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Your Life

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Listen closely and you might hear the words that still echo through these silent halls. You might feel the itching, scratching sensation that I felt all those years ago. And you might listen, just as I did that fateful day. You might follow the signs and evidences of what we now call magic. You just might even meet me in the same spot I have stood for years, ever since that day. But you, my friend, will never fully comprehend the terrors and dangers of this magic, and you will never know it exists, even when it dangles within an inch of your nose. You might find me, and you might not. But as for now, you are only walking down a hallway.
Your fingers brush the slumbering walls, trails of cobwebs clinging to your fingers as you stretch both arms out. You walk down the length of this hallway, walking in that T formation with fingers barely touching the dust covered expanse of plaster on either side. You feel trapped and lost, but when you look backward you only see ebony darkness, not even the wall you just touched is visible, seemingly disappearing as you walk. You brush the walls with more force again to make sure you aren’t dreaming and that the walls do exist, for at least the hundredth time since you entered the passage way. The glowing light ostensibly in front of you looms over the entire hall, but casts shadow behind you for an odd reason you like to think of as a trick of light or illusion, but you know it is much more than that.
After a while you get tired. The walls, the same plaster gray they were when you started, continue to have no picture and no doorway, no window and no furniture, no hope of survival, escape, or humanity. You slowly let your head drop, hands guiding you for the time being, still held in that burning, aching T shape that does no good. Your head snaps back up, suddenly alert. You could have sworn you heard a noise, you knew you had. For the thousandth time since you started this walk, you knew a noise was in front of you. But, alas, nothing came and nothing showed, the plastered walls still threatening on either side, caging you in to this path you have no choice but to take because of past decisions to enter.
Your legs go weak and your arms droop. For the millionth time since starting this obvious infinity, you want to turn back. But again your logic stops you- the dark is vulnerability, the task is too long. But most of all, it would hurt your pride to give up so easily. Just another day, just one more. Again, you inevitably move forward, trudging at an awkward angle you are too tired to realize. Before you know what’s happened, your almost asleep, day-dreaming sweet thoughts of home and love and security. You are almost asleep when you think of safety, the security blanket slowly wrapping around you until the self-induced coma almost kicks in when you hear the noise. And then it’s gone, your awake, and stuck in this never-ending hallway, only knowing you can never get back.
This, my friend, is your life. Eventually, you might make your way to a light spot if you choose to. Maybe you might start coating your walls with paintings and memories, and maybe not. And possibly you might end up leading a companion or someone even more special down your hallway with you. Or you might drown in your own tears. You might never see a light, and be drenched in darkness. It’s your choice of words, your choice of action, and your decisions that make this possible, and make you love the path you’ve taken.





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