OTHERWORLD

The candle flame shifts   

    reveals

human form in its red center

room swirls into mist

My call to the Otherworld 

Answered

Cian    flame in human form 

  collapsed against a stone wall 

knees up forearms resting on them 

sword dangling from fingers tip dragging the ground

long, red hair hangs down either side of his face in sweaty strings 

face and arms dirty 

knuckles bloody

Weariness and defeat oozes from him

What does The Seeker want with me?

I want to know who you are

His head lolls against the stone wall and a smirk plays across his wide mouth

Do any of us truly know who we are?

You’re the hero the warrior 

You should know

He wipes the back of his hand across his face   lets it fall to his lap

 I wouldn’t know 

Then how am I supposed to know?

It is said The Seeker knows the heart of men 

can see that which is unseen 

I suppose that means you only need to look at me to know me 

I wave my hand   

you are strong

long suffering 

fight even when you are tired 

and hopeless 

because you must

With great difficulty Cian rose     pushing against the wall for support

Tired Hopeless Beat down

He sheaths his sword

Why must I be pushed to my breaking point? 

Why am I always in the corner? 

A man’s character comes out when he has his back to the wall. 

And when no one is looking? When there are no big battles? 

Does this version of me have no merit to you?

I stare into the candle    as though the answer 

could be found burning 

Cian comes near

his rough hands press down on the table

dirty nails 

short fingers, but strong 

fine blonde hairs that thicken as they march up his forearms 

Many say true strength is

how many times you can get knocked down 

and get up again.

This says nothing about kindness or humor 

or anything beyond determination. 

If I have nothing to lose 

no joy 

no small pleasures of life,

and sacrifice myself

what does it mean?

I’m only trading a miserable existence for the peace of the grave. 

It means nothing. 

The candlelight flickers and swims before my eyes

Did you have no joy? Was your life so bad?

You wouldn’t consider its loss a sacrifice?

I guess I meant nothing

He pushes his hair out of his face and steps back into the shadows I’m not Peter. Never was 

I am my own person, not a character based on him and until you can accept that… 

Alone again

I blow out the candle

-Melissa Reynolds