The night was warm, and the air was wet and heavy with a rain that wouldn’t come. It lingered, teasing him with a false promise, a lie. Or maybe it was just a lie he told himself to make the run easier. His body always had a hard time with it and a little rain would have helped cool him down as he ran.
With a final stretch he pulled at his left calf, it was the last stretch before his midnight run. The evening heat and humidity could be felt in his bones, like it was sapping his strength more than usual. In the far distance inter cloud lighting strikes light up the sky for a moment only to fade away, only to reappear and then another and another, fast and rapid. Like a dying light trying desperately to say on.
“Another microburst, well the rain will make this easier”, he whispered to no one. Again, the same lie he knew, but saying it would make the run easier. Lying to himself always did.
Finishing the stretches, he stood up straight, his face seemed far older than it should be. A lonely man in his early 30s or maybe late 40s? What did it matter. Weak with apathy, beaten not some much by life, but by his own failed machinations.
What could be said about him besides, it was always his fault.
He wanted to be better, he wished it almost every day of his life. To be better, to be strong enough to be better, and even to truly want to be better. You see, wishing alleviated the need to actually be better. It was sufficient to say you want change without ever actually having to change. In truth, he knew that if he really wanted to be different, he would. It was a choice not to.
It was always his fault.
But tonight, he would try. It wasn’t his first night run, not even close. He had been focused on this one thing, trying to build something from the rotten rubble he had made of his life. Well, that’s not completely fair, he did have a job, owned a house, had a few degrees even. All made possible by a family that wasn’t there anymore.
One foot in front of the other, he began to move. A meaningless goal ahead of him, a meaningless life behind him.
It was always his fault.
He had abandoned them, and the rest disappeared. They were all he had, and he just ignored them. When his father was dying in the hospital, his family almost didn’t tell him. Of course, when they did he dropped everything to visit a waking corpse that wasn’t even aware. Dropping his freshman year exams, he had dug a hole he would never fill, to fulfill a son’s promise that was already broken. Though that isn’t fair, that academic hole was already dug. Even without the exams he had been failing his courses anyway. It was wrong to blame his failures on anything but himself.
Each step seemed to take more energy than the last. ‘It should get easier, shouldn’t it?’ he thought to himself or at least he should be getting stronger?
He still managed to graduate, somehow. Pulling loans, and the last money his family gave him. Even made it a point to go back later in life and get another degree, because what else was he supposed to do?
Thoughts continued to pile on him. His mother, the call he got that day, she was sick. She was dying, though of course they didn’t say those words, but it was obvious. He should have visited her. Of course, she wasn’t there anymore to visit; 40% blood oxygen isn’t really alive. But he should have visited her anyway. It would have hurt, but then again everything hurts.
It was always his fault.
Oxygen.
That was what his body desperately needed. He could feel it, his blood and muscle burned from the buildup of lactic and carbonic acid, and carbon that wasn’t being carried away properly.
Why did it hurt this much?
After her death, there was nothing. His extended family just disappeared. He was never close with them but, not even a single condolence? He knew it was his fault. He should have been there and wasn’t, he should have visited more and he just didn’t.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He felt his chest squeeze tighter, as he continued to run. There was no point stopping, he was so close to that useless goal he had set for himself. It was something to strive for, something small and utterly pointless, but it was still something.
It was always his fault.
Even before all that, when they were alive and he was still so young, he could remember hurting them. He had always been different, not in the normal way that people are different but in his own twisted way. He saw things that others didn’t, could feel things that others missed, and he didn’t understand. Or maybe that was the excuse he used. How many times had those two cried because of him, hurt because of him. He always knew it was his fault. He would have given anything to undo the damage he did. To undo his existence, but of course he couldn’t. The only reason they were ever together anyway was because of him.
It was always his fault.
There was no one waiting for him back home. No, home wasn’t the right word. Back at the house, at the place with his bed and little else. Alone, but too proud to admit it or admit he wanted someone else in his life. He’d argue if had truly wanted it, he would have had it. No, what truly wanted was something all of us really wanted, a family and a place where to belong. Something he could never have, something he felt he never deserved.
It was always his fault.
He did have his ideas, dreams, and thoughts. Maybe given a second chance he would have done things differently, maybe his machinations would have amount something special. He used to dream of the stars, of humanity’s future, his future. Not that it mattered any more, this life was long since spent.
‘It was always my fault.’
The words echoed in his head as his vision narrowed. He couldn’t feel his hands, but that didn’t matter. It was so close.
It was always his fault.
He knew he should do something. Something was wrong with him, physically. But he was so close to that negligible and pathetic goal.
“You are a strange one.” Words seemed to echo in his head. They didn’t feel like his. But an Oxygen starved brain would hallucinate.
He knew what was coming, and if he was honest, he welcomed it. It’s why he didn’t stop. However, the muscles in his chest did.
“Of all of you, you would just give up without fighting? Maybe that’s why the others call you a minor soul instead of great one.” The voice again. His voice maybe? No.
Everything was darkening. His legs didn’t want to move. He could feel his chest, he could feel it twitch as it tried desperately to get him those last few meaningless feet. It didn’t matter though.
“Here I found you, in your last moments in this forsaken world. I wonder… What would you do if given another chance? If I gave you that chance, would you fight us again or maybe this time for fight us…”
His right leg just stopped moving, his muscles unable to contract anymore. Momentum took over and he finally fell to the ground.
‘I was so close. Just one victory…’ He didn’t need to close his eyes for the darkness to overcome him.
“The others will fight me on this, but I want to see what you build. I want to see what you build, for us. For me. Your cage you will build, your chains you will hold, because if you let them go you will lose everything again.” Again, that voice? He didn’t really understand why, but he hated it. Like a deep quite part of him knew it.
But that didn’t matter, it was over… Just dark, and the rumble of distant thunder, and rain that would finally come, just a little too late.
The feeling of wetness on his skin, maybe the rain? The loud banging but not thunder, it sounded too wet. Like a heartbeat. What was this?
Warm and Cold. He could faintly hear yelling and screaming. A woman? What was left of his mind danced with the possibility, was this his descent into hell?
“Drukin!”
“Haaaa~!”
“Drukin, Lillith! DRUKIN!”
The words didn’t make any sense, was it the last throws of his dying mind?
Suddenly all the warmth disappeared, just a faint coolness surrounded him. Like he had stepped out of a warm shower. There were lights and colors all around him, but everything was so fuzzy, so hard to see.
“Blawst, nass. Hoo, nass…” More words that didn’t make sense.
A small part of his mind felt like he should cry out.
“Ahsa. Baba” The words wouldn’t come, it was like he couldn’t control his vocal cords and tongue, like nothing in his body connected right anymore. Nothing fit together anymore.
“Ha- Hainer! Hainer sann! Lillith!!” The man’s voice was yelling. Boarding on screaming. Through the fuzzy vision, he could almost make out their forms, a man with a thick but short beard, and a woman with long black hair? It was so hard to tell.
More yelling and scream from the man, but the woman remained silent.
He couldn’t see, he couldn’t tell but she was studying him. Looking him in over in disbelief.
“Chi ma nos gelfin. Fortus. Chi… Nos.” The woman spoke, so softly. She had been screaming, yelling, her face still red and flush, sweat dripped from her brow. But the voice, he couldn’t let go of it. It sounded like the voice of someone he never thought he would hear again.
‘Mom?’ he thought. He felt very tired for some reason. This had to be the last visage of his existence before he faded out of it. Just an oxygen starved fever dream.
Right?