HIDDEN

The boy sits alone, pondering the meaning of his existence and wondering why everything 
turned out the way it did.  How could this be?  This insane dream that'd slowly seeped its 
way into his head was now encompassing his thoughts in entirety.  He tries not to focus on 
it; not to dwell on negative, perhaps 'bad' things just like everyone told him.  The attempt
 is futile.  Gradually, the pain and confusion slowly ebbs away, trailing into a decorative
 void of nothing- or maybe everything.  At first he cannot tell, he is uncertain if he even
 wants to at this point.  For some reason although he has no idea where he's headed the 
sudden release is welcome.  
	
Suddenly the surroundings change.  The 'walls' become swirls of grays and blacks and all 
life seems to vanish.  He sees visions of a pleading person on their knees, looking at him 
with a shadowy face.  He is appalled by the sight and turns away, back in the direction from
 which he allegedly came.  The last fading view of the world slips away in a wisp of color.
  This cannot be!  Was he lured into some sort of surreal hell or perhaps forced?  Is there
 no escape?  He whirls around again and to his horror he gazes upon the pleading figure and
 sees...himself.

He begins running in no particular direction.  He has no destination, no ideas, no hope - 
only desperation.  He has to get away from this vision, this place, this existence.  Somehow
 he knows that running will not save him but he pushes himself harder.  After a ways he 
leans over, wheezing, alone.  Suddenly he hears a voice, a familiar one.  Looking up he sees
 one of his closest friends looming over him.  He extends his hand slowly and the boy takes
 it.  "Shit," the boy pants, "am I glad to see you".  They begin walking for a moment until
 they come to a ledge overlooking a vast field of flame and horrid landscape.  His friend
 motions for him to look and he does.  

He sees waves of people, all the people he'd known in his last life that he was a part of.
  They were all laughing at him, mocking him.  Even from their distance their looks and
 words hurt like pins through his heart.  Why?  Why are you showing me this?  Turning away
 in bitter disgust, he looks to his friend for some sort of support.  He becomes
 uncomfortable at the grin he is greeted with.  It is evil, conniving and somehow
 contemptuous.  His eyes dart up and he sees the glint of steel just as it plunges downward
 into his chest.  Burning waves of pain shoot throughout his torso, the thunderous laughter
 of his friend and perhaps the entire world ringing in his ears.  He feels his body being
 shoved, but he suddenly has no strength to resist.  As he falls from the ledge toward the
 climbing flames, he can hear the laughter all around him, barely even human.  It sounds to
 him like a thousand banshees cluttered within his head, all clawing their way into his
 brain.  His entire body hurts, bubbles and burns in the heat of his own sins and contempt. 

Suddenly he is in his room again, staring blankly off into space.  His mother leans over 
him, gently asking what's wrong.  He seems as though he can't hear her; a far off and 
distant look upon his face.  He makes no move to respond, merely continues to stare as if 
focusing on something.  She sympathetically tells him not to dwell on whatever is getting
 him down, but he cannot hear her words.  She asks what it is he is thinking about but he stares. 
Fire burns in his eyes, a part of him died long ago yet a part of him remains 
indignant.  She nor anyone else can never know, never guess the extent that he endures every
 moment of his existence.  The pain had become his own, and this twisted, hidden dream had
 become his reality.


July 14, 2001
11:54 PM