username + number :: Ucanthandleme + 809102
kalon name :: Alvah
prompt ::
Alvah glanced at the glass in hand, its fragile exterior held wonderful colours, shades of blues and purple mottled together in perfect harmony. Light shone through the glass illuminating the walls with it’s patchwork pattern. Alvah held the glass closely until the light could not reach it and watched as shadows of grey crept up and the walls until they no longer held colour from before. Sneering he threw the glass to the floor letting it shatter under his foot. ‘Crunch’, he pressed his foot down onto the broken shards, smiling as he did so. ‘Crunch, crunch, crunch’, again and again his feet landed on the glass yet his face still held a smile.
Dancing, he was dancing on the shards now, his hair was wild and free, twisting to and fro with each movement. Perhaps in his head he heard a sound, a tune, a hymn, a wonderful rhythm that compelled him to dance on shards of glass. Soon his smile became wider, his movements becoming more vigorous with each step he took. Then laughter bubbled out his lip, one would find it hard to tell if he was laughing from happiness or sadness, perhaps he himself did not know. Yet he still kept dancing, his arms open wide while laughter bubbled from his lips. He could no longer feel pain, pain of the flesh.
Alvah looked down at his feet that danced on the broken glass. Why? Why could he not feel at all? No connection to the mortal world. He has to feel, feel the pain to know he's alive. So he kept dancing, his feet gliding along the shards back and forth. He smiled and laughed. Again and again he turned his hair slapping the sides of his face. With every turn his heart became colder and colder, his laughter became louder and louder until he himself did not know if he was laughing or screaming. Then he realized as tears fell down his cheek, he was crying. The dance had stopped. He gently wiped the tears from his cheeks but they kept falling like a stream.
Trickling down they stained his collar, salty and damp. He slumped down his hand clasping at the shards. No sting, no wound, nothing. His hand remained crystal clear so did his feet which had danced along them for the longest of time. Perhaps he still felt pain. He felt it in his heart like a fiery wound had been cut into his chest. He wished he felt the pain elsewhere, anywhere would be better than the pain he felt right now. The pain of the heart. Sneering he stood up, the tears dried on his cheeks, the glass around him now ground to dust. He smiled, this time more gentle but empty. Perhaps the pain in his heart was good. At least he knows he’s still alive. A small connection to the past even though it hurt.
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