At some point she began to question…
Did she have more of a choice than she had realised?
And if so… could she get her friend back?
She felt like the movement from friend to fiend was something that happened rather than something she had chosen. Now she could see that, perhaps she could change it?
She noticed something about herself that she didn’t like and wondered how she had become this way.
When others talked about their adventures she marvelled at their vitality. Yearned to see through their eyes. But she dared not go there. She listened in awe, but expressed no desire.
She lived on the surface, afraid to go any deeper. The door was closed and she didn’t know how to open it. She felt no right to dream, to wish, to do. Yet, felt sadness in her station. She sat and watched those more intelligent, more beautiful and more inspired live out their dreams. She watched the hoards dig in deep for their fist full of life and believed her empty hands were justified.
She remained with her fiend, yet began to look for her friend.
For a while, the more she looked… the more she watched… the emptier she felt. She who was once an unstoppable dreamer, seemed to have smothered her own magic. As ideas swirled about her head, she welcomed them in – but only for a moment – before blowing them out with a well practised breath of ice.
Had the fiend won? Had it filled her so deeply with its blood that her friend no longer had breath?
She could see what it had done to her. It had ruined everything. Become a smear over her heart. A shadow over her aspirations. A violent thunder storm within her soul.
Something inside her told her it had to stop. That she could stop it, before it was too late.
Day after day she closed her eyes and searched for her friend. It lingered and faded. Lingered and faded. Lingered and faded.
The more she practised the longer it lingered. The longer it lingered the more she understood… her friend had never left her… she had left her friend.
She closed her eyes and realised, her friend had always been there. All she had to do was imagine and imagination was once again her friend.
One Reply to “Death of a Fiend – Part II”
I look forward to reading part 3!