What if?

Pieces of my skin are peeling off of my rotten flesh with every little branch touching my body. Or maybe it’s just the wind. Maybe the only wind is the one caused by how fast I am running, running through everything, only being able to see the slow change of scenery with the blurred lines in the corner of my eye. If there was a heart in my chest, I’m sure it would be beating fast right now, and not because of the exercise. Being scared doesn’t quite describe what I’m feeling, I don’t think any word does, but then again I’m no expert of words.

How does one describe the feeling when you know you’re going to lose, but you still go for it, just to see if you have a chance? You clearly don’t, but there is always the big ’What if?’ scratching the back of your mind. What if you can end it? What if you can make a change? Why not try? The only thing you have to lose is your miserable life, and that’s quite a fair price for change. Squatting here, behind the bushes that separate known from unknown, I can’t seem to grasp a word suitable enough. The forest here looks much more threatening than the one I know so well. It’s alive, more alive at least. Brown and burgundy leaves are drifting in the breeze, just like my two braids, consisting of only a few strands of hair I stuffed back in my scalp last night. I really tried. Tried to look more presentable, even friendly maybe, but even without one of those strange boards that reflect your face, I know it wasn’t a success. I am undead and I will always look undead, however hard I try not to.

After getting bored of waiting for my courage to arrive, I decide to go. Go, but where? Making a plan didn’t seem necessary last night, unlike braiding my hair, but in this moment, I wish I had been less concerned about my appearance. Well then. Step one, find a living creature, preferably human. Step two, talk to said human. Step three: a, run or b, have a nice drink with them -that they so kindly offered to me -and make friends with them. After all, a good plan has to include even the most unlikely turnouts.

I accidentally break off a part of my nail when I see a person. A slow and wrinkly person, but a person nonetheless. Maybe it will be okay. We’re not that far in appearance and she doesn’t seem to be the type to run away. Maybe it will be fine, and I can go home and sleep in my cave tonight. Yes, I am sure. Step one, completed. Moving on to step two. Moving on, which means slowly getting up and trying to make the nicest, warmest face I can think of. Moving on means stepping out from the safety of the bushes and setting foot in the town of beasts. Stepping one, then two, then trying to step three with my trembling legs. Making eye contact. Trying to smile. Bowing my head. Starting to communicate without the ability to speak, waving my hands, imitating galloping and…

For such an old human, the hit is strong, so strong it knocks me off my feet and bruises my already greenish skin. I can feel her voice inside me as she screams, for help I assume. Like the howling of wolves, only sharper. I want to turn back, run away, but then the plan wouldn’t be complete. I would have to live with what a coward I am. No. I’m going to run, but not away. I’m going to run and find someone else. I’m going to run and I will complete the plan.

I run. I run, but not away. I run even deeper into this evil little town, I run to save them, them, who did nothing to save us back then. Perhaps it’s reckless, stupid. Perhaps it’s pointless. But perhaps it will show them I’m not a monster. Perhaps they will even thank me. So I run. I look for even the smallest look of friendliness in their eyes, the smallest spark. I run. I run and I find it. A creature so small compared to me, with hair so soft, and with eyes that are afraid, but even more curious. I put on my best smile, even if it’s the only one I know and lead her behind a wall, where no one can see us. She looks up at me and I try explaining once again. They’re coming, bad men are coming, with horses and sticks that look dangerous, and they’re near.

-I don’t understand. Sorry. – I don’t understand what she says, but I still try. They’re coming. They want to kill you little girl, don’t you understand? They want to kill all of you. She doesn’t, I can see it in her eyes, and the way she tilts her head, but she has to, she has to.

-I-Is someone coming? Horses? – I know the word for this feeling, I know it’s called hope. It’s too short, too simple for something this magnificent. My smile grows wide, I didn’t even know it could do that. I nod, as fast as possible and the little girl chuckles, and I want to chuckle too, laugh in fact, but then the little girl is gone, dragged away in the arms of a big man. She is kicking, trying to explain, pointing at me, and she is gone, a big, black door swallows her, stealing her last glance away from me.

The empty space hope leaves after disappearing is a kind of pain I’ve never felt before.

I can hear the people shouting, coming for me. They want me to die, don’t they? They won’t offer me drinks, they won’t let me in their house, in their life. Of course they won’t, what was I thinking? I must get away, I must run. It’s in the plan, I was expecting this. So why does it feel like someone is sitting on my chest, squeezing me, until I’m small and invisible?

I feel hands on me, gloved hands. They are disgusted. They pull me back, away, away from the last chance of completing step two. And without step two, there is no step three, and step three is essential for the Plan. No, it won’t work. Screw the Plan, and screw this whole town with its cruel people. Screw my nonexistent heart and screw my braids too. I fight back, I bite as many hands on me as I can, but there is more, there is always more. Light hands, dark hands, veiny hands, hairy hands and dirty hands, but all of them is alive, so alive it hurts. I kick and bite and wiggle, push everyone off of me, leaving a pile of beasts behind. I run, as fast as I can, but my best is not enough, a single hand holds me back. I hit it, and grasp its neck and I hold it tight. Tight and tighter and oh no.

It collapses, the neck and the hand and the beast. Oh no. It’s too numb, too pale. His hand, reaching for my ankles, waiting to drag me down, but it doesn’t move. Why doesn’t it move? Reach for me, touch me, grab me and kill me, just please move. I did this. I couldn’t have done this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was not my Plan. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. What if he had children, and a wife, and a wonderful life? What if he was good, better than I could ever be? I am a monster afterall. I tried not to be, I tried to be kind, but you can’t pretend to be something you’re not. Tears would come out of my eye if they could and I run. Away, away from the town, away from myself, away from the dead hand and the even more dead face, the face I couldn’t bring myself to look at.

***

I don’t understand. I don’t understand why people hate us. I don’t understand why I’m waiting for the fire below to finally reach my feet, when I was only trying to help. I don’t understand the disgust on their faces as they watch me slowly burn to death. I don’t understand a lot of things and I will never get the chance to understand them anymore.

***

Flames. Flames and smoke, nearing my body. Air doesn’t reach my lungs and I burn from the inside as I try to breath a few last breaths.

One.

The little girl is nowhere to be seen. I hope she is okay. I hope I didn’t scare her too much.

Two.

Three. And the Plan failed.

Four.

The world is orange now.

Five.

It hurts. It’s hot. I burn, and with me dies my kind. You can be happy now, people. We’re gone.

Six.

My braids burn. I tried to look nice, I really did.