Buried

The sky was baby blue, like her eyes when we played in the field and ran free as children. Her hair short to her shoulders and fair blonde colour. We ran in the open fields without a care in the world, looking forward to the world and wanting to conquer it all, conquer it all together. The earth beneath our feet, we felt on top of the world.

We had picnics with cute little sandwiches and cookies that were freshly baked with the sweet smell of baked sugar and coco. There were also the little cartons of milkshakes, one pink strawberry and the other yellow banana. With a little blanket laid out with the word "hope," "love" and "spirit." It was soft to the touch and we would both lay on it together, side by side, looking up into the sky at the clouds and making up stories on what we would be doing in the future together. She would be an artist; I would be a writer. Creating new worlds with colours and words to inspire, to change and to help all those with no colour or hope left. All this imaged on the flowing fields.

We started our quest. Plain canvas and notebook. I would create stories about colour building in the lives of those who lost it. She would paint out uplifting artwork that represented how no hope is lost. We grew closer through the works of our quest. We bonded over time. Closer and closer. She became my happiness, my best friend, the colour in my world. We would stand in the field together, hands held, feeling the breeze run across us. Our bond was powerful, but so fragile.

The field was covered in a cold white layer of soft snow with dancing flakes falling from the sky. We both stood together in the snow. Her eyes as beautiful as always. We stood close together, my meaning to life was looking me in the face with love that filled me with warmth and happiness. We got closer, I could feel her breath on me, warmer than the summer breeze that would fuel everything with life. Her arms behind my neck to ensure we could both connect. So close, but the snow began to shake as snakes raised up and coiled around us pulling us apart. Black cobras.

We were split from each other. The snakes spat venom onto the snow making it black. I was helpless. My life left me and was being pulled away. I could hear the hissing voices in my head telling me I was worthless for trying to find the perfect happiness in life. It was no snake speaking in my ears but demons. The devil sent the snakes. The demons took advantage of my helpless state and filled my mind, slowly devouring my emotions and making me numb. Despair, anger, pain; all these feelings corrupted my body as the toxic words of the demons coursed through me.

I could see her hand reaching out. I tried to reach, but it was too late. Both of us possessed. Life was non-existent. How something could rip apart life so easily. How the snake emerged from the earth and coiled around its victim to drain the energy, joy and purpose from it. Now all I could do was watch her. Watch her slowly move on in the world. I always tried to support her in the shadows, without bothering her. I couldn't stand to see her being corrupted by demons again.

It was all too much for me. I couldn't move forward. The demons were still stuck in me. Still corrupting my mind like they are doing now. The death of the old me lead to the birth of another. The birth of the broken. The birth of mad. The birth of a corrupted angel stuck six foot under the ground. Buried by all the feelings, anxieties and doubt. It was the birth of one of the voices in our heads.

The birth of Goner.