Six word story: Definition of Light

Light; the first shade of darkness.

The devil and I

So the devil whispers to me

in my darkest hours,

luring me to sell my soul

in exchange for

a permanent peace of mind.

And I’m almost tempted to give in.

But I’ve been there once before,

and I know it’s not a simple transaction.

It’s a prolonged contract of pure misery,

I’m already swamped in this state of agony,

But it could be the perfect distraction;

a slave for the red-headed devil

rather than being … well, I don’t know what I am

in the eyes of the black-winged demon I have loved.

I sign the contract and seal it

with the love I have made with this ugly beast.

Captivity

Invisible heavy shackles wrapped around her wrists; cuffs.

Led by the Head of the Demons himself.

She might be detained, but the chains are loose, as if she has her freedom but her body refuses to follow anyone but him.

Any physical torture? No. Any physical anything? Barely – that’s the problem, she thought.

Ever heard of someone who was held captive and wanted to beg their captor to pull that chain so they’d be closer?

This is not a case of Stockholm syndrome, for she was the one who turned herself in to sacrifice her own soul.

He took her in, thinking she could entertain him for a while, but she was persistent, and he let her go.

“Why?”, she asked, “I don’t understand”.

And you don’t need to. All you need to do is leave. There is no place here for a good-for-nothing vessel who’s soul I have already devoured. Your role here is done.” he replied with no hesitation.

“At least a part of me resides within you, somewhere, lingering, when I physically could not.” she smiled and turned around.

Invisible cuffs, chains that extended vastly, and an unbreakable bond that she couldn’t sever, hoping one day he’d close this distance that she hated so much.

Hope? With a demon, eh? Ah, well I guess that’s my punishment for the sin I’ve committed, she thought,

I fed a demon. I fell in love with one so shamelessly. I still refuse to cut off the only thing that ties me to him. This is my atonement, living through this hell of a life without him, a million miles away. 

Take shelter in the darkness.

The sadness swept in

like the wind in a lonely night,

peaking through the holes

of the broken windows

and moulded walls,

bringing in the cold and dirt.

Despair shined in

like a curious torch,

looking for treasure and goods,

but only to find ruins and unwanted fragments

of an abandoned heart.

Wrap yourself in the shadows. 

Take shelter in the darkness.

Shut your eyes and cover your ears. 

Let the dusky air shun away the world

that left you behind.

“…looking at the stars always makes me dream.”

I confess I do not know why, but looking at the stars always makes me dream.” – Vincent Van Gogh.

I know why, Vincent.

The stars are faraway.

Shining in the distance.

Some shine brighter than others.

Some shine before others.

Some shine all through the night.

Some fade mid-way.

Some guide humans into the right path.

Overall, they all exist. Stars exist.

You can’t always see them,

but you eventually do.

You might lose sight off them when it’s too dark.

It might be too cold, too windy, too cloudy for you to look up and gaze at the illuminating sky.

it might be time for the sun to awaken and fulfil its duty.

But you eventually meet the stars,

even if they are miles away.

Dreams are like that.

I look at the stars and I dream too, Vincent.

Because dreams are like stars.

I’d like to think that no matter how much distance I have left to reach my dreams, they still exist, just like the stars.

Sometimes it becomes all blurry and dark and I lose motivation,

but the next day, week, or month I can still get up and fight.

I can still look up at my stars and dream.

I can still gaze into my bright existing future, Vincent.

This is why, Vincent.

This is my why.

The Fallen Angel of the Darkest Sins.

His wings held the darkest curses

Of the seven underworlds.

Six feet tall, 

Ten feet wide,

And seven thick layers

Of deep ebony pennons.

A feather falling from him

Into your bare hands

Would stain your soul 

Or manipulate your destiny,

That no matter how pure 

You try to be, this bad luck 

Will always interfere until

You accept the black mark 

His feather has made on you.

You might have already judged

That he is the devil himself,

But that, he is definitely not.

He is an angel, a fallen one too.

He bore the sins of the world 

Burdened himself 

With the shadows and

Deepest untold secrets

That shifted the light into coal.

His appearance is that of a Raven

In human form.

Dusky onyx coloring

His eyes, hair and clothes.

Maintaining these curses solely

For far too long

Is the job he volunteered to do.

For he loved a sinner,

A Demon, they had called her.

She bore the sins of lust and greed,

That led her to her deathbed.

To repent his sin for not falling

On Earth

Earlier than he did 

To save her soul,

He decided to fall 

After he lost his beloved

And hold the sins of all.

But he did not know the extent 

Of the darkness that lies 

In this universe.

He did not know it could be

Impossible.

He did not understand that 

Once a cup is full, 

It will overflow;

His feathers started to fall off

So he could endure 

The rest of the darkness.

So, fellow humans,

If you happen to encounter

A black feather

And the curse starts to run 

Through your vessels,

Please remember the burdens 

An angel had to handle until now

And carry it for him. 

Fight the dark temptations

But please carry it for him.