Prologue
It's raining in New York, and to some the pitter-patter of water on their umbrella is nothing more than some meteorological phenomenon for this time of the year. But to a select group, the rain is so much more than that. The rain is a public outpouring of grief, sorrow, and pain that those people would not allow the world to see.
In life, there are rough patches - obstacles, tests, hardships - call them what you will. Some stumble through more obstacles than others, while those who barely struggle fail to appreciate what blessings they have.
The rain falls just as hard in Manhattan as it does in Brooklyn, but it seems to drown the fallen. It's as if the sorrow of the people pours on this particular spot.
It is through hardship, however, that strength is developed. The problem with hardship, however, is that it holds in it's calloused hands the dangerous power to completely destroy anyone it touches.
In this spot, crimson rain falls. On her knees rests a fallen warrior, red water dripping from her hands. Blood has coated the black leather clinging to her body and more of it oozes from a long gash that mars the left side of her face.
People, however, are by nature (or nurture) equipped with defenses to lessen the damage. Just as the body's defenses can be weakened or even rendered immobile by too much infection, so can the will be broken by despair. Newton's First Law states that an object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an external force. By that logic alone, even the strongest person can be stopped by the right force.
Tears stream down a black mask, falling to the ground in an uneven pattern. No sound escapes her lips because she is not weeping. She is not grieving because to grieve requires a heart. And she destroyed that a long time ago.
I used to believe that standing up after the fall (or conversely, being destroyed by it) was a choice. And for the longest time, I denied that belief. Being destroyed wasn't a choice. It was an inevitability.
It's storming now in New York, as if the rain has taken on the job of grieving and raging because she cannot. As the downpour drenches her body and washes the blood away, she pulls two blood-stained playing cards - Jokers - from her right sleeve. They've been slit diagonally through the middle and scrawled on each card, in familiar handwriting, were three little words that she would whisper when she leaves.
But now I've come to realize that although it may've been an inevitable, my destruction was ultimately my own doing.
She places the cards gingerly on the two graves before her. Through the slit in each card she pushed a short-stemmed white rose into the earth. Rain catches on the petals, collecting in the flower before spilling over onto the grave soil.
I've destroyed many lives - in both my past and present lives - and it wasn't inevitable at all. It was a choice. It was my choice.
Rising to her feet she wipes off her mask and glances at the two graves - her empty eyes filling with grief, if only for a moment. Her job was finished and there was nothing left for her to do but say goodbye and walk away for good.
And now - like a phoenix - it is time for me to go up in flames so that I may rise from the ashes to start anew once more.
"Rest in peace."
In life, there are rough patches - obstacles, tests, hardships - call them what you will. Some stumble through more obstacles than others, while those who barely struggle fail to appreciate what blessings they have.
The rain falls just as hard in Manhattan as it does in Brooklyn, but it seems to drown the fallen. It's as if the sorrow of the people pours on this particular spot.
It is through hardship, however, that strength is developed. The problem with hardship, however, is that it holds in it's calloused hands the dangerous power to completely destroy anyone it touches.
In this spot, crimson rain falls. On her knees rests a fallen warrior, red water dripping from her hands. Blood has coated the black leather clinging to her body and more of it oozes from a long gash that mars the left side of her face.
People, however, are by nature (or nurture) equipped with defenses to lessen the damage. Just as the body's defenses can be weakened or even rendered immobile by too much infection, so can the will be broken by despair. Newton's First Law states that an object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an external force. By that logic alone, even the strongest person can be stopped by the right force.
Tears stream down a black mask, falling to the ground in an uneven pattern. No sound escapes her lips because she is not weeping. She is not grieving because to grieve requires a heart. And she destroyed that a long time ago.
I used to believe that standing up after the fall (or conversely, being destroyed by it) was a choice. And for the longest time, I denied that belief. Being destroyed wasn't a choice. It was an inevitability.
It's storming now in New York, as if the rain has taken on the job of grieving and raging because she cannot. As the downpour drenches her body and washes the blood away, she pulls two blood-stained playing cards - Jokers - from her right sleeve. They've been slit diagonally through the middle and scrawled on each card, in familiar handwriting, were three little words that she would whisper when she leaves.
But now I've come to realize that although it may've been an inevitable, my destruction was ultimately my own doing.
She places the cards gingerly on the two graves before her. Through the slit in each card she pushed a short-stemmed white rose into the earth. Rain catches on the petals, collecting in the flower before spilling over onto the grave soil.
I've destroyed many lives - in both my past and present lives - and it wasn't inevitable at all. It was a choice. It was my choice.
Rising to her feet she wipes off her mask and glances at the two graves - her empty eyes filling with grief, if only for a moment. Her job was finished and there was nothing left for her to do but say goodbye and walk away for good.
And now - like a phoenix - it is time for me to go up in flames so that I may rise from the ashes to start anew once more.
"Rest in peace."