He is dying. Alone.

Hi!

I am Mademoiselle FANTASY and today I will be writing a miniature story, or one-shot. Today’s inspiration is the following song:

(Listen to the song while reading)

Drought… That is the only word capable of describing such a landscape. How long has it been since it rained here? Months, maybe even years. Everything is red and orange, those two colors in all of their shades. But there is no shade. There’s just sun, sand and rocks. At times the stones provide a contrast to all of this colorful dry fire, they are black, probably burnt. Then again, everything is burnt here. That’s why they’re red. It smells of smoldering flames. One sniff and noses catch fire. It would certainly be Hell if it weren’t for the crystal blue sky from above. Oh… the sky; it’s a beauty to behold. Above all of this fire, it’s like the most clean water. It’s a perfect fit; red and blue, anger and peace, noise and silence, fire and water…

Water? Water! He must find water! He needs water. There is no water, only bright sun, red sand and black rocks. It burns. His throat is burning with a fiery passion to find water, to quench his thirst and refresh his mouth. He has been walking for days in a desperate attempt to fetch water, but it’s nowhere to be found. He can’t walk any longer. His vision is blurry. His head is throbbing. He tumbles on a rock and falls.

⇔

The sky is now dark; a mixture of dark blue decorated with bright white spots. It’s almost as if the sun got torn apart point by point and formed tiny stars. The stars have created shapes and forms. Constellations… he remembers that word. He can’t recognise them, but he knows they are there, above him. Yet, he knows that right now he’s looking at the past. He knows how every single one of these little bright points are hundreds of light years away, but he is looking at them now. He had to wait for them to reach him and now he can enjoy them in all of their dazzling glory. 

What has he done to be looked at by strangers in the future? Not much. In fact, he cannot remember a day when he didn’t let someone down, usually himself. What a judge has he been? Never letting himself feel proud, always thinking he should be perfect, at least better. Never letting others feel proud. He’s been a harsh man, a ruthless man. But why? What did he gain? What was the outcome of such a behaviour?

The answer; nothing good. He pushed everyone away, didn’t he? He alienated himself from all the people who truly cared for him, didn’t he? He refused to hold or be held by anyone other than himself, didn’t he? He stood stoic and cold, rejecting affection and friendship, didn’t he? All because he had been hurt once. Because of one person, he had lost his faith in the rest seven billion, hadn’t he? He had been wrong. There is no doubt about that, not question. He had been wrong.

Now, he is alone somewhere in a red, flaming, god-forgotten place and there is no water, and even if there was he cannot walk, he cannot get up, he is burning with fever from the sun and cannot even burst in tears, because there is no water left in him. He is dying. Alone. 

Oh! He had once loved, loved with a flaming hot passion that consumed him whole. Then he believed in everything and everyone. Yet he never learned. He never learned how to catch hopeful sparks, how to scan the room for the one sending the hope, he was never blinded by their dazzling light, he never smelled the smoke or inhaled the air. He didn’t see any flares.

But now, he is. He is looking at the stars and he realises he is not alone. He is being blinded by those tiny sparks in the dark sky, that now feels brighten then ever. He can smell the smoke, his nose is catching fire. He will forever be accompanied by all of those that tried to send them their warm fire and hopeful ashes. He will be burnt by the life he refused to consume during his lifetime. He welcomed the flares, their bright light and he closed his eyes.

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Good morning! Good evening! Good afternoon! Wherever you might be or whenever you might be reading this. How are you guys?! I genuinely wish you’re having a good day.

Happy B-day to me!

I hoped you guys liked the story. Tell me what you thought in the comments!

Hugs, love and good vibes,

Mademoiselle FANTASY

P.S.: I am not French. The name was just one of those stupid ideas someone has, but likes them too much to let them go… 🙂

I DO own the story I wrote and the characters.

I DO NOT own the song “Flares.” It belongs to the artist The Script and the video to the YouTube channel Lisa LaBarbera.

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