Posted in Writober

Seclusion

Credit: hautemacabre.tumblr.com
Credit: hautemacabre.tumblr.com

Never had I thought that loneliness would leave me so vulnerable. I enjoy, and have always enjoyed, being left to my own. People are too indecisive, and far too reckless in their desires. And so, for many years I lingered in the company of my own mind. Now, I regret my seclusion.

I would like to think that my misfortunes began slowly and increased over time, but truly, I can’t be certain. I do know, however, that once the black dot appeared I could no longer deny the truth.

One evening, while reading by the window, I realized a small black speck in my vision. I thought it was from tired eyes, or, at best, something in my eye. I rubbed and it went away. But days passed and I saw it again. Often times, I could look away and lose the particle. I began to think it was something I would have to accept as part of my being.

Then, the peculiar began. While outside watching the stars, I heard a strange sound—a voice in its most blurred and ambiguous manner. It wasn’t in the field, and it wasn’t near the road; it was within me. It echoed deep in my ears, traveled through my spine and wrestled my heart. I shook it off, but it behaved like the speck. Soon, I couldn’t make it go away.

Time went on, and soon the voice grew a personality. She would speak to me when I was cooking, or argue while I worked my puzzles. This continued for weeks. The speck was growing as well. My vision weakened and my will began to wear. Then, as I should have expected, something else occurred.

Most mornings I woke to the sun and went to fix my fruit for breakfast. But one morning, I felt the strangest urge to approach the hall mirror. I went calmly, stared deeply as the speck took a quarter of my sight, and fell back as the face of a pale woman emerged from my own.

I crouched to my feet to hide from the apparition, but it was too late. She was escaping—her soul lifting from my body. I had no idea how she came to be, or why she ever chose me to carry her, but I did know that she was real.

And there on the floor, as I struggled to breathe—to sustain my own life—the blackened soul of the woman lifted from my mouth and into the air. I watched, through soaked eyes, as she traveled through my home towards an open window.

Needless to say, I chose to leave my home and start over in the city. I still find time to be alone, but I’m never far from others. We require the nearness of other humans to fulfill our lives, yet we do not necessitate constant company. Balance is the means for perfection.

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Author:

I write because it makes me happy :) Simple enough!

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