Me: *has writer's block for this story* We could do tha… no, no… ooh, ooh, we… no, too boring… *lands on an awesome idea* YES! YEEESSS! Neighbor: *knocks on door* Is everything alright in there? Me: *opens door but doesn't invite Neighbor in like the introvert I am* Huh? Yeah, just writing… Neighbor: OOH what are you writing are you going to publish it you know I have this friend who knows a guy who has a friend who published a book they can get you in contact with somebody— Me: It's fanfiction… Neighbor:…well then you might be like EL James and publish it with different names and stuff and— Me: *in my head* Gods be merciful, please no! *out loud* Oh, goodness, I am so sorry but I just remembered my cousin's hosting her son's birthday party in five minutes! Neighbor: Oh, alrigh— Me: *runs to the nearest coffeeshop with laptop and books and headphones*
No, I'm not kidding. That is exactly how horrible I am in unprepared-for, unexpected social situations.. But anyways, enjoy! Or cry, I kind of did that while writing…
It was dark. The only sound was a faint, pulsing rush, soft and soothing. There used to be a bigger pulsing, a deep beating, that had been held close but had now been silent for an eternity.
What was eternity?
There was no one to explain it. But if it must be explained, some may suppose it meant endless seconds, minutes, hours spent alone, in darkness, knowing nothing but that darkness and the soothing pulse. Sometimes other consciousnesses brushed against the walls of this confinement, but they were dull and unremarkable. They did not know what it was to be held in this silent eternity; they would not understand if told.
Until one day, a presence so unique and unlike all others who came before it gave up a hint of their soul. It was a soul that had been tortured and beaten down, had nearly lost hope, but still somehow held on to that strange concept like a fluttering, wispy lifeline.
What was a lifeline? What was hope?
There was no one to explain it, but they somehow explained themselves.
Suddenly there was more sound, after the Soul. Murmurs beyond these tight walls made themselves known; light came forth through the walls, red and bloody. Bloody? What is bloody? A voice, cold, cruel: I shall break you, and you shall be mine long after the world crumbles and time falls apart! Another voice, answering: Even if you break me, I will fight you every second I can. Not even you can eradicate your own weaknesses and faults.
Light shifted and changed, and the walls became tighter and tighter as sounds grew clearer and light grew brighter. Strange shadows moved beyond those walls; a strange reluctance to leave made itself known. But it was overpowered by excitement and hope and needing to see that outer oblivion that seemed so full of life, compared to the tiny, cramped universe that had been here since time began.
Well, it didn't used to be cramped, in the beginning—there had been the soft feeling of motion when the world had once turned, over and over again and again. But then the world had stilled, had slowly grown tighter, and now it was unbearable and Freedom was at hand and Freedom must be HERE!
The world was made of light. But there was also a shadow, a nasty Evil that hung over everything; it hung over his Soul like a threat. His Soul stared at him, wide-eyed, grief and pain and fear battling with the simple joy of being his Soul.
Thorn did not want his Soul to feel pain.
He tried to protect his Soul from the Evil.
But then the Evil made them scream.
And then the Evil took away Freedom.
…I think I might actually cry because of what I just wrote.
I apologize if you're in your room, sitting on your bed, hugging yourself and rocking back and forth (or sitting in your mind, rocking back and forth, too shell-shocked for physical activity), because Thorn's baby dragon mind is too innocent for words and/or Galbatorix is a very bad man who is an old, alone and done-for codfish. *slyly references three different Peter Pan movies in one sentence*
But honestly, thank you for reading and (hopefully!) reviewing.
Fate