Chaos

Chaos

You sit on top of the highest building in the city. It’s the perfect weather for you at the moment, not too cold with just the slightest breeze wafting by. The sky is unnaturally clear for this time of year, something you are extremely grateful for tonight. This is the time that it is easiest to watch the city come alive with light. 

Everywhere you look there is beautiful successions of glittering bulbs. Some forming catchy slogans, some decorations for an upcoming holiday, others are just meant to act as a guiding light to those brave enough to walk the roads so late. It is on nights like these that you find yourself wondering how the city must look like from above. You imagine a beautiful map, dictated only by the soft twinkling of lights turning on and off in the buildings around you. You imagine that the city looks similar to the night sky you gaze upon in this instance. Beautiful, yet so far away. So alluring, drawing you in, tempting you to delve deeper and deeper into its secrets, to learn the things that no one else knows. 

As you gaze out at your city you come to realize all of the events that must be taking place right now. Somewhere somebody must be taking their last breath, you wonder what circumstances they are under but are too afraid to dive into the possibilities. Somewhere in the city someone must be lost, hurting, scared. But the lights give no indication that anything under them is wrong, so you move on. Somewhere in this city someone must be having the best night of their lives, a marriage proposal, a birthday party, reuniting with an old friend, the possibilities are limitless at this point. Somewhere in this city someone is turning to a life of crime, or maybe someone is turning to a path to help others, somebody in this city could even be neglecting neither the dark or the light path; taking only the path that benefits themselves. Once again, the lights give no sign that such monstrosities are taking place here tonight. 

The city itself must be buzzing with every kind of emotion imaginable by man. Happiness, sadness, fear, strength, they are all happening at once underneath the beautiful light show. With so much hurt and happiness going on below why is it that the city seems so quiet tonight? A cold wind causes you to shiver unexpectedly. 

Somewhere in this city there must be another person on a rooftop, high above all others, staring out at the lights and trying to find the chaos amongst the beauty. But no matter how hard one might search, they will never see the chaos from above. Only the beautiful lights that the city wants you to see. After all, chaos always has a pretty face. 

Cloud

Cloud

Hopeless. That’s the word most use when describing his case. A word that he had learned to hate after all of the abuse he’s suffered. It isn’t his fault, how could it be? Anyone could be born with the fate that he has, it’s not like he asked for this to happen. Who would? As if on cue the boys right eye gives a painful stab. For a second the boy cannot see anything. He is just floating in the darkness around him, weightless, carefree. He feels the immense power that always accompanies spell casting but this is different. It always has been for Cloud. The darkness begins pulling him downward, dragging him further and further into its tempting power. With his good eye the boy can see the all too familiar portal opening up in front of him, the portal into the Darkness. He knows that if he goes through there he will turn into a monster, everyone knows that. But not everyone knows about Cloud. 

For so long he has tried to resist the temptation of limitless power beyond the portal. His master has instructed him over and over to never, ever, even consider journeying beyond. With all of his remaining will Cloud resists the tendrils that bind him. With a bright flash of light he appears once more in the real world. His breathing is heavy and his eye aches sickeningly, but he is alive. From downstairs he hears his master grinding potions, maybe one of the ones he concocts today will be Cloud’s miracle cure. Ignoring the pain in his head, Cloud makes his way downstairs. 

“That spell seemed quite extreme. Was anything different about it this time?” His master asks as he enters the main room. 

“Only that I nearly lost the fight this time.” Cloud mutters with resentment. 

His master stayed quiet for what seemed like an hour before saying, “I know it isn’t fair. But you have to understand that we are doing everything we can to help you, Cloud.” 

A glare makes its way from his good eye and the boy clenches his fists.

“Everything you can isn’t good enough and it never will be! Why not just kill me now and save yourselves the trouble for later?” He yells in anguish. “I’m a lost cause right? There hasn’t been a wizard before me that was targeted by the Darkness and everyone’s too afraid of me to try and slow the process!”

The old man sets down the herbs he was grinding and looks out the window. 

“People are afraid of what they cannot control, Cloud.” He said simply.

The boy could feel the tears coming.

“And do they think that I am unafraid?! My mind is slowly being stolen from me and no one knows how or why! You used to tell me I had so much promise as an ice Wizard, well where’s my promise now master? Can you see the good in me now? Or is it all Darkness?” Cloud was out the door before his master could reply. 

He found himself running. Where, he didn’t know. Why? He couldn’t say. This was not something he could run away from. Ever since the day his wizard mark had appeared his fate was sealed. Unlike the others who had seen their powers grow immensely after being marked, Cloud found that his were being taken away. The complex spells he had been able to cast months before were now way out of reach to him. He even had trouble chilling the air around him, something he had been able to do effortlessly before. His anger was growing in him now. This mark. The mark that had ended his life, this stupid wizard mark that had taken the sight from his right eye. It was all the marks fault. It was all the wizards fault. If he had never studied magic he wouldn’t be dying right now. If he had just stayed away from all of this he wouldn’t be so miserable. 

His thoughts were interrupted quite rudely by an underlying tree branch. Pathetically he hit the ground with a loud thud. White hot pain shot up his leg but he didn’t care. He didn’t know how long he laid in the dirt. People were snickering at him in all of his sadness but he didn’t care. All that he could think of was the ever looming face of the Darkness that is always over his shoulder. Always watching him. Always waiting for a day when he won’t be strong enough to fight back against it’s power. And that scared him. 

“Excuse me. Are you alright?” He heard from in front of him.

He sat up straight but was greeted only with Darkness. Panic flooded through his body as he tried to blink away the temptation, but this time was different. It was too strong this time, and he was much too weak. This would be the time that the Darkness finally claimed him. He tried to make a sound but nothing would come out, all he could do was watch as the smiling face got closer and closer to him. He felt his body go numb and the world around him began to blur. In an effort to distract himself he wondered what it would feel like to lose his mind. Would he die immediately? Or would someone have to put him down like the monster he is? 

Suddenly he felt a warm touch on his arm. Puzzled, he looked down only to find a soft light growing from the area of the touch. The light climbed over all of his body until he was enveloped in it completely. It felt good. So warm and comforting. The boy couldn’t remember why he was so upset earlier, nor did he care. The world stopped spinning and some of the pain eased away from his eye. Dying wasn’t so bad, Cloud decided mentally. He definitely thought there would be more pain involved. More fear. Maybe he wasn’t dead? Maybe he was just waiting in line for the next time the Darkness needed a pawn. Either way he didn’t care. As long as this feeling of security stayed with him he didn’t care what else happened to him. For the first time in a while he felt calm. For the first time in a while he felt safe. And that was all that mattered to him now. 

Rose

Rose

The tower she lives in is a separate building from the rest of the castle. The noblemen had complained to the king numerous times about their distrust of magic, forcing his majesty to move all wizards into the precarious post. Her room happened to be on the very top of the tower, something that she didn’t mind too much at all really. The stairs gave her good exercise as she ran errands for the Grand Wizard, and the view from her window was quite breath taking really. In fact one of her favorite pass times was staring out over the open world in front of her, imagining her life from different points of view. 

Sometimes she was a farmer, tending the land to produce crops for the people. Other times she was a knight, brave and strong, willing to do anything if it meant brining justice. One time she was even a merchant, not the kind of haggling sleazy merchants that infest the land. But a kind, wise, merchant. The kind of merchant that would gladly give food away to starving children or maybe even try to give an extra deal to a family in need, that is the kind of merchant she would be.

But today she is not a merchant. Today she is the apprentice of the Grand Wizard, how she still cannot fathom. She had been told all of her life that she possessed great magical power. Power that coursed through the ground beneath her as she walked. Power that made all other wizards around her quake with anxiety, as if just a breath from her mouth could flatten them all. At least, that is what they told her. So far she hasn’t been able to cast even the smallest charm, much less an actual spell. From the simple levitating spell that preschool wizarding children are taught to the more complicated ignite spell her Master had so desperately tried to teach her, not a single wisp of magic seeped from her fingertips. 

She has felt it before, the course of magic around her. Of course she has felt it. The very tower they reside in pulsed with an almost unstable amount of energy, and energy that she longed to use so desperately. She wondered if they were lying to her, telling her she has promise when she really possesses the magical power of a teaspoon. Could someone really be so cruel that way? All her life she’d wanted to learn magic. She can still hear the mocking voices of her family to this very day. They had laughed at her, oh yes, they laughed. That had been the day that she finally left. She doesn’t know how far she ran before collapsing, all that mattered to her then was that she was as far away from those people as possible. When she woke, she was in the tower, surrounded by magic and the most impressive man that she had ever laid eyes on. 

He was young, even though he should be aged incredibly. Magic tends to do that to the users. His robes were modest compared to the wizards around him, one might even call him a peasant if they didn’t know any better. But she knew better. She was in the presence of the Grand Wizard, and he was not to be taken lightly. Somehow he had seen magic in her, a certain spark that caught his interest enough to take her under his wing. A spark that she couldn’t use at all. Her spirits fell as she thought of how disappointed in her he must be. 

There is a tapping at her window that startles her out of her memories. A raven. His raven. Its beady eyes gaze over her briefly before it lets out an ear piercing shriek and flies off. A message. Get back to practicing. She doesn’t know how the Grand Wizard can tell she is not practicing, but a small shiver runs through her nonetheless. With a wipe of her brow she clasps her hands once more and turns her attention to the wilted rose in front of her. Eagerly she closes her eyes and focuses all of her might on the incantation she had been taught time after time, praying that just a small amount of magic would appear in this moment. She felt the familiar pulling sensation in her mind as the Darkness tried to pull her through, the dangers of magic never seem to end. Her body ached with the desire to join the Dark, to become more powerful, to see if maybe she could use her real powers with what the Darkness has to offer. She can feel her mind reaching its breaking point and lets out small sounds of pain as she cancels the spell mid-cast. A stinging sensation runs up her arm and she lets out a small yelp. 

She blinks away the stars in front of her eyes rapidly and looks around. Nothing seems to have changed at all. That is when she notices him standing in the doorway, a large smile on his face. The raven on his shoulder almost looks as if it is laughing at her as she pants on the floor, the consequences of casting affecting her body more than usual. Without a sound the Grand Wizard points to the rose on the floor. Her eyes glance over and immediately begin to fill with tears. For a second she can’t believe that it is real, then she looks at her arm and almost jumps out of her skin with joy. There, where once was pale skin, is an intricate vine of flowers that runs all the way up the length of her arm. The mark of a true wizard is different for everyone, she has never seen one like this before. 

Tears trail down her face as she runs and jumps into the Grand Wizard’s arms, something that no one is allowed to do. For the moment it doesn’t matter. The rose is no longer wilted, in fact, it might be healthier than it ever was before now. The girl can hear her parents laughing softly in the background, she had finally done it. It’s a small step, but she had finally cast. She can finally cast a spell. She can finally be a wizard. 

Trapped

Trapped

A cement box. 4 impenetrable walls that lock her inside of this place. Time after time she’s tried calling out, but not even her voice is capable of seeping through such a barrier. She can’t understand how she ended up here, or why she feels so helpless at this moment. In her mind before becoming trapped she had many options, countless amounts of possibilities for her to pursue. So why now does there only seem to be one choice? Could a small mistake like that really have led to her ultimate failure? 

As she was growing up she was taught to succeed. To win in everything she does and to accept nothing less than perfect. For a long time that was what she did. Hating herself for her failures and imperfections and taking her accomplishments in a negative way. Her mind had become so twisted that she really did believe that she would fail if she made the smallest mistake, so she made a pact, a pact to never fail. To never end up here, trapped. So how did she get here? And is there really no way out? 

There must not be a way out. This is her fate. To sit and think about the failure that ruined her life. Ruined her future. One mistake, one decision that goes against anything someone else says and her future is destroyed. Who gives them the right to say that she is now useless? That she cannot benefit society because of how she behaved in a classroom. A time in her life that just couldn’t compete with schoolwork or a job. A time in her life that should have been about wonder and wanting to see the world instead of suffering and helplessness. All taken away from her in her early years. It doesn’t matter how hard she worked at the beginning, all that matters is the end. And in the end they deemed her unworthy, everyone did. So now she sits here in silence, no friends, no family. Just failure. 

With the weight of her failures and a future that she let so easily slide out of her grasp, the girl sits. She knows she cannot escape this place, who can find escape from their own mind? The girl knows it's helpless to have hope, she can almost hear her happiness float out of her body at this point.With her hands folded neatly on her lap like she was taught the girl bows her head, and cries. 

Shoot

Shoot

You have one choice. Shoot one of them, the other two will live. You have no memory of getting to this place. This place of darkness and blood. The three victims are looking up at you with pleading eyes, their mouths unmoving for fear that you will make a decision to end their lives. The gun is heavy and cold in your hands, but somewhat comforting. You find it strange that such a cruel object feels natural in your hands. In your head there is only one option for you. To shoot them. Why only one of them you cannot say. You aren’t even sure that this is real. Maybe it’s all a twisted, messed up dream. A dream where your decisions mean life or death. A dream where you hold the power to end a life, but at what cost? A dream where you can shoot one brutally here and leave the other two restless at night as they try to forget. Is this a dream? Or maybe a nightmare? 

Are you a criminal in this dream? A criminal who has no choice other than to kill or be killed? Or maybe you’re the type of criminal who kills just to kill. You could also be the justice bringer. Maybe these people are all criminals. Criminals who deserve to die at your hands right here and now. You feel your arm raise and look down into the woman’s eyes in front of you. She takes in a large gulp of air as the metal touches her head. She must have kids at home, you think to yourself. Tears track down her face as she tries to assess your emotionless face. What are you feeling? Do you feel scared? Bored? Happy? You cannot say. 

This must be a dream. If you can hold a gun to an innocent woman’s head without second thought, then this must be a dream. Or maybe this is a nightmare. All of these people must be innocent and you are the sadist who wants to watch them die. Yes. This is a nightmare. But is it so bad? A choice is easy to make. You don’t know these people after all. You don’t know their stories, or their names, so why hesitate? 

‘Only one’. Resonates in your head. Why only one? Is their one guilty being among the three in this room? How would you know? Maybe you should try speaking to them, try to find out why they are here. A look into the eyes of the boy to your right stops you. None of them, much like yourself, know why they are here. Do you have any memories? What is your name? The gun feels much colder in your hands as you struggle to remember even the faintest trace of who you are. An interesting sensation washes over you. A sensation that almost feels like fear, but something much deeper than that. Something inside that you can’t exactly put your finger on. The three are looking up at you but no longer with fear. Their eyes are blank, their faces emotionless. You almost want to try talking to them but something stops you. A tingling goes up your spine and you are forced to turn around. 

A person stands directly behind you. A person you know. She smiles and waves at you. Your eyes catch the glint of the gun in her hand as she stares at you expectantly. You smile, and she smiles. You move, and she moves. A mirror image. A reflection of yourself. How is it that you cannot recognize yourself? The girl in front of you is completely new in your mind, but this girl is you. The three are staring at your back in the mirrors reflection, their eyes are completely black now. Your reflection looks at you with a slight grin on her foreign face. A dream. She smiles once more and says something to you. Something in your brain clicks. Yes. This must be a dream. A crazy, messed up dream that I have put myself in. The girl catches your attention again and repeats her recycled saying. A smile catches your lips and you raise your arm once more. There is a static sound behind you now, like a TV that cannot find a channel to run. The static grows louder and louder as the cool metal touches your temple. A dream. 

The girl smiles and turns away from you. You notice that she is bleeding heavily from the face, the blood staining the white floor she walks on. The gun is no longer in her hand as she walks away from you. The static grows louder. 

“Only one.” You say as your finger drags the cool trigger back. 

World

World

Growing up you realize the world is much different than what you once expected. You aren’t the fairy tail character of your imagination. You aren’t the next president of the United States. You are what they make you out to be. What they want you to be. 

Instead of wanting to be you, to be different than everyone around you, society has taught you to hate your differences, and to become more like the norms. At this point you are afraid to branch out anymore, too afraid to be condoned for liking something other than what they implanted in you so long ago. Instead of everyone being what they want and who they want you witness the love and character in this world slowly dying. Being replaced with the mindless robots of today that constantly claw towards the top of some imaginary chain of success. 

You are involuntarily separated into groups. Those who fit in. And those who do not. Who made these groups? Your so-called peers? Instead of working together to try and better our futures we are just constantly fighting. Fighting about what we believe in, versus what someone else does. Shouldn’t we all just try to help each other get through this instead of trying to prove ourselves right? Another word that has corrupted this place I once thought was magical. Right. Who is right? Is anything ‘right’? Right is a word that is used to justify what someone is doing for their benefit. Rarely is it used in a positive meaning. Is that right?

Scars and cracks form the past are no longer accepted in this world. They are deemed ugly. Those who possess pain from the past are deemed disgusting. Why? Isn’t that what the world is today? Just one big scar. One big crack. One big mistake. Cracks in a road can be paved over, true. But can the cracks inside of us? When you are alone, really thinking about the world, about yourself. Do you like what you find? In such a twisted place that we call home the cracks are all but immune to fixing. 

Does anything really change? 

Can anything really be fixed? 

Can you change? 

Jump

Jump

Your knees are shaking, your palms are sweaty. Jump. Your throat tightens and a sob escapes your mouth. The ground looks so far away but so close at the same time. Your breathing becomes rapid. It’s just an easy fall, is what you said earlier, all that’s left is for the ground the catch you. 

The ground. The thing holding you up in this world. Millions of tiny hands, all pushing you up in a comforting manner. Pushing you to stand when you would stumble as a child. Over all of the years you’ve been walking on this earth, you’ve been walking on the ground. There is a deep pain throbbing throughout your entire body now. Something deeper than a sob rolls out of your chest and you find it hard to breath. Your vision blurs and hot tears cascade like rivers from your eyes. 

There is a sensation of something much more than depression in your stomach now. You feel like the ground is watching you, staring up at your rooftop as you bite through your lips. You can almost see the hands reaching up to catch you for when you decide to jump. You feel in your heart that this is what you want, what you think you want. But the ground hasn’t given up on you yet has it? The ground hasn’t let you suddenly fall out of nowhere has it? Why would it now? 

White hot anger begins to screech through your mind and you find yourself yelling towards the ground. The reasons you were running through your head seem childish now as you finally face your fears. All the hands can do is stare sadly up at you in their outstretched fashion, awaiting your final fall. You know that if you push yourself over the edge, that the ground will catch you. You feel that if you time it right you could slip right past the hands grasps, to not be caught in their comforting embrace. But at the same time you know the it is futile. The ground is strong, and it cares too much about you to let you die here. 

Suddenly you see yourself in a wheelchair, the ground moving pebbles out of your way as you slowly make it across the hospital parking lot. You feel the sensation of relief as you are finally allowed to leave once more, only to never walk again. The ground wouldn’t let you fall. Not now. Not when you have so much to continue towards. Those hands that are so strong they can move cars out of your path would never miss a small teenage girl. 

Your stomach does flips as you feel the compassion and love coming up from the rock hard beings below. What once seemed like such a final solution suddenly has no feeling anymore. Fear replaces your resolve and you find yourself falling backwards, your body colliding hard with the cement behind you. Stars blink briefly in front of your eyes but are replaced with a heat that makes you smile. The hands are reaching you now, consoling your shattered mind into peace. You can feel the small amount of warmth in your stomach, something so small that it will never overcome the pain that you feel. The struggles that you endure. Such a small comfort seems like nothing in the face of dealing with your everyday problems. But yet you find a strand of peace amongst the fraying rope of your life. The ground would rather shatter than watch you break upon its face, the ground would never want to see you die. 

It isn’t much, the grounds love for you. But something believes in you and your ability to move on and do great in this world. A single being believes in you, that alone is worth living for.