Island And Door

He was standing on the middle of a creaky wooden platform raised by four beams which seemed to be playing a game of who could sway the most. A larger, sturdier beam stood next to him. A rope dangled off it, gently brushing against his shoulder as if to comfort him. He felt comforted.

He looked out, still, and surveyed his surroundings. They were coloured by these grey clouds just waiting for the moment to spill. They would wait some more. It was only a few short steps, near enough, and he knew he shouldn't rush it. "Enjoy the moment", he told himself.

His eyes glanced lower to the sea of faces that surrounded him. They were on the brink of drowning him, like waves upon a shore, only reflected by the promise of retribution. He smiled. He felt powerful here, atop this swaying platform, observing the faces of fear, of anger, of disgust. He could feel the growing energy amongst the crowd below him, as if they were praying with a form of negativity and it charged him and he felt alive, more than he'd ever been. More than he thought he could feel.

He felt godly.

Poseidon, controlling the oceans before him. He took one step forward. Then another. Then one more. They wrapped the rope comfortably around his neck and he was willing to let it rest there. He looked around, directly in the eyes of scorn and rage. He smiled.

They pulled the rusty lever and the trapdoor gave way as he fell into satisfaction.


Distantcrushes | 25 April 2015 at 18:20

Disturbingly good. Total recognition for his/her 'achievement' and being 'rewarded' in public for it must be euphoric.

Post a Comment