Chapter 1: Bourbon glass, take me back
POV: Niklaus Mikaelson
Time: 20th century (Autumn 1901)
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Mythology.
It's what most people nowadays call what I once knew as everyday life.
In one moment, the world is as it is.
The next, it is something different. Something that has never been before.
Perhaps, life is a cycle doomed to repeat. The wheel of doom, which the world never seems to notice its similar imprints on humanity's past. A wheel of doom that gives and gives, but also takes and takes until everything becomes a wasteland of long since forgotten ideals, which are blessings, but also curses that once again repeat.
This repetition, a blessing as it is for people like me (although, there aren't any quite like myself), has also become the biggest curse of my life, and that's saying a lot. The printings of the wheels of the past seem to leave the frequent holes that seem impossible to fill.
Nobody knows why it isn't universally acknowledged that looking back is a terrible idea. I never knew that looking back on the laughs would make me hurt this much. Things I should've already forgotten, but never could.
Looking back, I see a chest of memories; good and bad (mostly bad). Hadn't thought that I'd have to carry them, as they were no less treasury. Though I found out that all I can do would be to only carry a few. My luck shows itself as the bad memories seem to stick to the insides of the chest like some viscous piece of fluid that reminds me of my own stubbornness.
And of hers.
Let me tell you a secret. A secret, rather a lesson, that she taught me. Something they don't teach you in temples or in churches.
The gods envy us. Or rather, you. They envy humans because they're mortals, because any moment may be your last (my species and I being a large factor for that). Everything is more beautiful because you're doomed. You will never be where you are now and that's a beauty in its own.
Although I know that today is difficult to see beyond the sorrow (fact: the alcohol, which she never liked), looking back isn't comforting me like I'd wished it to, and as it usually does. In normal circumstances the sea-green eyes, although with a twinge of pain, would've given me overbearing comfort. Comfort of a time when I'd been unconditionally loved, with no doubts. Comfort given at a time in my life when I needed it the most.
Pain of the reminder that she isn't here anymore, and she never will be.
Cheers!
Cheers to the fact that it's been 900 years she's been dead and I haven't been human since. Cheers to the fact none of us will see her again.
The alcohol spills over as I push the glass from the counter to break.
She never liked alcohol, anyway.
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Just keep in mind that my first language isn't English :)
Also, every chapter in the future will have about 500 words more than the last.
Example: this one has 500, the next one will have 1000, then 1500 and so on.
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DISCLAIMER:
I OWN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
YOU ARE READING
Drowning • Niklaus Mikealson
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