Secrets hidden in the dark nestled into the night, cloaking themselves in blackness. The lights shining in that darkness? They’re the city lights, twinkling like little ladybugs, all colorful and bright. The silence had never been this torturous before.
“Why?”
He whispered, his mind a tangled mess. Memories surged from deep, dark wells, and staying calm, staying strong like before…
“No!”
He shouted. He was still strong.
“Or am I not?”
A wolf slinked into his mind, creeping into the darkest corners. Was the sweat on his forehead from fear?
What if those shining lights were the headlights of a funeral car?
He swallowed hard; his Adam’s apple bobbed, a gurgling sound echoing in the well. He stretched out his legs, which had been pulled to his chest. In the cramped space, his feet hit the steel wall, the sound echoing, spreading across the yellow plains, bouncing off the mountains, and returning to the well.
“Your job’s done, huh guard, what do you say?”
The stupid voice had started whispering again. He began rocking back and forth quickly. With each sway, his stomach hit his half-bent knees.
He held his head in his hands.
“Shut up! Enough of your nagging like an old woman. You’ve been hounding me for years!”
The voice in his head chuckled cheekily.
“You know you wouldn’t be here without me.”
He sobbed.
“Have I ever had a moment without you? You were always there, when I cried, when I laughed, when I ran, walked, and crawled.”
“I was there when you burned, and I’ll be there when you die.”
He laughed, his laughter bouncing off the wall, finding his ear again.
“We are alone when we’re born and when we die. You can’t be with me then, and maybe I’ll find peace.”
“Your peace is me, guard. Why do you keep fighting me?”
“Maybe I enjoy it, maybe I have no one else to talk to. Maybe, maybe, and maybe. I’ll die with all these maybes.”
The voice fell silent. It always fled when his heart swelled, when he questioned himself.
“You only show up when I’m down.”
He grumbled, standing up. This place had become unbearably boring. He looked at the walls as if seeing them for the first time.
“It’s time to leave this harbor too.”
He walked towards the stairs. Tap, tap, tap...
The only habit that had lasted from the past to the present was his leather shoes.
Tap, tap, tap...
He opened the iron door with a creak. Fresh air hit his face. The darkness hit his face along with the wind. He breathed in the scent of the plains, his nostrils flaring.
He walked, dry grass crunching under his feet. Cicadas chirped in the autumn coolness. Years had passed, the same season, the same month... He let out a laugh in the silent plain.
“Should I read the anniversaries?”
“Sometimes I wonder...”
One eyebrow arched. What was with the voice leaving its sentence incomplete?
“Sometimes what?”
“Should I have left you that night?”
He stopped walking; the wind licked his face. He heard his own breathing. He stayed silent, the cicadas chirped. Frogs croaked. He stayed silent.
He started walking again, his steps angry.
“You were the last one who hadn’t left, now you go too!”
The voice fell silent, the guard fell silent. Frogs croaked. Dry grass rustled...