Nothing is Real


Into the cold moonlight, a child climbed out of the darkness. Her hair caught wildly in the wind, even as she hesitated where she stood. She could still hear the howling of the wolves, but they did not sound as close as they had earlier, and she allowed herself a moment to breathe.

“Take this and leave, nina. Hurry!”

Leave, she thought scornfully, hurrying towards the shadows the looming gray buildings provided. Where for? And she cursed at herself for the sadness preparing to overwhelm her. What for? They weren’t even real. They didn’t even exist.

Head bowed low, she broke into a run, going faster and faster and faster, until everything around her was just a blur of darkness and light, and then until everything seemed to merge together in a block of gray, and then until she saw spots that grew larger and larger, but through it all she could see his face, laughing at her, mocking her.

Who are you?” She cried into the silence of the hostile night, eyes closed for a moment in confusion when a sudden drop in the landscape threw her off balance, and the girl tumbled down a slope, her world suddenly in as much chaos as the insides of her mind, and she laughed, even as she rolled all the way to the bottom, where she lay for a while before curling up into herself in order to wait.

What was the worst the night could do?

What was the worst anybody could do?

The moon disappeared behind an ominous cloud, and the betrayal was complete.

Sometimes, one has no choice but to welcome the darkness. Or, at the very least, accept it.

Empathy is the Enemy


For if you can’t relate, can’t connect, you can’t be destroyed.

Lonely, but indestructible.

Is any feeling better than no feeling?

I don’t think either can be tolerated for too long.

The children are always the wisest.

I am going to let you go now, okay?