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Hey guys, Chron here with another story, this time for LoST Season 2 Week 2. The theme was "Animal Horror", and this is my spin on that. Gotta be honest, this is definitely not the best thing I've written, but I hope that y'all get at least some humor out of it. Also, I'm against TT again (here's the poll), so I'll need every vote I can get. Anyways, on to the story:




By its chains I am bound,

Without sight, without sound.

Never heal, never feel,

always lost, never found.

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I had entered onto the stage of life as any other, to play a role of little consequence. I performed as I was instructed, never stepping out of line. The rhythm of the world was my master, and I its proud slave. Though I had been a part of miniscule impact, I was not without my purpose. I had been told my words could not be bested, and I could not be bested by words. For my voice, my pen, my aching soul, fused into one weapon, kept the darkness at bay. No eyes could burn through me.

At least, my facade breathed into me that sharp ideal. My heart, able to be shattered by the touch of a feather, knew the truth, and guarded it with all that it was. I could collapse at any moment, be whisked away by a misstep. The eyes... I could never escape their grasp. Without my words to strike down the adversary, I could fall to any strength.

It began in the sheer heat of summer. Due to my... nature, I had always observed these lonely months as a form of hibernation. I lacked an environment in which to unleash my words, so I kept them inside. Disabling my one defense, of course, made me more vulnerable than one could ever imagine.

The Internet had always been a place I had respected. It allowed me to challenge my intellect, and to relate to an alternate universe of like-minded individuals. I had never explored too deep into it, as I knew the dangers it possessed. I would never be addicted, never absorbed. It was a tool that I was to wield, it would never wield me as its tool.

It all seemed so basic. The dancing, twirling, rainbows, and pianos. The cheery music and the misplaced enthusiasm. The screaming of pain, of satisfaction, of occurrence. Words were not required to take something from this experience. I could lay my weapons down and accept this with open arms. Time, always my bitter rival, capitalized on my emotion. Minutes transformed into hours, hours into days, days into years, years into lives. Lives that were destroyed.

There was no fear here. Only love. Only peace. Only others. Never words. Never voices. No one ever told me that life was so simple. That the key to insanity was eleven characters away. Their pitter-pattering became my ambience, their softness became my touch. Their yowl became my broken voice, and their heart-melting faces were as such. My dreams were never dreams, but beautiful illusions.

They say my downfall was loneliness. My words had prevented any bonding. But words had prevented my bliss, my true emotion. Absorbed, enveloped, possessed, whatever the terminology, I was one with my love. The love of escape. The love of pure naivete. I found my truth in the rainbows, the pianos. Their eyes are fused with mine, burned into my fragile psyche. I am dead in my desire, and alive in the facade.