Hope.

TMITM

Megalomaniacal Arbiter
“Tell me a story, Angel,” said the Monster.
“Once there was a man,” The Angel said.
“What happened to this man?” Said the Monster.
“This man was shattered into three pieces.” The Angel said. “Eventually, though, three became four.”
“Did it hurt?” Asked the Monster.
“Very much,” The Angel said. “And it still does. But it’s not all bad.”
“Why is that?” The Monster asked.
“Because now he will always have friends.”

“I do not understand,” The Monster said. “What is a friend?”
"A friend is someone who cares about you.”
“Are you my friend?” Asked the Monster.
“Yes,” said the Angel. “I will always be your friend.”

“How do you do it?” The Monster asked.
“Do what?” The Angel said.
“Keep going,” The Monster said, “How do you keep living?”
The Monster sighs. “It’s so hard.”
“I have hope,” The Angel said.
“What’s that?” Said the Monster. “What is hope?”

“It means I believe things are going to be better,” The Angel said. “And they will.”
“That must be nice,” The Monster said.
“Do you believe?” The Angel asked.
“No,” The Monster said. “I do not… hope. Not anymore.”

“That’s sad,” The Angel said.
“Yes,” The Monster agreed.

“Do you…” The Monster paused. “Do you also hope for me?”
“Yes,” The Angel said.
“What do you hope for me?” The Monster asked.
“That you will begin to hope, too.”

“Where are my wings?” The Monster asked.
“They hurt so much, but I cannot feel them!”
“Your wings are gone,” The Angel said.
“You cannot feel them because they are not there anymore.”

“What’s happening to me?” The Monster said. “It’s so cold!”
“It’s going to be okay,” the Angel said.
“I can’t breathe!” Said the Monster.
“Angel, what is happening to me?”

“When the man shattered, one piece took all the pain onto himself. It broke him,” The Angel said.
“Am I this man?” The Monster said.
“Yes,” the Angel said.
“Are you this man?” The Monster asked.
“Yes,” The Angel said.

“Angel, where are you?” The Monster said. “I can’t see you!”
“I’m right here,” The Angel said. “But I can no longer feel you.”
“I cannot feel you, either!” The Monster said. “Help! Save me from the cold!”
“I cannot,” the Angel lamented. “I wish I could, but I cannot get to you.”

“It’s so dark,” The Monster said. “It’s so dark.”
“It’s so cold,” The Monster said. “It’s so cold.”

“Where are you?” The Angel cried. “Come back to me!”
“I do not know!” The Monster said. “I cannot!”
“It’s so cold. It’s so dark! It hurts, Angel!”
“Just focus on my voice,” The Angel said. “It’s going to be alright.”

"How do you know this?" Asked the Monster.
"Because I have hope."
 
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"Who are you?" The Angel asked the Monster.
"I do not know," The Monster said, "I am lost."
"Where are you lost?" The Angel said.
"In a dark hallway full of locked doors."

"Who were you?" The Angel asked the Monster.
"I shone as light against the darkness," The Monster said.
"Do you still revolt against the dark?" The Angel said.
"I used to, at the beginning," The Monster said.
"Now I am the darkness."

"Do you hunger?" Asked the Angel.
"Yes," The Monster said, "All the time."
"What does hunger feel like?" Asked the Angel.
"Like a long hunt with no kill."

"Are you happy?" The Angel asked.
"No," The Monster said. "I am not happy."
"Does the Hunt make you sad?" The Angel asked.
"Sometimes," The Monster said. "But it must be done."

"Do they run from you?" The Angel said.
"Yes," the Monster said.
"They thrash!
And scream!
And run!"
"Does it work?" The Angel asked.
"Never."

"Do you remember?" The Angel said.
"When we had picnics in the front lawn?
And smiled so much our faces hurt?"

"No," said the Monster.
"All my memories are of dark hallways
and inky puddles
and chaos consuming the ground and sky
and death shooting through my body like a bolt of lightning
and of pain like a barbed cage around my feathered form
and of clipped wings
and of broken hearts
and of shattered dreams
and of shards of a mirror
and of tears in the dark..."

"...And of Locked Doors."
 
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