Sol awoke in his comfy chair his neck resting at a rough slant; this was the first ache he noticed. The second and far sharper pain came from his ankle. But how could it measure up. He felt empty, dead and alive. It could trample oceans to dust and crush the moon into starlight.
His body rose up in a haze, if not for simple embarrassment, he would have run out screaming and naked to the world. That kind of energy assaulted his senses and sensibility. For whatever heart that was left was cold and curdled. All reason was lost in his swirling dripping mind. He was left with a cursed depressed instinct.
Gathering some dry clothes, he quickly put them on. He vanishes out the door into the dark night. A blind feverish impulse pushing him along, no amount of will could usurp this moment. In minutes, he reaches the edge of the forest. Meda stood waiting for him.
He could breathe into the nothingness of the night and his soul. A soft frost crushed the grass under his feet. The air whitened his breathe but was not too chill to numb his dissolution. It was difficult to fight the urge to shout his name out to the world and the town. But his chapped lips rest shut.
Drawn, he moves forward, no lanterns or lights could announce his presence. He moved under the deepest of nights and earliest of mornings. A pain stabbed his heart over and over like a dagger on concrete. It cut so deep he thought he might finally scream out and tear open. He wraps his arms about himself as his clothing flaps about him.
He stands no more than a foot from Meda's gates. No more would they deny him. No more would they look at him and shun him with those hurtful eyes. He will make them see him, whatever they do will be better than this. For a short pause, he closes his eyes and puts his hands on the great wooden doors.
That night the town was on fire with light, they stood glaring their horrible eyes on them. A loud chorus of disapproval rang into their ears. Fruits and vegetables fell around their feet and she clung to them with her thin shaky hands. The gates were locked behind them and the hearts of many friends turned against them
"Don't look back," she said and he did not.
He opens his eyes. "Don't look back. But where can I look to?"
His eyes caught to the left, to the small grating in the wall that allows the water to flow out down the tiny trail. Sol crouchs down to the grating and pulls his head and chest through the bars. A tight fit but he was skinny enough to pull it off. He had to wait once as a pair of footsteps drew near but they soon disappeared into the distance. After a few minutes of wiggling his body, he was able to get through the gap.
Crouching he stays low as he scrambles through alleys and in-between houses. Various smells and sounds touch him making his heart race. Caught in thought he barely has time to notice the soft voice coming from the house to his right. Shock bites into him and he slinks below the window, staying as still as possible. Quieting his breathing, he savores every word and hint of their lives.
"When is dinner?" The same soft voice asks. She must be a girl.
"You're horrible at waiting." A young male voice rose.
Sol could almost imagine her stomach growling. "But, I am hungry."
"So am I but—"
An older sweeter voice buffled their bickering. "Dinner will be any moment you two. But we will have to wait for your father to eat."
As if on cue a set of footsteps creak up the porch. The door openes and closes behind him. The children run from their room, hugging, and clunging onto him. The mother was the last to greet him with a brief kiss and a sweet set of dialogue that was whispered, he could not hear. Sol very carefully lifted his head up to the windowsill. The children's room moved out into the kitchen, so they could lie on their beds and watch the dinner prepared.
"So how was your day honey?" Asked the wife.
He has a scrunched face for her reply, as if trying to recapture the day with that face. "The housekeeper was on my ass all day, she even tried to make a pass at me."
The wife gives him a quick look as she made the plates. "Oh?"
He sits down with his children. "Yeah, I think she has the hots for me."
She smiles shyly. "Well you're mine!" And she presses her lips against his and sets the food down.
The boy rubbes his hands together. "Well I'm hot for this food."
Everyone laughes in good spirit. The mother sat down. "From the way I hear it you have a crush on a girl."
Whatever they had to say next was lost to Sol as he moves away. That could have been my life. Why not? Why do I have to live in the woods and they get to be happy? Do I not deserve to be happy? What mad god has deemed this for me? It is so unfair.
No anger would creep up on him, just that undeniable loneliness bleeding into sadness, it has no mercy in its pressure only rust.
He walkes down the shops, they nearly press together they are so close. On either side of him, his reflection catches his gaze. He stops walking, unable to look away from himself. He sees those eyes, and they looked so glazed and lifeless.
His empty stare seems to capture every imaginable sorrow and bring them to life. They play as helpless figures in a horrible show of mystery and blood. Lifeless bodies dance like puppets, and happy smiles were made grim. The tortured cage of hope and desperation weighed him down. Horror crushes into his very soul and looks back with twisting laughter.
Then a man came, and he stops staring at his now grievous eyes. They are not so glazed and it brings a small amount of gladness. The man had a look of caution, and he realizes that the laughter was not twisting just his own. Tears threatened to crash down his face. The man comes closer.
"What's wrong son?"
The response startled Sol. "No. I don't have a father. I don't have a family." The words are slow, and weepy.
"Is that why you were screaming?"
"Hmmm. What is your name?" A look of curiosity cuts across his face.
"Goodbye." And he starts forward heading home.
The man shouts back. "What is your name?"