Silhouette In The Sky
“Why can’t I dream? Where is it written that I can’t have hopes and aspirations? My thoughts no longer break free of the monotony, the mundane and grey walls of life. The dreams I once found escape and retreat in no longer comfort my nights. Now as life painfully drags on, I feel myself going through the motions, but I have no feeling left, having given so much and received so little back from this world.”
With pencil in hand a young man sat there at his desk, spilling his thoughts onto paper. Each flowing stroke of writing, ebbing away the sharpened point of the lead. The shadow of a young man stretched eerily across the parchment, its looming presence expanded and accentuated, by the single lamp casting a dull glowing light throughout the small room. He paused here and there, as a long drawn out sigh would pass through his lips, embodying his sullen and sorrowed state of being. ”What do I do,” He asked aloud to the empty room. Sitting expectantly for a moment, as if awaiting an answer.
Sadly though no answer came, only silence ringing out with its deafening non existent song of solitude. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair casting a searching glance out into the darkness. His worn and weary eyes shining a dull green, they had lost the almost emerald brilliance they had once contained. But one could not expect a pure hue to remain radiant with life, seeing all, and living as that young man had. Another long sigh resonated from the young man, as he rubbed his eyes in a mix of frustration and exhaustion before looking out the window to his right. Night had settled hours ago. Now rain had begun to knock at his window, leaving tiny droplets of moisture that streaked down the glass.
Is this it? He thought, as he gazed out into the night sky. Is this how it will end? He stood pushing his chair back from the desk he’d been sitting at, before he stepped towards the window to gaze out more intently at the night sky. He stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, hands clasped together ever so gently behind him, against the small of his back. Turning to gaze at his room, collecting his thoughts, he quietly looked it over. His room was small and simple with a bed, a writing desk, and a nightstand as well as select various items. Everything was neat and organized, as if everything had it’s own designated place. Time had seemed to stand still as he just stood there, letting his shoulders slump forward with a sigh, looking at the paper on his desk.
“Well then, I suppose it’s about that time,” he whispered to himself. As he walked back to his desk. He reached down, grabbing the pencil he’d been using earlier, as he scribbled a few last notes.
“There, that’ll do it,” he spoke again. His voice trailing off as he laid the pencil back down, his gaze now falling on one of the desk’s many drawers. Reaching down he slid the drawer open, taking from it a small bottle of whiskey. A black label its only markings. “How about one last drink my old friend,” he asked. Almost as if it was normal to talk to a bottle of ninety proof.
He made his way towards a door in the corner of his room. Opening it he reached in and flipped on the light. Nearly blinding himself with the sudden reflection of the light, off the white tiles and fixtures. The bathroom, same as his bedroom, was immaculately conditioned. Everything shining brilliantly, showing it’s owners care in cleaning it. Another sigh escaped him. Hopefully the last. he thought. As he sat down on the floor. Leaning his back against the bathtub, twisting the cap off the bottle clenched tightly in his hand, taking a long drink. His face contorted slightly from the harsh burning of the liquid, as it snaked it’s way down his throat, before finding his stomach.
He gasped before inhaling deeply, wiping the excess from his mouth with his sleeve. Oh! I never thought if I was dressed for the occasion. He thought, suddenly looking down, giving himself a quick once over. Black slacks, dress shoes and a long sleeve button up…it’ll do. He thought, but soon his thoughts quickly returned to the bottle in his hand. He took another long drink, the previous burning sensation now numbed. He wasn’t sure of the time, all he knew was that night still blanketed the world, as rain gently washed all that seemed wrong. He suddenly found himself wishing things were that simple, as he finished off the last bit of whiskey.
Silence overtook him once again, his shallow breaths mixing with the soothing sounds of the rain. “Well then,” he spoke. Looking towards the ceiling, a steady stream of tears cascading down his face. “Well then, I guess this is goodbye,” he said. Suddenly smashing the bottle he held onto the cold tiled floor. Without a moments hesitation he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, before grabbing a broken shard of glass. Quickly he brought it across one of his exposed wrists, then suddenly across the other. He held back a gasp at the sensation of the glass slicing through his skin, and soon became silent, watching his very life drain onto the cold white floor and pool beneath him. Minutes passed and soon his head was becoming heavy, as he quickly found his strength seeping away. He slumped over, his eyes shut firmly, body growing numb. He knew it wouldn’t be long now, a few more minutes, and he would be free to dream forever.
“You, do you really hate your life this much,” called a stern yet tender voice.
“I do. I have lost all hope, and I am tired of clinging to this existence. I’m tired of the constant ridicule and torment...I’m tired of my kindness going unnoticed,” he said. his strength fading more and more, with each passing moment he could feel death’s embrace drawing closer.
“Did you wish to receive reward for something so simple as living with kindness in your heart,” The voice called. Its tone seeming almost saddened.
“No, I only wished to be accepted. I wished that even just once that my kindness would be returned, or even noticed.” He could feel the sensation of tears forming in the corner of his eyes now, the voice seeming to take hold of his heart.
“Then I must know, do you truly wish to die,” the voice called. He shifted his body, stretching out onto the floor. Blood soaked his clothing, dying his white shirt a crimson red. He reached out, summoning up what strength he had to do so.
“No, no I don’t want to die,” he cried. Suddenly feeling something nuzzle his hand softly.
“Then I will save you, give you a second chance. However you will never know of the life you once had. you will begin anew, my friend.”
Friend? he thought. When suddenly he recalled memories he thought long forgotten. “Wait,” he called. Struggling to move, forcing his eyes to open as he saw the flowing blue mane of his friend. “It’s you, I’ve waited so long for you,” he whispered. Seeing the alicorn princess’ face lower into view.
“I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry I made you wait all this time for my return,” she spoke softly. Nuzzling his cheek, as he became engulfed by the blue aura of her magic resonating from her horn.
“Lu…Luna…please tell me I won’t forget you,” he whispered. Every breathe strained as he became weaker. Luna turned from him, a tear falling, rolling down her cheek.
“I’m sorry, but you will forget ever knowing me. I will be nothing more than a stranger to you after tonight.”
He could feel his heart break at her words, the pain of those words seemed to numb his already weakened heart. Still he had to be strong, he couldn’t show any remorse or fear. He wouldn’t let her see his pain. It was his final gift to her, as he accepted her final gift. The final gift she gave to a broken young man, foolish enough to take his life. He reached out, his hand falling limp over one of Luna’s forehooves, as he forced a smile.
“No matter what this new life you give me brings, I will find you again Luna,” he said. The smile slowly fading from his lips. He could feel it, his time was nearly over. The princess of the night felt a pain burn in her chest as she listened to his words, tears now streaming down her graceful cheeks.
“Because I never got the chance to tell you that…that…I…I…love.” His body fell limp, the last of his shuddered breaths escaping his lungs. Luna stood silent, her chest heaved as small sobs passed her lips.
“I will miss you my friend but I can never let this happen to you again...I can never let memories of our time together burden you,” she leaned down kissing his cheek tenderly as she spoke. Giving one final look down at her friend. The bathroom became engulfed in her magic, and just as suddenly as Luna had appeared...she was gone. Along with the young man she knew as her friend.
The bathroom, stained red with blood, was the only evidence found by the police several days later. Those who investigated the young man’s disappearance, found only a letter left on a small desk. The letter asking why dreams no longer came, why life was so unfair, and why kindness seemed to be nothing but a myth. The letter signed by James Ivanez...