The Lost Souls

Prologue

I'm a lost little demon. I sin and I sin, and I lose myself even more. Every time, I want to do good but it's in me to sin. Doing good is good. Wholesome and warm. Doing bad is cold, dark, evil. It makes me sick. But I can't stop. I have an addiction to sin.

The rain shatters my darkened soul and drenches me. It's cold and uninviting. Like a slap across the face. It's not kind rain which spatters on your window, fat teardrops rolling down the glass. No. This rain roars in my ears like screams. It hits my legs with its sobs. It's like when the water goes cold in the shower half way through getting the soap out of your hair. It chills your bones with its icy fingers.

My lips tremble for so many reasons. They tremble for being lost. They tremble for the sorrow I feel inside. They tremble from my addiction to sin and hurt. They tremble because the rain is so cold it hurts. They tremble but I can't feel them anymore. My cold, numb lips need warm ones.

The wind is putting cracks into my skin. Cold, dry cracks. They're hard to get rid of. But At least they're not as cracked as my face. My face is full of cracks, because it's a broken mask now. I can't protect myself anymore, the wind got to me cracked me. The tears which roll down my eyes try to mend those cracks. But I've never known my tears to have healing powers. I'm broken beyond repair.

My feet bleed. Ghost white and watery red. The floor prickles my skin with sharp corners. It's so cold, I only know the watery red is coating my feet because I can see it. Dripping into the cracks of the uneven floor and making a muddy looking brown. My hair sticks to my shirt and the shirt sticks to my skin.

The moon is up, awake for the night. It stares me right in the eye. It's so close. I've never been this close to it. I feel, if I extended my arm out, I could touch it. It stares knowingly, right into my eyes. It knows. It knows all my secrets. It looks so disappointed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't stop sinning. It drops its head low and disappears soon behind a mist of clouds. Now I'm alone.

A tree snaps. It gives into the power of the wind. The strong, cold breeze pulls it from its roots. From everything that poor little tree knew. It's been ripped cruelly. The leaves fall off its wrecked body and into puddles where they wrinkle like souls.

Someone stands behind me, so close behind me. Smiling. It's a victory. Its victory is my downfall. Fair is fair. I just loved the sinning too much to let it go. I couldn't let go of sin. Sin is what I love. Was it clever to give up everything worthwhile and wholesome? Maybe not. I can't remember. I only know and remember how to sin.

The view is beautiful. The sea is never ending. It smacks itself against the side of the rock and falls back down into the depths of itself. I probably could have conducted my life better if I was born as sea foam. Can sea foam sin?

"Jump," The air whispers. Blowing wet leaves into my cheek and coating my knuckles with dead souls. I should jump. My last sin. My most significant sin. What a way to go. Such a beautiful sin it'll be. I just want to touch the moon before I go. I've never been so close. It's here again, staring in horror. I'd just like to touch it. It's so beautiful.

I lean on cut up tiptoes; I close my eyes with a faltering blink and a tremble of the lips. I lift my arm up and stretch my fingertips.

It feels like I'm holding someone's hand A hand which could pull me up and take me somewhere nice. A lifeline. But I don't want to go somewhere nice, it's not who I am. It's a cold hand, but not the same cold of the rain. It's a cold hand which makes you feel grateful for warmth. Touching the moon is not what I thought it'd be. It's powerful. But it cannot stop the power behind this last sin. I will fulfil it. I will throw myself to the sin.

The rain beats my face, the wind fights me back. I thought you wanted this for me? You were pushing me forward, now you push me away. Away from my sin.

But you can't. It's too late; time is such a beautiful thing. And my time is over. My last sin, I hope it's as beautiful as I imagined it to be. "It will be beautiful," the victor says, reassuringly. Okay. I believe it will be then. I always wanted to die in a tragically beautiful way.

My feet shuffle, until there is no more floor underneath me. I feel like I'm floating. My feet in tiptoes, my back arched and my head thrown back, my arms upraised. I feel like it lasts forever. That one single moment. I've slowed down the time. I stay up there, the highest I've ever been. My soul watches inside me, staring at our height. It's amazing isn't it? I feel graceful.

But the waves will claim me. I can't stay up here forever. The best moments are those which happen quickly but can be remembered for eternity. The frost on the waves jabs at me, it stings. This sea has been touched by the wind. It's colder than the rain. Blacker than my soul. It locks around my throat like a snowman's hands. I can smile now, I can laugh. I can drown. I don't know how to swim.

It's nearly over. The journey is over. I've found what I've come to. I know what I am and what I will never be. I've come to self-realization. I'm drifting off. To a sleep I will never open my eyes from. I fall, but the cries of someone beautiful ring in my ears.