Destined to Fail: part II

By

Accipiter G. Goshawk

Here is the conclusion to Part I.

I hope you enjoy the ending of this little tale 🙂

She was The Joy of Baking, third edition, printed in 1973 (copy number 236891). He was The Life and times of Walter Rufus, first edition, autobiographical, signed by the author and printed in 1950 (copy number 50). They met late in their lives, long after she’d acquired spats of grease -and what looked suspiciously like raspberry jam- on her pages. He, on the other hand, was dusty. Silverfish lived between his crispy pages and he’d been traded repeatedly in exchange for many different -more valuable- objects. They met at a yard sale, when by pure coincidence, their owners traded them in for a used toaster and -in his case-, an elaborate set of bookends resembling the brothers Lumière, each in his own balloon.

For three blissful years, they rested cover to cover in an old apartment with only one bookshelf. No one ever read him, but she was often used (and even a little misused). He welcomed the chance to feel her close, a little sticky and maybe damp after hard night’s work in the kitchen.

It was unfortunate that the apartment building caught fire. A momentary distraction from the tenant in 46B and the whole thing went up in smoke.

They died together, feeling no pain. The fires roared and their dark pages crinkled together, their ashes mixing in the inferno.

*           *           *

“Stop following ME!” she shrieked at him.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at them.

He looked at her quizzically.

“I can’t help it,” he murmured softly, his glow dulling slightly. “We are connected. I spent countless lives trying to ignore the dull ache inside me, only to find you. I want to be whole, even if it’s for a mere instant.”

“We are DESTINED TO FAIL!” she cried at the top of her lungs. “Every time we meet it is brief, never lasting, and always so painful! I can’t do this! I can’t stand losing you over and over again! Leave me alone!”

She dashed through the Door, leaving him speechless and cold.

*           *           *

She came into life angry, and in a way, it became a recurring theme. She was angry for many things: it helped her deal with the painful moments, living with her parents, her school. Anger was so much easier and more effective than fear.

At a very young age, she found her dream. Unfortunately, it was snatched away from her, mere seconds before she could make it come true. She had wanted to be a concert pianist; by a fluke of fate, a heavy crate fell on her hands right before her final audition, breaking her fingers.

She healed, but her music was never the same. Where sadness might have helped, she felt only anger. She sued the person responsible for the crate for every cent he owned and even as her anger fueled her, so she used it to make a new life for herself. She became a successful executive and in very little time was earning a seven-digit sum. Her workdays were 18 hours long, but she didn’t care: all that mattered was the blind rush.

Everything changed when, one day in a moment of uncontrolled rage, she physically lashed out at a taxi driver.

She was far from stupid. In a moment, her whole life seemed to condense before her eyes and she broke down, indomitable no more.

She visited countless psychiatrists, but her depression only worsened as years and years of holding back and escaping came back to haunt her. She didn’t know where to turn anymore: there was no help. Her parents had gone years before and the few real friends she had felt powerless. From their part, the psychiatrists only seemed content with spouting out illogical mumbo-jumbo.

Finally, she met Rachel. Doctor Rachel Schmidt gave her, in one phrase, what none of the others could.

“Hell is not a place; it is something we build for ourselves.”

That had been the moment when she’d finally understood that she was beyond outside help. The only person who could bring her life back on track, was herself.

She left her home and travelled. She began to get to know herself, to make away with all the prejudices she had built up in what felt like centuries of existence. She let go of anger, fear, insecurity and made space for other things. They became emotions, not places within her and soon, she felt different.

Nothing was missing anymore.

That was when she decided to go looking for him.

Some years later, she met him on the pier jutting out from a sandy beach.

He was watching a group of younger people trying to catch fish, framed by a stormy sea and a grey horizon.

“I thought you wanted to stay away from me, that you never wanted to see me again,” he said surprised.

She sat down and stared out at the sea. He waited quietly, but his eyes were fixed on her.

“I don’t need you, you know. Not anymore. Before, I would feel something missing. But I recently figured out that that was all me. Nothing to do with you…”

“Why are you here then?”

She looked at him and as she smiled, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud.

“I don’t need you, I’ll never need you. But I want you.” She came closer, letting him cradle her in his arms, as the sun disappeared behind the clouds once more.-

5 thoughts on “Destined to Fail: part II

    1. 😊 I usually try to end the stories on an uplifting note. There are exceptions of course, but I feel that the world has enough bad things in it already. I need a little bit of light and hope, so that’s what I try and put into my writing. Happy you liked it 😊

      Liked by 1 person

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