will find it amongst the remaining remnants. Everything is tarnished and broken, especially now that Dragon does not realize he is doing more harm than good as he breathes out fire in wrath, killing the flowers and butterflies.

Fairy grabs bricks in hand and lays them on top of each other, gradually finding the strength to fly up and lay more bricks on top of each other to rebuild the tower. As she does this, she sheds two tears for every brick she places, one tear from each eye. Eventually, her cousin starts to cry from up top, setting water on fire and allowing regrowth to occur on all fronts.

Things have been abysmal for me the past month and a half. I am Dragon and Fairy, but sometimes I'm even Giant and his sister, too, leading myself into a cycle of self-destruction.

End.