All things are possible, even the worst of things.
Once, his life had been very black and white. Good was good and evil was evil. As a naïve child, it had been only one or the other. At least, until a plain chestnut mare had stumbled into him in this very meadow and challenged his ideas about life. Had forced him see that shades of gray exist. And they had become the closest of friends then.
But he thinks that perhaps he had not truly seen. He had not truly understood what she was trying to tell him. He is a murderer now, and everything has changed. He has changed. He does not see the world in the same light, others do not exist in the same space as they had before.
He had been so stupid when he was young.
Liar, she calls him. He jerks his head back, surprised by her vehemence. He is a liar, but he cannot admit that now. The shadows push and he pushes back. He is so caught up in his internal war that he doesn’t notice when she disappears. When she reappears at his side, her demand for an apology ringing in the air. He flinches away from her touch, ears flattening against his poll.
He is confused and frustrated, foisted into a world he does not know and does not want, drawn to the darkness like a drunkard craves alcohol. And now she is here, demanding he concede, demanding he accept his fate.
Why?
The word is torn from his throat, reverberating in the air like a gunshot. His wild gaze fixes on her, pushing back against her in the same way that she had pushed him.
Why do they like me?
But he thinks that perhaps he had not truly seen. He had not truly understood what she was trying to tell him. He is a murderer now, and everything has changed. He has changed. He does not see the world in the same light, others do not exist in the same space as they had before.
He had been so stupid when he was young.
Liar, she calls him. He jerks his head back, surprised by her vehemence. He is a liar, but he cannot admit that now. The shadows push and he pushes back. He is so caught up in his internal war that he doesn’t notice when she disappears. When she reappears at his side, her demand for an apology ringing in the air. He flinches away from her touch, ears flattening against his poll.
He is confused and frustrated, foisted into a world he does not know and does not want, drawn to the darkness like a drunkard craves alcohol. And now she is here, demanding he concede, demanding he accept his fate.
Why?
The word is torn from his throat, reverberating in the air like a gunshot. His wild gaze fixes on her, pushing back against her in the same way that she had pushed him.
Why do they like me?
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch