Just a Story

     “When you have made the decision, do not look back.” She whispered.
     He raised up his head and looked up at Time. Sunlight danced between his joyous hair. With childish eyes clear as the endless sky, he held hands with Time as walking on the path of past, present, and future.
     “What if I did?” His angelic voice rang beside her.
     She looked down. Her grey eternal eyes met his eyes of blue, reflecting the wings of the fluttering bluebirds. Her grey long hair gently flowed with the breeze, on her head was the crown of Ivy leaves. The birds sung the song of Time, and slipped away from his eyes.
     She touched his rosy cheeks, as he flushed and looked away from her glance. She squeezed his soft little hand and sighed.
     “Don’t.” She smiled.
     She kissed his forehead as a reply. The boy felt a tender raindrop upon his cheek.
     ​Goodbye.

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     He dropped his arm. His veins were dry as the shriveled autumn leaves. Under the gleaming dusk, he wearily lowered down his head. His greasy hair hung beside his eyebrows.
     His eyes flickered.
     Darkness swarmed back into his heart.
     His head ached.
     The plain jeans and shirts now splattered with dark red and wild purple, yet he could no longer sense color.
     He wondered what happened to the fluttering bluebirds.
     The storm had come before he boasted a second time. The heavy clouds had drowned him into the swirling darkness, along with the darkened stars. Half the world is awake, and half of it is asleep, yet he roamed between the two, like an unrest phantom. His mind and soul does not cease to tear apart his wretched body.
     Everything is nothing but dreams.
     His lifted his eyelids and gazed into the vast of emptiness.
     Let go. He thought Time echoed beside his ears.
     With tearing pain Time howled. The warriors were answering her call, yet he could not move. Before him the clouds curled and swirled, emerging among the emptiness, engulfing the stars. He wondered if the call was a memory long gone by.
     With his last strength, he cried into the heaven, “Make it yesterday.”
     Wind howled. Nothing replied.
     Bitter raindrops fell down about him. He could not breathe. There is nothing that he should expect, and nothing that expects him in his fall. Let go. Down, down, and down into the deep drowning darkness, he allowed his body to fall.
     “I am who I am!” He heard is past boasted.
     He squeezed his eyes shut.
     “I want to change.” He heard it dream.
     Tears streamed down upon his cheeks.
     Once his joyous hair danced with the breeze; once his eyes flickered with the endless blue; once, when the world was young, he remembered strength and courage. There was light and music, and laughs of his brothers.
     Time is near.
     “Make it stop!” He howled.
     Wind twirled and twisted. They roared at his vanity. Far away from the space and time the storm reached out to his form of nothingness. He gazed into the dark without his eyes, as a thousand wind pierced through his fall.
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     Then all ceased. The beginning and the end met. He saw Time once again.
     She did not look back.
     As elegant and careless as she had always been, she passed by, dissolving all into dreams. They left with the wind, leaving no trails of her presence. Yet he was still there, imprisoned in the past long gone by.
     ​Pride shattered; his image clustered into memories. Like an ancient thinker he dropped his knees, mourning over the shattered pieces, embracing them. Pieces of the past pierced into his skin. As he reached out for the shattering images, he saw them transverse, and disappear－they were only lies that he had once created.