Secretively, here in the night, he hummed along. His eyes steadily dropped down, and his shoulders pulled in. He was a dreary figure drifting through the steadfast pleasure that filled the air, all of which held no relevance to him.
The sultry drawings of young men hung onto the bosoms of women and filled the night. Yet, though these women intoxicated them, they felt compelled to call them contemptuous whores. The women in exchange eagerly snuck their long fingers into these wanton men's pockets, swiping their only pride and strength, their money.
He mused in horror, "These aren't unpleasant men, or men drowned in some misfortunate fate, they had many things, some even families. I know many of these men, having seen them from time to time here and there, and they seemed awfully righteous at first glance. Yet, some, even with a wife at home they are here! They had got their drinks and have come now for their pleasures, without a care or an inch of remorse! The indecency it summons only anger and disgust! These women feast on them, like wolves. Yet, they must do it; it makes you feel sorry. As their flesh is warped by the fierce grip of these lustful demons, they still persist because there is nothing else but this. It is maddening and sorrowful. Both souls become warped, one devouring another human to captivate some dark impulse, and the other lost in pursuit of a better future, swallowed and violated. Yet, though it is awful, it cannot be done without it. These women would be out of their homes without these men; it's a necessary evil, I suppose, in the end. Perhaps faintly, these women suffering as such held a goodness in light of an even darker fate being evaded. Without them, these ugly and unworthy men would not be so apparent in the light; no, they would be behind doors and in the dark, scheming, trying their best to hide their desires. Yet, inevitably, these men of little character would come into the world with their violent and hideous lust. Now they are controlled in a way, they are made quiet and docile. Less easy to commend but the access to these women's bodies prevents the regular woman from being assaulted through the troubling ideas of these pathetic men."
However, he found himself daunted by the sight of the feasting. Their mesmerized eyes turned in splendor far greater than what could be bought by drugs or drinks. Yet, the idea was a terrible thing; it caused his mind to run amok with thoughts, and in the rush, he turned awful and feral.
He soon condemned these awful thoughts. Whispers lingered, admitting that there was nothing wrong with fetching medicine for a pain, and though that may be true for the wretched, he was aghast in fear as those thoughts turned stronger.
He said, suddenly looking at those men, "The pitiful turn of these men into nothing but haunting creatures of the night is enough to silence these desires. That is far worse than any pleasure earned by mimicking them, I am sure, for there is not even a whim of something more; instead, they indulge in this sedimentary lifestyle without any thought or care for anything or anyone, they are hardly alive, merely decaying every day."
Though he again shrank at an amorous sight. His heart was beating faster.
Yet then he stopped in place, the racing of his heart turning still. A silence grew. For he saw an awfulness that stressed his attention, or more correctly, his horror. He saw a man lurch over a woman. His bloodshot eyes were vicious, and below, a woman was swallowed by this violence. His hand lifted, striking her face, instantly turning the pretty softness that existed there into a fierce sight, and though she screamed something true to horror, no man or woman near rose their eyes to attention. They laid their heads down into their own business.
He felt quickly a whim, but stopped soon after in place. Looking on, and then turning away, he struggled to decide which way to move.
He felt troubled, truly, and thought sadly, "Oh, the great fetishes of man leave us without any sense. If one person were to look truly at us, with our hands, and our well-accomplished feats, then he would say we are something legendary. Yet then another would come, and he would witness our cruelties, and say, surely this is man. Which one is it, are we the great and glorious, or else the sniveling and cruel? Which must I task myself to to feel human? As I see it, the passivity of reason and justice comes too often, too easily. For the assurance of the self and our assets, we ignore the fundamental act of evil, preserving its filthy dignity as it rapes all that is beautiful. Is there anything more insidious than a coward, watching as the world burns? Doing something too heinous to recover from, this ignorance it spits upon all my dignity, there is no hope for me should I continue to close my eyes. Yet what else is there? I can act, but I fear what might happen if I do. Death and other inauspicious things are soon to come to a fool who leads his foot out without thought. This is my tragedy, this heart-wrenching ponder. I know that if I saw this elsewhere, perhaps in a book, if another soul were tasked with this same dilemma and wished to do what I am thinking. Then I would definitely spit at the coward, and yet here I reason away my disgrace without all the bravado I imagine I had. I know I could perhaps do something. Yet I will not, I am afraid, it's biting upon my veins and mind, like a bitter cold. I wish I were brave. I wish I were better."
He walked a step away, and in his mind came upon a tempest of temper.
He thought coldly, "How could I do this? Is this how lowly I am? Haha, whatever pride I had imagined, it comes breaking down in the face of reality. Changing this filthy mind is impossible, for nothing ever changes. I remain the filth scattered upon the floor."
Madness grew exemplified by the consequence of his sin, and the failure of his duty to his fellow human, to himself too.
He felt his mind race with any excuse for the man's carnage. Suddenly stopping and taking a breath.
He wondered with a snide laugh, "What tidy neatness is there in my reason, haha, I would imagine this was a debate on how concise it is! Surely there is no good reason, and yet the cowardly, insidious portions of my mind continue to shake my heart with some pathetic reasoning! It is one thing to be a coward, but to imagine the innocent and bereaved as sinners all for my own comfort, haha, that is villainy! I am a crook, a villain! I am awful, just as awful as that rogue!"
He forbade such thoughts, even though they grew in hefty number; soon they outnumbered the decent and rational thoughts, and from a mere triviality, it grew to soon overtake him.
As his mind grew to wander between the comfortable evil within and the soul within. He took a breath. He realized he had not been breathing at all. The lack of oxygen turned his face red. Though this allowed the twisting filaments of thought to be reduced in number and strength to conjure a certain security of only the most central values that lay beneath formulating thought and reason, within his soul.
Though he walked further, the screams grew more terrible and reached his ears with a harsh pitch like a whip. He stood firmly planted in his steps. His eyes scanned back, and instinctively, he knew he ought not do anything. Then, of course, his mind raced with thoughts, and he was furiously aggravated. He felt perhaps compelled by the shame of his disgrace.
He said concisely, "There is too little that can be done through these meager hands; it is foolish to believe all the concise beliefs of hope and justice can recover something far greater from the pits of this hellish, unfair world. If man humbles himself, he will gain happiness, but never strength. In this world, happiness is as fickle as a thread, the fates are cruel, but strength shall never betray you. It is those who betray their place in this world who find the power to clench tightly unto something true, even if at the cost of everything, who win."
He continued, "Humans are far too little, yet so much more too, we are the sons of God, borne through his spirit. In our prayer, the darkness can be warded. Yet in our eyes, what is unseen is as good as absent, hence why bother proclaiming beliefs into something unnameable. Yet the same, no amount of work, or fighting for good and happiness ever seems to result in anything, the world lingers with demons, and yet surely many are reached by the light, and saved. To bow your head and surrender to the darkness is to settle the world in ruin."
He walked forward, his feet heavily hitting the ground, and he felt his body gripped by the coldness of fear. He said in madness, "Man humbling himself to the material world, weighing options, not following his heart, that is an insult to the human character! To humble oneself before God is not to fall to your knees, it is to grant oneself a chance to inspect oneself, and change how they treat their peers and companions, to try and change this filthy world for the better. That is a child's great piety to his divine father. To reject the will of the beast within, and to do unto the world some deliverance of good. Of course, when one is at odds with the world, the weight of the times, the madness of the world can surmount the paragon ideals you hold and weigh so heavily you fall to your knees. In light of suffering one is sure to face, one might wonder, what is the virtue of God's path? If wealth and power can stand firmly against the tides, why bother elsewhere in the battle against evil? That is common, and you see it too often, those who are obedient to the good, turning their white sleeves crimson by slaying their ideals and with it sacrificing their fellow man."
He looked on at the two, he thought coldly, "Yet why do you do so? Is it not fear? Are you not consumed by your doubts, that you turn into servicing the needs of evil? You turn vicious and hungry, biting at the flesh of your brothers and sisters. Can any human bear that shame, to be so scared, as little as a mouse? Is that what you are willing to earn by throwing away your dignity? You are a boy cowering before the world, serving under the cold winds of nature. You are frightened by it into a pathetic stillness. The unease will haunt you forever, the knowledge that you are unable to alter the world, to simply become a prey before its viciousness. Do not disguise it, you are weak to turn to greed and wrath because you are afraid, and in doing so, you turn into the lowly cockroach lying upon the filthy ground! To surrender before the world, to reject the possibility of morphing it into paradise, I cannot do it. The human self is far more; it is accompanied by the starry sky watching benevolently, and even the impossible can so be surmounted! Humans are born from the spirit of God, and are far more than cowards in the hands of the devil. Set to defend against the tide of the world! We are the designers of our fate and destiny, unlike the mere cockroach! God is our witness, we make our own designs, and this world is made by our hands! Every cruelty and suffering, I shall smother it so that none suffer any longer; that should be every human's promise to themselves. To fall to your knees, to turn to evil, and corruption to preserve yourself, I cannot do so! To all the sinners, the corrupt, and senseless, you turned by the ugliness of the world, you are not humans, you are things borne from the regency of chaos, you are destined to be squashed by the recourse of time, whereas humans shall lie in eternal glory, eternal supremacy."
His eyes flashed in a flickering light of thought. He grabbed hold of the man's raised hand and then quickly knocked him away.
Quickly, he took action to disperse any continued presence in this drama; he grabbed the dazed girl in a laugh, the look of surprise running over her features. He was in her eyes, a beautiful thing, radiant, shining through the consuming darkness. Within her eyes sparkled a certain light. It was utter beauty that sparkling color inspired by the fiery heart of a man. He pulled her with a rashness that unknowingly bruised her skin, his eyes too keen on escaping.
Dashing, he was soon to crash; he twisted with a refined flexibility, dodged corners, and ended up in a chain of alleys. Never looking back to wonder whether or not that fellow chased.
He appeared in a secluded corner, peering out.
After a dozen seconds of stillness, he finally felt his beating heart slow. A great wave of exhaustion came across him, and he held his head tightly in his hands.
His eyes then came to fall onto the still shivering girl. His eyes softened, no longer bearing that fearful sharpness, and though he thought ought not touch her after all she had gone through. She would most definitely turn frightful of his touch, even if the intention was considerate. More so, he was afraid that she would turn vicious. Confused and unsettled, her words could reflect something other than herself. He knew the human heart was strange at times; it served to do exactly the opposite of what you sought. He, however, could not think to offer anything else to this frightful bird, trembling so sadly. The thunder that had echoed across her skin still rang in her ears, and in her eyes, the fruit of pestilence grew deeper.
She finally looked up and asked, "Has he come? Are we alone?"
He nodded confidently with a faint, awkward smile.
He grew frightful of what may become of her precocious mind now stung by the lash of terrible fear. Would what had happened become a noose around her future? Would every moment be haunted and ruined?
He hummed and said, "I ought to have smashed his face, made him bruised and pathetic, though forgive me, I am not a fighter. Calm yourself, I shall not allow anything else to overcome you tonight, and if possible, think elsewhere, do not dwell on this moment, it would do nothing but pain you. Though he seems frightful now, the pain is still tender; thus, have little faith in what you believe. Time remedies all lies. That man is not strong; he is weak, and that reality will set in with time. So do not let your mind become entangled. He is a worm. Be resilient, and employ yourself in the grace of consideration. He cannot hold on to you as long as you pay no attention. These violent people live off images of power, but no brute with any measure of strength can master a human. It was not man's paltry strength that arose us from the bosom of wild beasts, it was our intelligence and love that brought us from the frivolity of viciousness. So do not let violence reduce you, let your mind be comforted in your dignity and strength."
He appeared to calm her, and though she was washed in a daze, he happened to see an appearing gleam of thought. He grew frightened through her musings, worried whether he had crossed a line or impeded her too much.
He said to her, "I am otherwise free, would you want me to aid you in finding a more comforting spot. A warm place to sleep? I am sure a good night's rest would recover most issues, though I suspect the night will drag on for you after what happened. So you may wish a touch of familiarity, a friend, or else silence too will do you a great deal for your tattered nerves."
She was not someone unwise to the certainty of dangers lurking, and yet she smiled. Her mind seemed clear, though in the face of such a harrowing thing, thought and expectation were fickle in nature, perhaps without truth or comprehension.
She grew feeble as the chill brought on a shiver in her body. Fearful of her state, he seemed anxious to gain her answer and produce to her a bit of footing.
She thought, "Never was there a kind person to be found in this life of mine. Whether noble, or else poor, or even family, none were worthy of being recognized for all they would do was betray your beliefs, and cut up your flesh."
She hummed with a certain unease in her mind. In her upended lifestyle, through dogmatic ritual she had so preserved, it corrected her mindset into a lull that was ordinarily ensured. Yet now such a sudden feeling. She shivered so fearful of something, that certain kind of thing, of hope, and yet something more. Perhaps love, or else addiction?
He whispered with a smirk, "So often stuck to my ideas locked in my room, I am blind to the reality of most situations, and thus lack simple common sense. So, excuse me, I am rather excited. You may wish to slap me silly for my mouth that seems to presume. Yet I sincerely hate the idea of pain, so I do hope that while you may feel uncomfortable, a word of rebuke would do better than a slap."
She smiled back at him and said, "No, I am thankful, and you have no reason to be frightened. A hero should never worry about these kinds of things. I would delight in the company, my home is a little away, you see, and I suppose it would calm me being somewhere reasonable alongside someone reasonable. I feel certain that someone is you. I selfishly implore you to help again. I cannot do much, but I hope a spot of tea would be acceptable, a meager thanks. Though I despise putting you off. In truth, I am fine, but a bit too excited, too. Are you free?"
He smiled and explained, "Well, I have something of an appointment, but I haven't a single care to attend to it. Take it as my duty, I have decided wholly to become better, and it is but a necessity of that choice. Oh yes, I do not know your name. "
She said it quite clearly, hopeful, "Dyane."
So he took the lead, and they in the moonlight wandered. The lonesome clouds had drifted, and in their place were the stars.
She would occasionally peek, staring a bit too long at his features, feeling a dash of shyness with each glance. She would then ruminate on her thoughts, bashfully aware of her unfettered feelings. She grew discourteous and perhaps grew a bit too unaware, for she grew more enamored as they conversed. Though it was simple chatter, it was enchanting for her heart.
Never before had her heart become as entranced in a spell of romance. Though only a few moments before she was burdened by the darkness of violence, in the touch of his, she was so freed from certain doom.
She thought, "I cannot believe what I am feeling. The world has turned far too dazzling for a weak woman like herself. Before nothing seemed good, and everything dirty, everything seemed withered and ruined, and yet now everywhere there seem to be flowers abound."
There they grew closer to a home, much rather a cobbled spot of shabby bricks pieced together by some desperate hand. There was a sense of devastation. Only a person without any choice could find it acceptable.
With holes tattered across its body, it did little good to keep away rain, or else the cold winds, especially as winter grew closer. It was, after all, little more than plates of cracked bricks tucked in uneven rows, robbed from now-empty places once made for the rich, or well praised. This was something lesser, wholly made for those who had no rights, no hope; it was a dependency with which they clung onto through the seemingly ever-present tortures of life. Most could be spied on through the holes, they lay like sick dogs. Glassy eyes and thin limbs. Some had bandages, and most had a distinct color from one another. It was a pot for those unwelcome elsewhere, the diseased, the disapproved, and dismissed.
He grew to gather a few thoughts, unknown to him, he felt a strain over his heart, and a stain grew over his vision. He began to relent to the fact of this perspective being wholly been absent from his mind.
He sighed internally, "In my mind secluded from anything else, only the selfish dreams of love and fame existed. I knew nothing truly of the suffering undertaken by others. This is not a life; these buildings seem more akin to a pig's den than a human home. Is this what the times have demanded of the poor? Is this the reality they must face, where the bitter cold is quick to grip onto their bodies, and likely bring them death?"
Though he knew of their conditions, they were but mere words; his imagination could never derive the truth. For though any other person may have bowed their heads in pity, instead, a flash of thought began to brew greater, and greater into a great typhoon in his mind.
Perhaps maddened by their circumstances, a few acted as if wild animals and pounded their chests, roaring. Yet these few were younger, newer, for in their sunken eyes the immovable ruin of despair had not become so permanent.
Many of them were as dead thin, with bones pinned against their skin like hooks. They were unable to smile, not a single bit of strength of will provoked it. Instead, occasionally grunting could be heard as if some meager attempt to show their life. Though more likely than not it was a last act of defiance, not to walk into the dark, silent, that was their dignity.
He thought of their condition and his own abilities.
He considered, "More so than the blades and ornaments I am used to making, seeing this place and what I can do seems far more exciting. Sure, the blade was competent and refined, like a piece of art. Of course, this place is rotten, and stepping into its muddy waters would only leave me dissatisfied. Yet still left in lament, I keep wanting to try, even though it's unlikely I would be able to do anything meaningful."
For a moment, all the deep thoughts that fluttered across his mind, just as clouds fluttering across the great sky, seemed to have become absent, and for once, he could see some stars blindingly bright in his mind.
He, of course, was sure that though the ruse and unfamiliarity of such a thing ought to be blinding him, surely sending him to his doom, he nevertheless felt this was what he wanted. He denied it thrice, and yet still the same answer came to him. All he wished to do was this.
He smiled, "To change what is, into what can be."
He closed his eyes and thought of what could be. He dreamed of music and song reaching out into every ear, comforting every lonely and broken soul. The human spirit burning brightly as they cling to the light of heaven. A world of hope. A paradise, true.
She kept a close eye on him, she worried, and also hoped, and so she watched, and in turn she delighted, for he seemed not to repel or reject this place, and more correctly, her.
She explained, perhaps in pursuit to settle his mind, for he seemed excited and she worried about what it meant, "They don't have much, nor the will left to want. To them, simply living is their meager reward earned each day. They are, at times, pitiful, and yet I presume that should the chance come, they ought to be far more vicious than any ordinary man or woman. They understand all things far more deeply; the weight of a talent of gold weighs onto their hearts like the sky itself. They are competent enough to devour any other person should the opportunity arise. So you can see that even at their lowest points, they are still human enough to rob. Everyone here, just to stretch their hands a tad more, to grab onto that thread from Heaven and escape this hell, they'd step on the shoulders of their friends and family. "
She wanted to assure him of herself. To see so clearly meant you yourself were a distance away. All so that he would have longevity in her life. She was not fickle enough to see herself as something far too great, able to keep the heart of this man, surely.
How sadly, though, if she simply uttered the truth of her heart, perhaps she might stir the heart of the one she longed for.
She saw his silence, and bit her lip, "Though maybe in dreams, or should God be there, then there could be such a beautiful fate, unsullied by the present time where the distance between us is so large."
He suddenly spoke, "Unfulfilled by the shame of where you are, it is a burden. The contrast between where you wish to be and where you are, and the insult as the world continues to go onwards without any care. It's easy to make a person rotten. We dream of paradise somewhere, and delight in it even if it is accompanied by a mountain of corpses. That is what despair is. Yet the mind is fickle, lost in the constant buzz of perhaps there still I assume remains a thing called hope. For in life, such a terrible thing it is to lose all hope."
He explained, "Surely then anything that can change this feeble reality is, of course, the action any decently intelligent person would do. Most only see change through the harsh and violent means, yet there lies a good and just means to escape this fate of theirs, too. A person simply needs to take hold of this and act. Most simply go on with their own lives, too afraid of being bothered by the consequences. Yet I think I can act. Though perhaps it is impossible, for I would need the faith of many. Who would put their faith in someone like me, though? What could I have to offer them beyond words?"
She said, "For you, sir, I wouldn't mind it. A touch of beauty is a necessity in this world; otherwise, I am sure no man or woman ought to want to live. You truly believe in the good things, and you truly see the beautiful. You speak with such truth. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't want to live in this awful, lonely world, or more cruelly, I may not even be alive tonight. I am sure someone like you can inspire the hearts of many. Someone just enough to act, someone daring enough to dream, and kind enough to bother about the untouchables of this world. You are beautiful."
He smiled and replied, "Thank you, Dyane. You have comforted me truly. You have given me faith in myself. I think you are far too amazing to be a simple human; you are almost like a goddess guarding me."
She whispered, "You should be more careful with your words, they ought to force a girl a bit crazy."
He seemed not to hear, and that was fine for her.