This is not your average story, it may seem that way in the beginning, but you will soon come to realise that this tale is not something you will have heard before. The stories we read, the stories we tell, they all have one thing in common; good wins. Well, not in this story, I don’t want to spoil the ending, but I don’t really need to worry, because no matter how hard you try; you won’t predict this.
The wind battled against me, begging for the chance to overpower me, it howled and moaned almost asking me to give in; the wind didn’t know me very well. I knew I was being followed, I also knew they were exactly seventeen minutes away; that was something I missed, the element of surprise; being aware of everything around you took that away. The wind and I would become friends soon, a friendship formed out of necessity rather than anything else. You see, I needed the wind, and the wind was desperately lonely; some would call this taking advantage, I saw it as taking an opportunity.
My feet bore into the hard ground with each step I took, the wind still clawing at me, trying to haul me back to it. They were gaining on me, only twelve minutes behind now. If I stopped and listened I knew I would hear them calling, just like I had every night for the past two months. Every night it was the same, they told me what they wanted, and I refused. I wouldn’t stop now, I didn’t want to feel their voices crawl into my brain, to feel them pulling at me with their black eyes; if I stopped now, I wouldn’t be able to escape. So I ran faster, the end of the cliff exactly three minutes away if I kept up this speed. The trees joined the wind’s mission, grabbing me, striking me at every turn. Why did nobody want me to succeed? I pleaded with the wind to let me go, to help me instead of holding me back, it didn’t listen. The end of the cliff was visible now, taunting me with the distance between us. Now it wasn’t the wind holding me back, it was my own fear.
I stopped running, the wind stopped too, unsure of my intentions. I felt them, their eyes, their voices, their souls calling to me, I could feel it all, and it hurt. It was too much, the pain in my mind expanding, trying to take over. My scream sliced through the night, silencing the trees and the wind. The voices grew; their presence bore down on me like the weight of a thousand worlds. I couldn’t bear it, why me? Why did I have to bear it? Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?
I could feel it now, their fear, their hatred; they wanted me dead. I don’t blame them. Do you remember when I said this story was different? That’s because good doesn’t win in this story. They lose.
I could see them now, emerging from the tress like an army of corpses; their eyes were missing, hollow and black, their bodies crumbling beneath them. Their voices had been stolen, but I still heard them, they spoke to me, or wailed at me, trying to make me repent, to make me feel for them, to make me regret what I had done. It didn’t work. I had destroyed them, because they wouldn’t listen. If only they had listened.
You see, I’m not good; I was good, I was just like you, innocent, normal, human. Now, I am better, or worse, depending on your point of view. Now, I felt everything, every thought, every fear, every movement. Every human on the face of this planet was connected to me, and I hated them for it. They became monsters to me; these half dead shells. I tried to tell them, tried to make them understand that I didn’t want to hurt them, being different didn’t make me dangerous. Well, until they started trying to kill me. The human race has one fatal flaw, their inability to embrace differences. I would have lived a peaceful life, if they had left me alone, but they had to come for me; with a cage.
I was an animal to them, they feared me, and so they wanted me locked up. I didn’t turn on them straight away, I explained it to them again; I wasn’t dangerous. My family were there, in the hoard of marchers there to steal my freedom, I begged them to believe me, my own mother told me I was a monster. What did they expect to happen? You don’t corner a beast and expect it to play nicely. So, I embraced them, felt every one of them surface in my brain, I felt their souls, each a different hue, and then I crushed them.
That’s why they were after me, they couldn’t see that I would kill them too; they caused me so much pain and they thought they were innocent. The humans thought they needed weapons, but all they needed was their emotions. I begged the wind to take me away, to carry me somewhere, somewhere where they couldn’t hurt me.
They were closer now, their guns level with my head, I could feel them all, their hope, it fused into my brain, declaring loudly that I didn’t have any. There were too many of them, their lives were so close, I couldn’t bear it. They were attacking me without moving a muscle, how ironic it was to be so powerful, and yet fall to my knees when a human felt something. Their empty eyes looked into me, throwing their hatred at me like knives. I felt it coming, the last burst of emotions before I tore them apart; the wind was ignoring me now, its willingness to be my friend gone, because it too knew what I was going to do.
I begged them to stop, to leave me alone, to save themselves and run. They didn’t. They only felt more, the colours blinded me; a sea of pain crashing over me, drowning me in their anger. I couldn’t take it, I was only a child! I was screaming now, pulling the colours towards me, I could feel each one of them, pounding against a new part of my brain. With one final scream, they were gone. The colours evaporated, leaving me alone with the wind.
The wind was harsh now, begrudgingly helping me carry the bodies to the cliff. It knew I needed its help, and it couldn’t refuse. The bodies sailed away, more peaceful than before, all their worries and fears floated with them, long forgotten. The wind carried them downwards, where the water greeted them, enveloping them in a gently embrace. I smiled, they looked happy now, their eyes were colourful again; blues and browns and greys and greens. They weren’t monsters anymore, I saved them from themselves.
Remember when I told you good wouldn’t win? I wonder if you agree...
Would you say I was bad because I murdered hundreds of people?
Would you say I was bad because they wanted to kill me?
Would you say I was bad if you knew I was only seven?
Would you say I was bad if I only wanted to set them free?