Sebastian was alone. Again.
There was something unholy about solitude, he thought, as if it was never part of the grand design. When a man is alone, he thinks too much. When he thinks too much, his thoughts turn into things...real, physical things with faces too terrible to describe. And then they make it their mission to beat the dark brown stinky shit out of the man who gave birth to them. This was a phenomenon that Sebastian had experienced far too often but had never been able to name.
He looked out the window and down at the street, where he had parked the old bucket he had been driving for the last few years. Surely there was somewhere he could drive, someone he could find.
Then the strangest thing happened. Something tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned to see a creature he had never seen before. It resembled, in passing, one of the creatures that typically spawned from his excessive thinking, one that would have surely started bringing the pain by now. But it could not have been one of those. This one had a face that was not terrible but gaunt, sorrowful, tired. Its fists were bandaged, and there were drops of blood starting to soak through. Sebastian realized that perhaps its face seemed so downtrodden because it had been fighting someone else for a change. Someone much stronger. It was one of the thought monsters after all, but this time it was weak and alone, just like Sebastian.
"I have a message for you," the thing said.
"Oh yeah? What?" asked Sebastian.
The creature sighed, rolled its eyes and curtsied. Then it said, "I'm a pretty princess, so very meek and small. I'm a pretty princess, I hope I do not fall."
Sebastian stood there for a few moments, not entirely certain how to respond. Finally he asked, "So...is that it?"
"Pretty much," said the thing.
"Weird."
"Yeah. Can I go now?"
"Sure, I guess."
The thought monster turned to leave, and Sebastian noticed it wincing with every step.
"Wait a second," said Sebastian. "Who beat you up?"
"I didn't catch his name," it said. "Tall guy, kind young but kinda old, too. Whoever he is, he's got your back. And he's got a mean right hook."
"Obviously," said Sebastian. He hated when people said "mean right hook." It was so cliche.
And just as it had come, the creature had gone. Sebastian was alone. Again. Except this time he knew he wasn't. He still felt alone, but the feeling, strong as it was, was stuck only to the surface. It didn't dig deep. It couldn't. It was if his greater depths had been cleaned out. There was nothing particularly good there, but there was nothing sinister left either. And that in itself was good. Perhaps this feeling would only be temporary, but at least his mind could be free for a while.
He looked out the window once more, turned and sat down. Then he closed his eyes and rested.
There was something unholy about solitude, he thought, as if it was never part of the grand design. When a man is alone, he thinks too much. When he thinks too much, his thoughts turn into things...real, physical things with faces too terrible to describe. And then they make it their mission to beat the dark brown stinky shit out of the man who gave birth to them. This was a phenomenon that Sebastian had experienced far too often but had never been able to name.
He looked out the window and down at the street, where he had parked the old bucket he had been driving for the last few years. Surely there was somewhere he could drive, someone he could find.
Then the strangest thing happened. Something tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned to see a creature he had never seen before. It resembled, in passing, one of the creatures that typically spawned from his excessive thinking, one that would have surely started bringing the pain by now. But it could not have been one of those. This one had a face that was not terrible but gaunt, sorrowful, tired. Its fists were bandaged, and there were drops of blood starting to soak through. Sebastian realized that perhaps its face seemed so downtrodden because it had been fighting someone else for a change. Someone much stronger. It was one of the thought monsters after all, but this time it was weak and alone, just like Sebastian.
"I have a message for you," the thing said.
"Oh yeah? What?" asked Sebastian.
The creature sighed, rolled its eyes and curtsied. Then it said, "I'm a pretty princess, so very meek and small. I'm a pretty princess, I hope I do not fall."
Sebastian stood there for a few moments, not entirely certain how to respond. Finally he asked, "So...is that it?"
"Pretty much," said the thing.
"Weird."
"Yeah. Can I go now?"
"Sure, I guess."
The thought monster turned to leave, and Sebastian noticed it wincing with every step.
"Wait a second," said Sebastian. "Who beat you up?"
"I didn't catch his name," it said. "Tall guy, kind young but kinda old, too. Whoever he is, he's got your back. And he's got a mean right hook."
"Obviously," said Sebastian. He hated when people said "mean right hook." It was so cliche.
And just as it had come, the creature had gone. Sebastian was alone. Again. Except this time he knew he wasn't. He still felt alone, but the feeling, strong as it was, was stuck only to the surface. It didn't dig deep. It couldn't. It was if his greater depths had been cleaned out. There was nothing particularly good there, but there was nothing sinister left either. And that in itself was good. Perhaps this feeling would only be temporary, but at least his mind could be free for a while.
He looked out the window once more, turned and sat down. Then he closed his eyes and rested.
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