Hollow Hearts

I had always been a selfish man – even back then, when I had a face and an actual name to put to it. I don't remember what I used to look like now, it's been too long and I have no particular wish to reminisce about my former image.

My name was lost as well as the person it represented. Good, I already detest my existence as it is. Because even though I can't remember, I think I'll never be able to forget the sound and smell of carnivals and grant feasts, entertained of many kinds, even those that were unsavory. I could tell by those faded imprints of memory that I used to be a well-off spirit, or whatever I had been before becoming this thing. I used to be spoiled, always having my way, always receiving that which I desire the moment the wish left my mouth.

Not anymore. My face is a mask of blankness, my mouth sealed shut so only grunts and gurgles escaped from it. I am thin and frail now, empty like a hollow tree waiting for the wind to blow it over, to crash to the ground and let the earth eat away at me until I am no more.

I ate my own heart, truth be told and it seemed fitting – that a glutton such as I would swallow his own heart whole. There was nothing to content me now, no servants waiting on my every whim, no voice to ask the simplest of questions: why? What had I done to deserve this? Why was I like this? Who did this to me? I did it to myself, obviously, though I was blind and spoiled and there was always someone else to blame for my own failures and misfortune. I was a wretched little brat, and now a hollow monster who was never really full.

Thus, I wandered, searching – for what? Even I knew not. Sometimes haunting this place and that, with no real desire to stay, for I knew from all my roaming that no one would give me shelter from the rain or accept me and eventually, I was proven right every time.

That is, until I was proven wrong.

I had first caught glimpse of her on the bridge, and there was something very amusing about seeing a spirit smuggling a human into a public bathhouse, but beyond that, I had thought that I would never see her or her companion again. But then, there she was, pouring a bucket of cleaning water out into the garden. And when she spotted me, sitting there with no intention or purpose, there was no usual disdain or even alarm if recognition flared in her eyes – neither, just confusion and – was that concern?

It was shocking to have that emotion directed at me, after so long I could not even fully recognize it for what it was.

Then, she left the door open – wide open! She invited me in, kindly and patiently, for she had work to do but still would not leave me out in the cold. She was concerned if I'd catch a cold, what a foolish human!

But I had grown intrigued with her now, so, as always, when someone offered something to me, I wanted more.

I raved the bathhouse, ate to my heart's content, but as every other time before this one, nothing filled the hollow of my being. That's when she popped into my head again. I wanted to see her, her concerned face and kind brown eyes, speaking warm words of invitation and acceptance.

She came, the little human girl named Sen, after quite a few temper-tantrums and threats to several dozen employees, but she came and that was all that mattered. I could have her now. I'd give her all the gold I could conjure and all the things I could demand from my new little kingdom. I'd make her happy, I'd give her everything her little human heart could ever wish for, and she'd never leave me. She'd stay by my side with her kind words and heartwarming concern.

She refused. She refused everything I had to offer, like it was nothing!

My gift to her was refused, though I could not understand why – what more could she wish for?Her gift to me stung my tongue and burned my belly, it turned my insides up-side-down and set them aflame – how could she do this to me? Why? Why was she doing this? She was so kind before!

Her gift stung, but the betrayal stung even more. She had been so kind, so accepting and caring – was she like everyone else? Did she too, see me as only a nuisance that she wished to be rid of? Did I truly not matter, even with all the things I had to offer, all the gold in my possession?

Her face was full of horror, with wide eyes still so bright with childish innocence. Had she not seen me for what I was? I am No-Face, the monster whose hunger cannot be soothed. What had she seen when she had looked at me then? But I couldn't ask, throat burning from the thing she gave me and my own enraged, desperate shouts and accusations. How could she have done this to me?

I scared her, I could see that, and she ran away. I was the one to drive her from my side.

She ran. She ran and I couldn't let her go.

Her gift made me caught up the people I'd swallowed – to fill my own emptiness, to have a voice once more – and whatever undigested food was still in his system. I think she made me caught up my heart somewhere along the line too, because suddenly, that hollow in my soul ached for only one thing. One craving, which I had buried under layers of throwaway needs and desires I didn't truly wish for.

I wanted to be loved.

I followed her, and after all I'd done, all of his selfishness and supercilious behavior, she let me. We rode the train together in silence, broken only by the soft snores of the enchanted mouse on her shoulder and a word or two she murmured from time to time. I wasn't sure if they were meant for me, or for her own sake, or that of the little passengers atop her shoulders, or perhaps someone else entirely – but I never heard what she said, and he had no voice in which to ask.

I had lost my voice long ago, for I had always asked for too much, and now could not ask for a single thing – an apt punishment, if there ever was one.

It was nightfall by the time we made it to our destination, and an enchanted lamp lead us through the shadowy forest, before I saw a light, like a beacon, peaking from a windowsill of a small house.

A witch came to greet us, a witch that looked an awful lot like the annoying one I'd had stomped over back at the bathhouse – but in fact, was not. I had no regrets either way.

Zeniba had made tea, and even I was offered a cup – this one, I did not drown in a single gulp. I breathed in the scent first, sweet and herbal, before taking a tentative sip. I'd never scorched my tongue before, but instead of throwing it away like an arrogant child a toy he was no longer interested in, I waited for the heat to simmer. I had waited too long, because I had never had to wait for anything or anyone before, and the liquid turned cold. It was still enjoyable though, and someone had made it for me, without bribe or out of greet, so I wouldn't let it go to waste.

Sen left that day, when a dragon had landed in Zeniba's garden. I had often heard stories about the Water Gods, but never seen one before – but this one seemed young, for he was helping a human, and most would have simply ripped her apart like a rag doll – not that I would ever let them, of course. She was the one possession – uh, um – person that I wanted to keep. She left on her own accord though, and didn't even stop to say goodbye to me.

I was overlooked, for whatever reason, but again I had no voice in which to speak in, to express my wishes, my encouragements, my protests, to voice my affections and thanks. Maybe she was resentful towards me for what I'd done (but she let me come with her!), or perhaps she hadn't noticed the deformed spectrum lurking by Zeniba's door (but she was the first one to actually notice me and care!) or maybe there was someone else on her mind, and she simply forgot me (this, I cannot argue, no matter how bitter it makes me).

Zeniba cared though, else she would have demanded I get lost by now, but instead she offered me a place as her assistant, a place in her home – where both the enchanted mouse and fly could come in their true forms. I was accepted, finally, and there were no words in which I could tell them how grateful I was.

Sen left. The girl with a round, kind face and awed brown eyes, rode off on her dragon into the sunset (well, sunrise) like in one of those cheesy stories from the human world, and I knew I'd most likely never see her again.

It's ironic really, that the girl who gave me back my heart, toward me, felt almost nothing in her own.

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