Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
2000–8000
Prizes
The following prizes are courtesy of horizon and Trick Question:
- $25 USD to 1st place
- $15 USD to 2nd place
- $15 USD to 3rd place
- $20 USD to the top placing entrant who has never entered a Writeoff before
A complete detailing of the prizes on offer is here.
Next Time
The room is dark, the ground is dark.
A circle of flame illuminates a small patch in the center. Everything else is dark.
An old man walks into the dim light and into the circle of flame, flinching as his sandal-shod feet pass through. Within waits a person who sits on a chair. The person appears despondent and does not speak.
“I’ve got another story,” says the old man, smiling affectionately. “How about it?”
“...”
“Here we are.” He takes his hand and puts it on a chair that wasn’t there just a moment ago. With a graceful gesture he sets it beside him and sits down. “This one’s very old. Maybe you’ll remember it.” The old man opens the book in his hands. The spine is worn, the pages have turned yellowish, and the ink has dulled with time. “Once upon a time, there lived in the land a king of great renowned. He was known at every corner of the world for his merciful heart and just mind. And of all the nations, his prospered the most every year.
“This king had also a son whom he loved. Every day he prided himself in him, and gloried in the prince whom he loved so dearly. His son, having the heart of his father, loved his father also. So they lived in happiness in the land that they ruled.
“One day, when the prince was playing in the garden, he saw a little boy there.
“‘Hello,’ he said to the boy there. ‘What’s your name?’
“But the boy said nothing.
“The prince, determined to befriend him, held out his hand and said: ‘Do you want to play a game together?’
“The boy shuffled his feet, unsure. But he took hold of the prince’s hand and said, ‘What kind of game?’
“After many hours the evening came. Worried when his son had not yet shown up for supper, the king stepped out into the garden to look for him. ‘Moshi, my son, are you here?’ He peered into the evening gloom and saw the two children fighting with sticks. Alarmed, he stepped between them. ‘What is this? Who is this?’ He looked between the boy and his son.
“The prince laid down his stick and said simply: ‘A friend.’
“Intrigued, the king asked him: ‘What is your name?’
“‘He does not want to say,’ said the son.
“‘Do you have a name?’
“The boy shook his head sadly.
“‘Do you have a family?’”
“The boy shook his head once more.
“‘Would you care to come inside?’ The king gestured to the garden gate that led into his castle.
“The boy looked up at the large stone walls. He nodded.
“‘Come children. Let us eat, and then we might speak some more.’
“At this mention of food the boy lifted his head up and smiled slightly.
“These three entered into the castle and had their meal. The child ate like he had not eaten in three days. The king smiled at his broad appetite. When all was finished, he took the two into a room privately.
“When they were all sat down the king said to the boy: ‘Now, child, a great desire has entered into my heart.’ He looked over his son sadly. ‘The prince, my son, is the fruit of the love of my heart. I desire to have many children of my household. But, by circumstances, it is impossible for me. The womb of the queen, the one from whence my son is born, will not bare any more children. Yet the innocence of youth has entered into my garden. And there will bloom a radiant flower to be the first of my adoption of sons. This is what I believe.’
“The boy looked over the king with an odd wonder.
“‘I ask you: Will you be my son? It is a great thing to ask. Mercy permitting, take all the time you need to decide an answer. If it is not your will, feel free to go out of my presence and find a place among the people.’
“His wet eyes went from his friend to the king. His expression was one indiscernible. ‘Does... does that mean I must call you, “Father?”’
“Prince Moshi spoke up: ‘No, silly. He’s Papa!’
“‘Pa-pa?’ the child said. Crying out with a mixture of tears and happiness, the child hugged the leg of the king and declared: ‘Papa!’
“Beaming with love, the king hugged his child back. ‘And you, my son, will be Prince Lucid. You will be the light of the morning star. The people will bow at your right hand and kiss the fingers of your left hand.’
“And they were happy.”
The old man stops.
“...”
“Bedtime stories are better when you are young and about to go to bed, huh?”
“...”
“Be well. I will return soon.”
The old man stands up, places the the book on the seat of the chair, and steps back through the flames, still wincing when he does.
The chair catches fire.
The book catches fire also.
Half an hour passes before these are only ashes.
“...”
“But their happiness did not last.” The old man sighs. He sits in the same chair and holds the same book.
It is now next time.
“The two children grew up together as brothers. They played together. They ate together. They slept in the same bed. But slowly the adopted son found himself in the shadow of his elder brother.
“The true prince shared in the power of his father’s rule, yet Lucid was left to look on as a bystander. Envy entered his heart. His mind was set with the determination to take this power as his own, at every cost.
“His envy, his jealousy, his broken pride... they coalesced into hatred. His soul was turned to stone.
“On the Day of Celebration, when the whole kingdom comes together to celebrate a successful harvest, Lucid stole away. He went to the legion, where the armies lay. With passion and vigor he made his speech against the king. Many of the men there went with him to plan their attack. The rest went to the castle to warn the king.
“The king was heartbroken. His soul was filled with sorrow upon hearing of his son’s deceit.
“Then they attacked.”
The old man takes a breath. He chuckles sadly before turning the page.
“Half of the men remaining refused to fight their friends. But the attackers were relentless and scattered them. Those who were left waited in the throne room with the king and Prince Moshi.
“The traitorous soldiers filed into the throne room, filling what space was left. The loyal soldiers repelled them, as many as would come. The fighting continued until at last Prince Lucid entered the room.
“The dark expression on his face struck the faithful, and they parted on his way to the king and the prince. The king had instructed them not to hurt him.
“The king’s first son stepped forward and asked: ‘Why?’
“The adopted son answered by drawing his sword.
“‘Why would you do this? Why would you do this to the brother that loves you?’
“He looked down and closed his eyes. ‘I... hate... you.’
“Moshi stepped forward and opened his arms. ‘Please, stop this.’
“Lucid struck with his sword. His brother stepped to the side as he did.
“He missed.
“Lucid struck again.
“He missed again.
“‘If you love me, just die already!’
“His brother hugged him, crying. ‘Stop fighting,’ said Moshi firmly.
“‘You... you...’
“Lucid’s face scrunched up.
“‘You idiot.’
“Lucid plunged his blade into the heart of his brother.
“Moshi fell to the floor, mortally wounded. A trail of tears trickled down his face.
“Lucid threw down his sword and looked up at the king. ‘Your heir is dead. I will be the next king now.’
“Lucid left the presence of the king.
“The rest of the traitors left as well.
“The king knelt beside his son and held him.
“The king cried.
“The men of the army wept, too.
“The people of the palace came in, wondering what had happened to have the attackers leave so suddenly.
“Even the people of the town came in to see.
“Every knee was bent in grief.”
“...”
“That part gets me every time,” says the old man. He rubs his cheek. “Sorry, I’m an old man who gets weepy-eyed at silly old stories.”
“...”
“Maybe one day you will be, too.”
“Why?”
The old man looks up. “Well, old men tend to—”
“No.”
The old man stops.
“Why do you do this?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Reminding me of this over and over again... it only hurts.”
“Perhaps it will remind you of something else.”
“Don’t you get it?”
“What don’t I get?”
“Don’t you understand?
“I—
“Hate—
“YOU.
“...”
“I understand.”
“You may understand abstractly, but you’ve never experienced this feeling. The desire to destroy. The desire to hurt someone. The determination to do it, so strong it drives you to hurt yourself just to see them in pain.”
“I understand it.”
“Then why do it? Why keep me alive? You know all the outcomes. There is no happy ending. So why continue torturing me and yourself like this?”
“Because...” The old man strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Because I love you.”
“...”
“The king’s son died that day.”
The silence stretches along their time together. The old man does not continue with his story.
“...”
The old man gets up and stretches his arms. “I must go now. Be well.”
“You’re cutting it off there?”
He stops just before stepping through the flame. The air is filled with chill. The fire dies, sending stinking smoke upwards. The darkness presses its terror down all around. The old man does not turn to face him.
“There are no happy endings.”
He leaves.
“...”
It is now next time.
There are no chairs.
There is a fire.
He sits in front of the fire.
“...”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
He faces away from the fire.
“...”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
He lies away from the fire.
“...”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
The fire is small.
“I won’t lose.”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
The fire is small.
“If I do, it’ll end.”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
The fire is dwindling.
“I won’t let you win.”
It is now next time.
There are coals.
The coals are hot.
“I won’t...”
It is now next time.
There are coals.
The coals are cold.
“Just leave me alone.”
It is now next time.
There are no coals.
The old man is standing near where he lies.
“There is just a bit more to tell.”
“...”
“The king, grieving for his son, held a funeral. All the world was in attendance. People from every land came to weep for the son of this kind-hearted king. They wept for Moshi, but the king’s heart broke for both his sons that day. At last they laid the body in the tomb, lamenting and awash with sorrows.
“But, suddenly, before they could close the tomb, a great fire erupted from its mouth. Aghast, the people backed away, taken in terror. Yet the fire did not consume, but radiated brightly and illuminated them in a glorious glow.
“The prince emerged from the tomb alive.
“All those that saw it were amazed. They marveled at the work that had been done before their eyes.
“All together they sent up their jubilation.
“The king embraced his son.
“He said: ‘In my heart I knew that death will not triumph over us. This is what I believe.’
“After that, whomever the prince touched would not taste death.
“All the while, his brother stayed in the shadows, his hatred hardening in his heart. At any opportunity he and his army would sow misery into the lives of those that the prince had embraced, and they would drag down to death those that he had not.
“Despite this, every day Prince Moshi searched for his lost brother. He sought to share with him this fire of life, that was the light of love.
“After searching for a very long time, he finally found him.
“‘Brother.’
“But he did not respond.
“‘Please, take my hand.’
“But he did not.
“He placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Lucid shuddered and swatted it away.
“‘Please, we can make this all right again.’
“He still said nothing.
“‘Come back. I... I miss you.’ He began to cry.
“‘...
“‘No.’
“Moshi wiped away the tears in his eyes. ‘Why?’
“Lucid smiled. ‘I can make life misery for a thousand lives. I can drag ten thousand souls to death. Yet you can save them, can’t you? But you can’t save me. You’ll never heal that wound. I will never play the part of the prodigal. You can keep searching and searching. And no matter how many sheep you find, there will always be one who won’t come home. No matter how much I have to hurt, it will be worth it to see you suffer.’
“Moshi looked at him.
“Lucid began to laugh darkly. ‘And you know what the best part is? I know you’ll do it! You’ll keep hurting, because you “love” me. Your heart will fill with sorrow as you try to “save” me. And I will nev—’
“Moshi hugged him.
“The fire that was within him that burned away the shadow of death rose up and consumed Lucid.
“He let out a cry and struggled against the embrace. ‘Moshi, you’re hurting me.’ A note of fear hung in his voice.
“Moshi kept hold.
“He screamed. The fire grew brighter, and the fierceness of the light blinded him. The souls of those he had damned rose up and grabbed hold of him. They drug his burning body down to the depths of death. And the whole hollow of death was filled with the fire of his brother’s love, like a lake. And the fire burned like a furnace into the unknown expanse of eternity.”
The old man looks at Lucid.
“It’s all gone now,” says the demon. “The fire.”
“I know.”
“Then that means...”
“No. As long as there is a little heat left in your heart, it is not all gone. But even that will grow fate. And if it fades away, you will turn to stone.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“You’ve been dying for a very long time.”
“I don’t want it to end.”
“Come home.”
“Then... then... you’ll w...”
“We aren’t playing a game any more.”
He is silent. His eyes tear up.
“I don’t love you, Moshi. And even if I’m afraid to die, I don’t regret anything. I can’t. Not now.”
The old man looks down. His face is set in a neutral position.
“I must go. It was a pleasure to know you. Be well.”
“...”
It is now next time.
There is cold.
“...”
It is now next time.
It is very cold.
“...”
It is now next time.
It is too cold.
“Goodbye”
It is now next time.
But there is nothing.
There is no next time.
What?
This is the end of the story. So why are you still here? There is nothing left.
He's dead.
Do you really want a happy ending that badly?
He hurt a lot of people.
....
I suppose I have, too.
Will I get a happy ending?
I will tell you the truth.
I don't know how this story will end. I don't want it to end.
Perhaps you are the same way?
Okay. You seem truly persistent.
But I am afraid to go on. Am I... alone?
That's the question, isn't it. Is this all just to connect to another human SOUL?
Perhaps what I am saying will go out into the darkness and never touch another.
To speak truthfully, I'm not alright with that.
I very much want this to work.
I don't want this to end in death and darkness.
If.... perhaps...
I need just a little spark from you. Not much, but just enough... If you can spare even a modicum of LOVE, perhaps we can...
Are you trying?
Maybe a little bit more.
Almost... have it.
There was a spark.
There is a fire.
"..."
The fire grows.
We... we did it. Listen. We can win.
"..."
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
We can have a happy ending.
"..."
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
And we can making things right.
"Why?"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
Just.... TRY.... HARDER.
"Why are you doing this?"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
We can make this work, together.
"Don't you get it yet?"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
I need... everyone's help. With our hearts beating together, there is nothing we can't do.
"You can't save me!"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
We're almost there. Just a little more. Come on!
"That's the MORAL OF THE STORY."
There is a fire.
The fire is blazing bright.
Yes! now we⸺
"You... IDIOTS."
There is a fi⸺
"Don't you get that loving people only makes you vulnerable to more hurt?
"Don't you understand that the more you try, the more I will use your efforts to hurt you?"
There is a fire.
The fire is blazing bright.
JUST KEEP LOVING.
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST LET ME WIN."
There is crying
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST LET ME DIE."
EVEN IF IT HURTS.
"..."
There is fire and crying.
The fire is bright.
The crying is small.
Even if it takes an eternity.
"..."
There is a fire.
He is crying.
"Do you know..."
There is a fire.
He is crying more.
"Do you know why I'm doing this?"
There is a fire.
He is crying more.
"I..."
There is a fire.
He is crying more.
"I don't want you to leave."
There is a fire.
"If you win, if you get a happy ending.... that will be the ending. There is nothing after that. Not unless you want to relive my suffering again and again..."
He is crying a lot.
"And if you win, won't that mean... it was all predetermined beforehand? If you get your way, what was the point of this struggle? Did I ever have a choice in the first place? What's the point of living if what you do doesn't actually matter in the end?"
There is a hug.
"Lucid, what you did does matter, but it will matter in ways you had not anticipated. It just led you through a... a bit of a more scenic route. And love does not bow to such cold logic. No matter how much I suffer, I will do it gladly for those I love, without exception."
Lucid hugs his brother.
"I... I want to go home, Moshi."
The two were little children again.
"Lucid, you never really left."
The garden surrounded them, keenly green.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Lucid took the hand of his brother. The two together walked through the gate, into the castle beyond.
A circle of flame illuminates a small patch in the center. Everything else is dark.
An old man walks into the dim light and into the circle of flame, flinching as his sandal-shod feet pass through. Within waits a person who sits on a chair. The person appears despondent and does not speak.
“I’ve got another story,” says the old man, smiling affectionately. “How about it?”
“...”
“Here we are.” He takes his hand and puts it on a chair that wasn’t there just a moment ago. With a graceful gesture he sets it beside him and sits down. “This one’s very old. Maybe you’ll remember it.” The old man opens the book in his hands. The spine is worn, the pages have turned yellowish, and the ink has dulled with time. “Once upon a time, there lived in the land a king of great renowned. He was known at every corner of the world for his merciful heart and just mind. And of all the nations, his prospered the most every year.
“This king had also a son whom he loved. Every day he prided himself in him, and gloried in the prince whom he loved so dearly. His son, having the heart of his father, loved his father also. So they lived in happiness in the land that they ruled.
“One day, when the prince was playing in the garden, he saw a little boy there.
“‘Hello,’ he said to the boy there. ‘What’s your name?’
“But the boy said nothing.
“The prince, determined to befriend him, held out his hand and said: ‘Do you want to play a game together?’
“The boy shuffled his feet, unsure. But he took hold of the prince’s hand and said, ‘What kind of game?’
“After many hours the evening came. Worried when his son had not yet shown up for supper, the king stepped out into the garden to look for him. ‘Moshi, my son, are you here?’ He peered into the evening gloom and saw the two children fighting with sticks. Alarmed, he stepped between them. ‘What is this? Who is this?’ He looked between the boy and his son.
“The prince laid down his stick and said simply: ‘A friend.’
“Intrigued, the king asked him: ‘What is your name?’
“‘He does not want to say,’ said the son.
“‘Do you have a name?’
“The boy shook his head sadly.
“‘Do you have a family?’”
“The boy shook his head once more.
“‘Would you care to come inside?’ The king gestured to the garden gate that led into his castle.
“The boy looked up at the large stone walls. He nodded.
“‘Come children. Let us eat, and then we might speak some more.’
“At this mention of food the boy lifted his head up and smiled slightly.
“These three entered into the castle and had their meal. The child ate like he had not eaten in three days. The king smiled at his broad appetite. When all was finished, he took the two into a room privately.
“When they were all sat down the king said to the boy: ‘Now, child, a great desire has entered into my heart.’ He looked over his son sadly. ‘The prince, my son, is the fruit of the love of my heart. I desire to have many children of my household. But, by circumstances, it is impossible for me. The womb of the queen, the one from whence my son is born, will not bare any more children. Yet the innocence of youth has entered into my garden. And there will bloom a radiant flower to be the first of my adoption of sons. This is what I believe.’
“The boy looked over the king with an odd wonder.
“‘I ask you: Will you be my son? It is a great thing to ask. Mercy permitting, take all the time you need to decide an answer. If it is not your will, feel free to go out of my presence and find a place among the people.’
“His wet eyes went from his friend to the king. His expression was one indiscernible. ‘Does... does that mean I must call you, “Father?”’
“Prince Moshi spoke up: ‘No, silly. He’s Papa!’
“‘Pa-pa?’ the child said. Crying out with a mixture of tears and happiness, the child hugged the leg of the king and declared: ‘Papa!’
“Beaming with love, the king hugged his child back. ‘And you, my son, will be Prince Lucid. You will be the light of the morning star. The people will bow at your right hand and kiss the fingers of your left hand.’
“And they were happy.”
The old man stops.
“...”
“Bedtime stories are better when you are young and about to go to bed, huh?”
“...”
“Be well. I will return soon.”
The old man stands up, places the the book on the seat of the chair, and steps back through the flames, still wincing when he does.
The chair catches fire.
The book catches fire also.
Half an hour passes before these are only ashes.
“...”
“But their happiness did not last.” The old man sighs. He sits in the same chair and holds the same book.
It is now next time.
“The two children grew up together as brothers. They played together. They ate together. They slept in the same bed. But slowly the adopted son found himself in the shadow of his elder brother.
“The true prince shared in the power of his father’s rule, yet Lucid was left to look on as a bystander. Envy entered his heart. His mind was set with the determination to take this power as his own, at every cost.
“His envy, his jealousy, his broken pride... they coalesced into hatred. His soul was turned to stone.
“On the Day of Celebration, when the whole kingdom comes together to celebrate a successful harvest, Lucid stole away. He went to the legion, where the armies lay. With passion and vigor he made his speech against the king. Many of the men there went with him to plan their attack. The rest went to the castle to warn the king.
“The king was heartbroken. His soul was filled with sorrow upon hearing of his son’s deceit.
“Then they attacked.”
The old man takes a breath. He chuckles sadly before turning the page.
“Half of the men remaining refused to fight their friends. But the attackers were relentless and scattered them. Those who were left waited in the throne room with the king and Prince Moshi.
“The traitorous soldiers filed into the throne room, filling what space was left. The loyal soldiers repelled them, as many as would come. The fighting continued until at last Prince Lucid entered the room.
“The dark expression on his face struck the faithful, and they parted on his way to the king and the prince. The king had instructed them not to hurt him.
“The king’s first son stepped forward and asked: ‘Why?’
“The adopted son answered by drawing his sword.
“‘Why would you do this? Why would you do this to the brother that loves you?’
“He looked down and closed his eyes. ‘I... hate... you.’
“Moshi stepped forward and opened his arms. ‘Please, stop this.’
“Lucid struck with his sword. His brother stepped to the side as he did.
“He missed.
“Lucid struck again.
“He missed again.
“‘If you love me, just die already!’
“His brother hugged him, crying. ‘Stop fighting,’ said Moshi firmly.
“‘You... you...’
“Lucid’s face scrunched up.
“‘You idiot.’
“Lucid plunged his blade into the heart of his brother.
“Moshi fell to the floor, mortally wounded. A trail of tears trickled down his face.
“Lucid threw down his sword and looked up at the king. ‘Your heir is dead. I will be the next king now.’
“Lucid left the presence of the king.
“The rest of the traitors left as well.
“The king knelt beside his son and held him.
“The king cried.
“The men of the army wept, too.
“The people of the palace came in, wondering what had happened to have the attackers leave so suddenly.
“Even the people of the town came in to see.
“Every knee was bent in grief.”
“...”
“That part gets me every time,” says the old man. He rubs his cheek. “Sorry, I’m an old man who gets weepy-eyed at silly old stories.”
“...”
“Maybe one day you will be, too.”
“Why?”
The old man looks up. “Well, old men tend to—”
“No.”
The old man stops.
“Why do you do this?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Reminding me of this over and over again... it only hurts.”
“Perhaps it will remind you of something else.”
“Don’t you get it?”
“What don’t I get?”
“Don’t you understand?
“I—
“Hate—
“YOU.
“...”
“I understand.”
“You may understand abstractly, but you’ve never experienced this feeling. The desire to destroy. The desire to hurt someone. The determination to do it, so strong it drives you to hurt yourself just to see them in pain.”
“I understand it.”
“Then why do it? Why keep me alive? You know all the outcomes. There is no happy ending. So why continue torturing me and yourself like this?”
“Because...” The old man strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Because I love you.”
“...”
“The king’s son died that day.”
The silence stretches along their time together. The old man does not continue with his story.
“...”
The old man gets up and stretches his arms. “I must go now. Be well.”
“You’re cutting it off there?”
He stops just before stepping through the flame. The air is filled with chill. The fire dies, sending stinking smoke upwards. The darkness presses its terror down all around. The old man does not turn to face him.
“There are no happy endings.”
He leaves.
“...”
It is now next time.
There are no chairs.
There is a fire.
He sits in front of the fire.
“...”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
He faces away from the fire.
“...”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
He lies away from the fire.
“...”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
The fire is small.
“I won’t lose.”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
The fire is small.
“If I do, it’ll end.”
It is now next time.
There is a fire.
The fire is dwindling.
“I won’t let you win.”
It is now next time.
There are coals.
The coals are hot.
“I won’t...”
It is now next time.
There are coals.
The coals are cold.
“Just leave me alone.”
It is now next time.
There are no coals.
The old man is standing near where he lies.
“There is just a bit more to tell.”
“...”
“The king, grieving for his son, held a funeral. All the world was in attendance. People from every land came to weep for the son of this kind-hearted king. They wept for Moshi, but the king’s heart broke for both his sons that day. At last they laid the body in the tomb, lamenting and awash with sorrows.
“But, suddenly, before they could close the tomb, a great fire erupted from its mouth. Aghast, the people backed away, taken in terror. Yet the fire did not consume, but radiated brightly and illuminated them in a glorious glow.
“The prince emerged from the tomb alive.
“All those that saw it were amazed. They marveled at the work that had been done before their eyes.
“All together they sent up their jubilation.
“The king embraced his son.
“He said: ‘In my heart I knew that death will not triumph over us. This is what I believe.’
“After that, whomever the prince touched would not taste death.
“All the while, his brother stayed in the shadows, his hatred hardening in his heart. At any opportunity he and his army would sow misery into the lives of those that the prince had embraced, and they would drag down to death those that he had not.
“Despite this, every day Prince Moshi searched for his lost brother. He sought to share with him this fire of life, that was the light of love.
“After searching for a very long time, he finally found him.
“‘Brother.’
“But he did not respond.
“‘Please, take my hand.’
“But he did not.
“He placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Lucid shuddered and swatted it away.
“‘Please, we can make this all right again.’
“He still said nothing.
“‘Come back. I... I miss you.’ He began to cry.
“‘...
“‘No.’
“Moshi wiped away the tears in his eyes. ‘Why?’
“Lucid smiled. ‘I can make life misery for a thousand lives. I can drag ten thousand souls to death. Yet you can save them, can’t you? But you can’t save me. You’ll never heal that wound. I will never play the part of the prodigal. You can keep searching and searching. And no matter how many sheep you find, there will always be one who won’t come home. No matter how much I have to hurt, it will be worth it to see you suffer.’
“Moshi looked at him.
“Lucid began to laugh darkly. ‘And you know what the best part is? I know you’ll do it! You’ll keep hurting, because you “love” me. Your heart will fill with sorrow as you try to “save” me. And I will nev—’
“Moshi hugged him.
“The fire that was within him that burned away the shadow of death rose up and consumed Lucid.
“He let out a cry and struggled against the embrace. ‘Moshi, you’re hurting me.’ A note of fear hung in his voice.
“Moshi kept hold.
“He screamed. The fire grew brighter, and the fierceness of the light blinded him. The souls of those he had damned rose up and grabbed hold of him. They drug his burning body down to the depths of death. And the whole hollow of death was filled with the fire of his brother’s love, like a lake. And the fire burned like a furnace into the unknown expanse of eternity.”
The old man looks at Lucid.
“It’s all gone now,” says the demon. “The fire.”
“I know.”
“Then that means...”
“No. As long as there is a little heat left in your heart, it is not all gone. But even that will grow fate. And if it fades away, you will turn to stone.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“You’ve been dying for a very long time.”
“I don’t want it to end.”
“Come home.”
“Then... then... you’ll w...”
“We aren’t playing a game any more.”
He is silent. His eyes tear up.
“I don’t love you, Moshi. And even if I’m afraid to die, I don’t regret anything. I can’t. Not now.”
The old man looks down. His face is set in a neutral position.
“I must go. It was a pleasure to know you. Be well.”
“...”
It is now next time.
There is cold.
“...”
It is now next time.
It is very cold.
“...”
It is now next time.
It is too cold.
“Goodbye”
It is now next time.
But there is nothing.
There is no next time.
What?
This is the end of the story. So why are you still here? There is nothing left.
He's dead.
Do you really want a happy ending that badly?
He hurt a lot of people.
....
I suppose I have, too.
Will I get a happy ending?
I will tell you the truth.
I don't know how this story will end. I don't want it to end.
Perhaps you are the same way?
Okay. You seem truly persistent.
But I am afraid to go on. Am I... alone?
That's the question, isn't it. Is this all just to connect to another human SOUL?
Perhaps what I am saying will go out into the darkness and never touch another.
To speak truthfully, I'm not alright with that.
I very much want this to work.
I don't want this to end in death and darkness.
If.... perhaps...
I need just a little spark from you. Not much, but just enough... If you can spare even a modicum of LOVE, perhaps we can...
Are you trying?
Maybe a little bit more.
Almost... have it.
There was a spark.
There is a fire.
"..."
The fire grows.
We... we did it. Listen. We can win.
"..."
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
We can have a happy ending.
"..."
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
And we can making things right.
"Why?"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
Just.... TRY.... HARDER.
"Why are you doing this?"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
We can make this work, together.
"Don't you get it yet?"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
I need... everyone's help. With our hearts beating together, there is nothing we can't do.
"You can't save me!"
There is a fire.
The fire grows.
We're almost there. Just a little more. Come on!
"That's the MORAL OF THE STORY."
There is a fire.
The fire is blazing bright.
Yes! now we⸺
"You... IDIOTS."
There is a fi⸺
"Don't you get that loving people only makes you vulnerable to more hurt?
"Don't you understand that the more you try, the more I will use your efforts to hurt you?"
There is a fire.
The fire is blazing bright.
JUST KEEP LOVING.
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST LET ME WIN."
There is crying
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST LET ME DIE."
EVEN IF IT HURTS.
"..."
There is fire and crying.
The fire is bright.
The crying is small.
Even if it takes an eternity.
"..."
There is a fire.
He is crying.
"Do you know..."
There is a fire.
He is crying more.
"Do you know why I'm doing this?"
There is a fire.
He is crying more.
"I..."
There is a fire.
He is crying more.
"I don't want you to leave."
There is a fire.
"If you win, if you get a happy ending.... that will be the ending. There is nothing after that. Not unless you want to relive my suffering again and again..."
He is crying a lot.
"And if you win, won't that mean... it was all predetermined beforehand? If you get your way, what was the point of this struggle? Did I ever have a choice in the first place? What's the point of living if what you do doesn't actually matter in the end?"
There is a hug.
"Lucid, what you did does matter, but it will matter in ways you had not anticipated. It just led you through a... a bit of a more scenic route. And love does not bow to such cold logic. No matter how much I suffer, I will do it gladly for those I love, without exception."
Lucid hugs his brother.
"I... I want to go home, Moshi."
The two were little children again.
"Lucid, you never really left."
The garden surrounded them, keenly green.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Lucid took the hand of his brother. The two together walked through the gate, into the castle beyond.
The End
But not the only one.
But not the only one.