The Self Locked Inside

Long has she awaited your arrival, roaming the dark halls of night with nothing but the glittering stars for light.

Draped in a cloak of steel, her skin a sheen of deepest crimson - she's stared at her reflection for decades upon the shattered mirrors, looking for a sign that she was made for this destiny, this lonely fate.

How cruel could you be to lock her away? To wait until the end to finally confront her?

You pace these halls of oblivion now, the sound of your soul cracking like glass echoing in every empty room.

She stands, her hands bleeding from the glass scattered across the marble floor, and she lifts them to you as if they were claws.

"Are you still happy?" She growls, her face a contorted vision of fury and betrayal. "Was it worth it?"

You stall, your steps slowing, but you find your feet - and your courage - as you ease yourself into her ring of broken glass.

"I could not let you out. You would have burned everything. Every bridge. Every message of concern. Every extended hand."

You slowly and gently reach out and take her into your arms. She is colder than death. Her skin burns you upon contact, but you hold firm.

With your final breath before the crumbling temple of your existence, you whisper:

"If I had not locked you inside, we would have both been here before the end ever arrived."

You both welcome blessed quiet, finally whole once more.

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Been doing some free writes to get the writing muscles warmed up before I dive back into my novel. Can't go too long, or else the rust starts to build!

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!