Death is a lover.
As I lie here, basking in the heat of my bed with the one I love, I think about the laughter we share and the moments between the stress of life.
I think this is what Death will feel like.
The sweet embrace of a lover as they touch my knee with absentmindedness. The feeling of sweat-soaked skin touching my own. The sound of laughter wiggling in my eardrums.
I tell them I love them because they remind me of Death.
The moments before you go are told to be cold, and then suddenly filled with a sense of warm and fuzzy calm.
Is that Death? Touching my shouler and petting my hair, coaxing me into the afterlife?
I would hope Death would look like a lover.
I'd be terribly afraid to go alone.
How kind of Death, to be there to walk with me into the unknown.
Binary Human Nature.
The sun is overwhelming today, heat like a stove top left on by accident, the glare makes my eyes burn.
I see a set of eyes through the windows, a young boy looks at me with joy and excitement as I open the gate.
I hate it.
His happiness is my future sorrow.
He doesn't understand.
It's not his fault.
Still, I wished he was dead, if for just a moment.
I hate people I do not know and I don't know why. One day this boy will stand in my shoes, perhaps he will feel the same.
I hope he doesn't.
I do not have good days.
I have days that aren't as bad as they could have been and I have days that are worse.
I hear the ticking of a clock in the back of my skull, a low frequency hum that only I can detect.
A voice in my ear tells me to see what the future holds.
It tells me to experience life after death.
The clock sounds like the trigger of gun, the barrel empty.
The barrel spins, I hear the whirring.
For a moment I wonder what kind of gun it is.
I might have one like it at home.
I shake my head like the horse in my memories. These thoughts will not help me today.
I smile at the boy.
He smiles back.
The ticking in my head gets louder.
"What are we doing?"
Surviving.
"We want to live."
We have to survive to live.
"Then what is the point?"
To live.
"We only ever survive."
Yes.
"We should give up."
No.
"Why?"
I dont know.
"Fear?"
No.
"Revenge?"
No.
"Happiness?"
No.
"Why?"
I dont know.
"Give up?"
I stare straight ahead, the thoughts spill out of my nose and eyes like ichor. Bile rises in my throat, I force it back down. I drink my bitter lukewarm coffee.
I drone on.
My ears are cold, they ring with the pain, my temples tremble constantly, my eyes twitch.
I am unfocused, yet the tasks are done perfectly, years of training and indoctrination pay off.
I am a number.
228.
A cog in a machine, a frayed wire thats live.
I am a danger to myself and others.
Yet I must push on, what else am I to do?
I talk too much, yet I can never explain enough.
I can only understand myself.
Thin blue lines under my skin, wiring of an organic nature. A super computer sits in gelatinous fluid inside my skull. High quality streaming devices sit above a speaker between the microphones we call ears.
I have autonomy, free will.
But what if that is not the truth? How do i know that my life hasn't been predetermined?
Do i believe in destiny? Fate?
Does my programming tell me to?
I do not think that I make decisions anymore.
My ideas are not real, they are not my own.
The little boy tells me goodbye.
I smile at him as he leaves.
I apologize to him in my thoughts.
My smile fades.
It's quiet.
The Birth of a Magical Girl.
The battle had waged on for hours now, Motus Invidia and Motus Timor had been battling such a great foe and their efforts had been in vain. They stood winded and battered, their beautiful gowns and wands torn and broken, the villain simply puffed their chest in pride at their disdain.
I’ve known these girls for a few months now, becoming fast friends in our collective literature class in college, and not long after knowing them I became privy to their secondary lifestyles of magical girls. They referred to themselves as “Motus” and were given names upon their “re-birth” as they so-called it. My classmate, Naili, and I watched on in horror as they waged their battle, concerned that their attacks wouldn’t be able to stop their great adversary.
“The dance of the black swan!” Motus Timor called out, one of her beautiful signature moves. The black sparkles scattered and exploded around the villain with gorgeous intricacies that could only be attributed to ancient magic that we regular humans were still too unfamiliar with.
The move simply dissipated into thin air over the side of the cliff, the battle taking place on a high plateau away from most civilians save for Naili and myself. Motus Invidia cast another spell, plethoras of large green orbs surrounding her, suddenly shooting towards their foe. With a wave of their hand, they had cast the orbs away, heading in every direction.
One was heading straight for me and Naili.
It landed with a large ‘boom’ at our feet, just barely missing us as we tried to rush out of its path, but the ground below our feet began to crumble. The rock was sliding off the side of the plateau with me on it. Naili called for me, rushing to me as quickly as she could while I simply held my hand out to her in fright, surely this would be my end.
I closed my eyes, resigned to my fate when I felt Naili's soft hand grasp my own. I was pulled with great force towards her as she used her entire body weight to toss me to safe ground.
But she was now falling into the abyss in my stead.
A scream ripped through my throat as I reached out for her, already too far out of my reach as I watched her plummet to the ground. Tears flooded my vision as I did my best to focus on her, only catching one last glimpse of her tanned skin and brown locks flying around her face.
She was smiling up at me, she had saved me.
She fell for quite some time before I heard the loud thud of her body hitting the ground. Her limbs were mangled and her body contorted in odd ways, blood pooled around her lifeless form as I wept and screamed out to her. She was gone.
The Motus were a strange thing, unsure of their power themselves in some cases, but they had never told either me or Naili how to become magical girls ourselves. They had kept their origins a secret and would either quickly change the subject or shut us down entirely when we asked to become like them. Saying that what they had to give up wasn’t worth the power they were given in return. However, for the first time since I had asked since finding out about their powers all the time ago, I was finally given the answers that I sought but realized now that I did not want them.
From my height on the plateau, I could make out Naili’s body fairly well, I could still see the morbid smile plastered on her face as her body began to convulse. Her chest sunk in deeply as she shook, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin.
A hand had burst from her chest, covered in blood and gore, and the familiar sight of Naili’s smiling face stared back up to me from within her chest.
A new Motus had been born.