Performing the Warrior
I remember being forced into the darkness, my eyes adjusting. Without light the world exists in a blurry mess of gray and black figures blending together into a flurry of nothing recognizable. I'm stumbling, I'm feeling my way around. I am but a small spec against a sea of shadows. I hear it. I'm running. It's loud, it's aggressive, it's begging for attention. It’s screaming or maybe I'm screaming, I can't tell. It's hot. I'm afraid. I'm small, confused, and lost. It's angry.
I'm older now, It’s still dark but I've almost forgotten the light. My days are clockwork, filled with the constant static of a bad television signal. I hear it growling less now, sometimes I see little red eyes popping out against the blackness. I've adapted. I have other things to do, other things to focus on. I'm learning to fight and protect myself. I'm learning how to exist on my own in a world that's not so kind, in a world where I am blind.
Sometimes I miss life before the monster got away, when it was still in my care. I remember loving it and nurturing this creature that was a part of me. Before it got turned against me. Before. Before it was light. There were colors, smells, sights so beautiful that it would make you cry. I remember would play, running through the fields watching butterflies disperse and flowers bloom. I remember.
Finally, we fight. I'm stronger now, even older, wiser. The battle is bloody and cruel. The clanging of metal and cries of pain. Exasperated sighs. Heavy breathing. Suddenly I'm being dragged into the light, plucked from the darkness. I can't see, there's a ringing in my ears. At some point I adjust and I see it. It too was forced into the light by cruel hands, the hands that disposed of us in the first place. It’s scared. It's disgusting. Matted fur, bloodshot eyes, claws bent and broken, bones showing through skin on its chest, its panting, its wheezing, its bleeding, I made it bleed, its crying, hair wet against its face. We sit. Staring at each other. It doesn't recognize me.
There it is. My childhood. Now before me broken and beaten by a cruel world. It was pulled away from me and tortured. This lovable thing that I had protected and cared for, broken. I want to fix it, I want to take it back to how it was before. Before it was dark. I crawl over and hesitantly reach out, but it shoves away and curls within itself turning its back against me. I'm angry, I'm heartbroken, but I get it. We can’t go back to how it was before.
Copyright © Aidan Mckinnon | Year Posted 2022
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