Short Stories

if in my silence all i have is my writing to show what i do in my head then it should be shown.

Blooded Moon

i reached the site, a stone cross. at least 10 feet long and 3 feet wide. i climbed up onto it. there was a carving outlining the entire cross. i sat and prepared myself for what i planned for my whole life. i took out my knife from my pocket and set it next to me. i stripped myself of all my clothes next. i never felt the air like this before. the cold stone made me want to get off but as i stayed longer it got warmer. i reached for the knife again and unsheathed it. flicking the blades sharp side like my dad always did. i pulled my foot up and rested it on my thigh and started. from the heel to the start of my toes, i slit. i pulled up the other foot and did it again. i stretched my legs down to the end side of the cross and laid down on my back. slicing my left hand in the air had blood dropping on my chest. it was so warm. next, my right hand i sliced. i placed the knife on my chest as i paused. it was looking. the cyclops in the sky. it had watched me my whole life. the only consistency was it. today its eye was brighter, staring more intensely. i stared endlessly at it every night in my childhood always convincing myself that one day i could get the cyclops to flinch, that my actions would be enough to stifle the giant that taunts me by being mighty. when my actions proved ineffective i scolded it. when it began to cry i screamed through the tears it poured on me and as it struck i stood taller. endlessly i shouted at the cyclops to leave me alone and it only stared back. he watched me through every breakdown through my window. in my writings he stared at me, i would hide my paper from him. i thought what does the mightiest being want to do with me. why am i the sole entertainer of the cyclops to be mocked and ridiculed as the light would fade. why me? as the blood poured from my cuts and covered the cross i felt warmth of my essence. the cuts themselves felt like gods divine touch. the burning i can only imagine as what sin being cleared feels like. every step in the wrong direction and every impure act being cleared. i looked at the cyclops again. my last words as a being less than that of the cyclops. i would soon burn brighter than the eye and reunite with the divine sun. every mockery that the cyclops put me through would be lower than me. i would be pure life essence. i would be warmth itself. i reached for my knife again and gripped the handle with both my hands. i placed the tip of the knife to the center of my chest as i stared at the cyclops. every ounce of torture that it placed me through would be cleared through my act of defiance to the cyclops. i plunged the knife deep into my chest with every pound of force i had as i stared into the eye. as the handle of the blade touched my body stopping the further defilement of my vessel and as my arms fell to the sides of this crucifix, i saw it. the cyclops blinked. its light faded. i had won. in my defiance i had caused the cyclops to leave me. i looked to my toes and saw nothing. i let my head fall to the side to view my mighty hands and saw nothing. the cyclops had guided me here. in its light emitted from that god awful eye, it guided me here. had it won again. played the fool once again i was a closed book. my story read in its entirety. the blood that kept me warm turned cold. into a cold world i was born into. i felt a hand grab my weeping body. the first warmth on my back. as i opened my eyes i was blinded by the unfamiliar light of this life. as my sight adjusted i saw me, in my entirety. an open book, on page one but already read. the story is the same. the end is set ,why am i viewing my life again. viewing everything all at once, simultaneously. “Because you lacked the understanding” said the warmth. what did i do to deserve this vitriolic punishment? “this is not a punishment” said the warmth. i see the blood on my body, in both birth and death. i look down to see my feet now... and see nothing. i turn to see my hands and see nothing. what have i become? “the cyclops” said the warmth. i turn to face the warmth to see what monstrosity would force me to become my own tormentor. the divine sun stared back. “look.” said the sun. i looked back to my life and saw my father holding me in the window. showing his son how the moon was the sole light in the night sky and how bright it was shining today. “the moon guides you through the dark but it cannot guide you alone. it works with sun to help the sun light up our life all the time. the moon cant do it alone and neither can the sun. we all rely on someone.” i stayed there the whole night. watching my life begin again. i watched every moment individually, staring at child me, before i learned to speak confidently, and watched over me in the dark. i watched as i learn to speak. i would spend an hour every night showing my writings to the cyclops. i felt the warmth on my back once again. i would blink but when i opened my eyes it was different. in my absence i grew. upon my sight i made my life worse. as i experienced heartbreak she looked at me but didnt say a thing. as she experienced betrayal i scolded me. the resentment had started. i knew my story. she shouted, scolded, and despised me. i, the lone angel of this child, couldnt protect her. i could only watch and emit the little warmth i had to give. i went to the sun and asked how i can change this. “you cannot do anything alone” the sun said. i took what i could from the sun and tried to do the only thing we could do together. be brighter. i watched as i walked into forest to the cross. i asked the sun for more. I needed more light. please sun, i need more options i have to save her. “your story is set, not even i can rise twice” said the sun. i watched as i undressed. barren in my light. i need more light. i need to keep her warm, sun! “your purpose here never was to change your fate there. it was only to understand.” said the sun. i watched as the blade cut my flesh. the soles of my feet and then the palms of my hands. UNDERSTAND WHAT? “that you were never alone, that nothing was done to you on purpose, that no god despised you, that you always had light” the sun said. i looked to my blood covered body. i walked myself to the cross. i was the one to- no! once more i saw the blade hovered above my body. i rushed towards me. i had moved quicker than my very light but i still couldnt reach her. the knife entered her heart before i could. i looked up and saw nothing. i had abandoned the sky. i had no light of my own i was always just a reflection of warmth. i covered myself in the blood of my body. this will be my warmth. i returned to the sky, the sun did not greet me with its warmth. i lit the sky red that night with my own warmth. the warmth i never realized i had. the cyclops was never against me and i should have never blamed life for happening to me. i tore my own flesh. the betrayal and the pain. none of it was vindictive. bloody i stand again. i destroyed myself because i felt undeserving of the warmth. the pain of life was inevitable but i inflicted my own pain and after a while the blood was the only thing to warm me. i isolated myself from the world were only the moon could see me and even then, i blamed the moon for my problems. the sun would’ve accepted me in its warmth. i was too scared to grow in the light so i withered in the dark. as warmth i grew accustomed to the warmth it faded, as all warmths do, i cried and as i found confidence in anger soon all i could do was chose anger or tears. i chose the isolated anger. the pressure built up and i exploded. i lived my life unable to see a path of change. death became my only absolute path of change from my designed hell. i stand as the blooded moon. reborn. unable to return to my life. i am isolation’s incarnate. a moon will replace me. a warning of their own life. a blooded moon of a new incarnation.