5:28 pm

5:28 pm

A Story by Raven Starhawk

A harvested soul splits in two as a blinded nation rises to fall. Whispers cease a reckless heart forged by bitter envy upon a jealous dream. From my bowels I submit unto you truths as they are meant to be heard, but covered ears refuse to listen. Such is the way of people who live in clouds. Ask not the questions of the ordinary for they will writhe beneath your skin like maggots and spoil your soul assuming you have a soul to take.

Through the blurry lens figures come into focus as they sit on a bench. Hand in hand, fingers linked, smiles sketch the fine lines on their faces. Their matching gray hair and wasted appearance indicates death is within reach. I swallow hard. A lump of mucus refuses to slide down my dry throat.

No one knew the secrets of life. Humans aren't meant to understand it I think. The truth must be too hard to comprehend. I study my lap. Gentle golden rays warm my hands as my fingers curl into my palms. There was one fact though that even I longed to erase. Of course my fears often detain me and I retreat into fantasy.  I look up. Each car that hurried by carried a set of people whose chapter will end someday. It didn't matter what road they took in life. It would always lead to final thought and final breath.

I sink in my seat. A cool breeze brushes through my hair. I suppose belief in a deity helps ease the fear of the unknown, but a person like me simply fails to buy stock in the idea. In my own little way I argue with myself that a creator had to exist. Then again the universe could be infinite and create itself.

Today is...?  I have lost track of days, night, weeks and months, but regardless of that fact I sit here overwhelmed by the darkness. It feasts on my soul, assuming I still have one but then again it might have been all used up by now. I would think I would feel it there. I feel empty though. I feel used up.

People believe hell is all about fire and brimstone. This was enough to even make me laugh. The secret is: Hell is whatever you make it. Of course if fire and brimstone is your utmost revolving fear then I suppose that is what you will be stewing in for all eternity however, not necessarily so. You see the human mind is an elaborate maze of fears and expectations. Once you arrive here it may take on a whole other universe and subject you to various horrors you never thought possible.

For me, hell is the reality of losing her. Never seeing her face again or hearing her voice is what drives me to the brink of insanity. And in a way I have lost her. I lost her to anger and selfishness. But is that why I reside here among the damned? No. In actuality I am not a prisoner. I am not an overseer either, but nevertheless here I am. My story is filled with such vague details. Perhaps someday I am willing to relinquish more. For now I must be a slave to pain and sorrow.

Faces blur together. There is no originality anymore to physical attributes. Time in this obvious nightmare warrants very little in way of sanity and still as hours stretch into days I am certain change is around the corner.

Endless need paints a macabre picture. In the East an orange ball blazes. It has been a while since I watched the sun. Now it is just a memory stored in the rapidly dying banks of my mind. Tomorrow is supposed to guarantee me release from this chamber, but returning to an world that had damned me at every turn is a fate worse than death. As I see it humanity is a tale of tragic greed and lust for power.

In this enclosed space I have very little room to breathe should I still be able to intake breath. Funny how something as little as that can weigh down hope. It doesn't matter in the end because we all return to the earth as nothing more than soupy bags of waste.

© 2018 Raven Starhawk


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Added on November 21, 2018
Last Updated on November 21, 2018
Tags: story, fiction, storytelling, first person, depression, life, death, thoughts