vika_lol
Have you ever felt trapped behind glass? Like an exhibit in a museum of your own life, your brightest wings pinned to a photograph of your past.
He was trapped. Like a butterfly in a jar, its desperate fluttering against the walls only amusing the one holding the lid. He was shattered, like crystal on a plate, and someone else's fork mercilessly pinned him in place, depriving him of any chance of escape. His world narrowed to a dark room, the floor littered with broken mirrors and withered wings, torn by hope.
But even in the deepest darkness, a tiny light can be born. A single ray, like the ringing of a phone with a bunny charm or the reflection of an emerald stone in a tie. And he walked towards it. Step by step, breaking the invisible red threads that held him captive.
Behind the next door, a world turned inside out awaited him. Bright, absurd, noisy. Here, sweets lay on the floor next to surgical scalpels, school notebooks peacefully coexisted with an elegant hat and a bottle of expensive wine. A white stuffed tiger and cow slept in the corner, and a long black coat, smelling of rain and mystery, hung on a coat rack. A katana, sharpened to a razor's edge, was there. And scattered everywhere were pages from the "ideals" notebook. Chaos, but with its own strange harmony.
And the further he walked, the easier it became to breathe. Threads broke, the glass beneath his feet turned to petals, and dried butterflies on the walls came to life, rustling their wings in dust and light. He no longer walked-he ran. Toward the blinding radiance at the end of the path. Toward the door behind which voices resounded. Voices calling his name. Voices that had become familiar.
This is a story of escape. Not from a prison with bars, but from oneself-from the captivity of pain, loneliness, and someone else's will. A journey from a broken plate to the warm light of home, from a dried-up insect in a collection to a person who has finally found wings to fly to where they are loved.