Fields of Nothingness

He raised his head and looked out the small window by his cot. The world outside which he so desperately sought, was bleak and cold, "To trade one existence for another, yet neither can fill the void in my soul..."

He lifted his head to stare at the bleak ceiling of is small cell. Try as he might, the thoughts of one, small insignificant joyful thought eluded his faltering mind. All his narrowed and tortured conscience could focus on were memories of where he erred, lied, mislead, and groveled.

"Damn these memories running through my head! Nothing can alleviate my impending doom.... Only to see her again.... Only for her to hold my hand and whisper sweetness into my ear..... If only.... If only....."

There were times when it all became too much. He pounded his fists into the wall and floor until he was dizzy and weak from the blood loss. Other times he simply sat there and prayed to die of a broken heart. Yet still other times he vowed that he was strong and determined to survive. Countless people saw the very torment his soul was in. All saw, none helped.

They spit on him and his despicable deeds, spit on his memory, scorned his love. Yet none of them knew what really lay beneath the cold, scarred surface. With a face of marble that belied his true emotions he plowed on through life.
They continued on their "righteous" path, above, aloof. Yet when one stumbled and was scorned by their peers, he was there to help. It is funny to think that they relied on him so. Rather humorous.

And still his dreams tortured him so. To the point of blustering madness his dreams haunted him. Every day was routine, but he could feel his resolve breaking under the strain.

The blood ran from his hands down his arms where it pooled and dripped at his elbows. Her blood, his blood, their blood. He killed it.... Looked it in the face knowing the end result and killed it.

He watched the life leave its eyes, growing gray, cold, dull, and depthless. And he screamed. He screamed at everyone who watched. He screamed at the people who looked at him with eyes of pity. He hated those eyes, how they burned his scarred flesh. He wished they would kill him and be done with it. He wished they would end his torment instead of watching him rot in the prison of his own mind.

The outside was so bleak and emotionless. No shelter from the pains of the world, no salvation from the sins. He hated waking in the morning, feeling optimistic, then falling, and falling deep into himself at the sight of his transgressions.

Time slowly etched its path on his face, he watched himself slip into a vast field of nothingness. He felt the cold wind on his face, the kind of cold that steals the breath and weakens the bones. He felt his fingers curl into a fist, and his heart harden to stone. "DAMN THEM! LOOK WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO ME!!"

And with that explosion of self pity, only then did he realize that only he was to blame for this conflagration of pain. Only then did he realize that he had created all of this. The Hatred, Pain, Paranoia, the Damnable Cold, he had created all of it to fill Her void.

Everything that he believed to be certain and concrete was now as evasive as a warm summer breeze. He suddenly came to the conclusion that the world was what you make it. Breed hatred and discord and you shall have it. But reach for the stars and make your destiny your own, Ah, now you have reached eternal bliss and love.
For that’s all there is in this world is Happiness and Love. He knows that now, and he now spends his time taking his prison down brick by brick. He casts those bricks into oblivion and welcomes the coming of the future.

And he dreams! Oh, and dream he does! The cold, barren field is now showered in Sunlight and sprouts flourish the weathered cracks of his soul. Life Renewed!