Looking Back by Doug Klein
What is it that I have become? The mirror no longer reflects an image I can recognize. Was this always inside me, lying dormant? Just waiting, stalking, with patience unyielding? Perhaps. Perhaps.
Innocence lost can never be returned. It leaves with the thunderous gale that is the tempest of life. The question that still sits in the recesses of my mind is always "Did I hold tight to what I was, or did I let it go as soon as the wind began to blow?" The answer eludes. Prey this predator may never catch.
So here stands the creature I have become. Screams and shattered dreams placed ornately along the path I have taken to this point. Such is the path of the damned. So far along that now I pass the devils that seek redemption. I walk past them, my eyes fixed on the bleak horizon. The devils look over their shoulder to make sure I haven't begun to follow. For if I did, they would not make it far at all.
How long had it been? Years? Days? Eons? It does not matter much, I suppose. The path I walk bends in on itself like the twisted knots of a noose as it become slack. The blood on my hands still drips as fresh as its memory within my mind, but it seems to have lost its shine. So, I place my hands in my pockets, and whistle an old tune I heard in a place I was a long time ago. The song itself has no meaning to me, but I found the melody met well with the shadows that walk alongside me. They stay a stride behind, and even that is a risk.
Is it the gates I seek? Do I expect them to open as I arrive, like a king entering his court? I am no king, I have no crown to bear. Perhaps there are no gates, no signs that I have even entered their domain. Am I there now? I still walk, so it must not be so.
Ah, they have finally come. Those that would see me cower in fear. To shake and shudder at their sheer presence, to feel their icy grip as they send chills down my spine. Ha! I stop and stand in place for but a moment. My hands find their way back to my side, and my fingers begin to dance through the air. They will find no fear, not here, not anymore. Only a fight they were not ready for. Only a man who takes a demon by the heart and does not let go. Their talons rake the ground and sky, clawing at the fabric of our surroundings. Let them wail and toil over their own insecurities. I have no time for their childish ways.
The gates. They are here. Broken and uninspired, but here they stand. Hot to the touch, the blood boils on my skins as I push through. No warm welcome. No grand entrance. I enter like a vagrant from the storm. Here stands the place I have been seeking.
How do you get here? It was a question I had asked an eternity before. Quizzical looks aside, they told me and laughed. I was never good with humor. Not sure if it was a joke or not, but damn did it work. I am here now. Here to finish what must be done.
The walls of the inferno bear down around me. The heat scalds and burns without remorse. It does not matter much now. Pain has been an essential part of each step I have taken. I had to kill to unlock this road. I had to let myself go, and fall into the unrelenting darkness. It swept away all I was and left me a husk. It was a necessity.
He has come. He looks angry. But then again, how could he not be? I had walked here with no resistance. My future was his end. Too much evil had gone unchecked. So, I did what I must. I gained a touch of evil within myself, and walked the path of the damned to the place where the Devil resides. Now that I am here, it can begin. His time is over. There is no looking back. Nowhere left to go. With these blood-stained hands, I will dig the devil's grave.
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