Fascinating Fiction

Who am I? I mean, really…No one has ever actually come to me, in all my years, and said, this is who you are, this is where you come from, this is why you are here, this is what you are. I simply show up and I do my job. Apparently, I am more than acceptable at my job, because I have a constant demand for my time and my …talents.

Why have I never stopped before, in all this time, and said, wait, what is in this for me? I have a fine home. I have plenty of food. I take care of my own. I rarely go without, unless we all go without for some reason. Be it feast or famine, here we share what we have.

So, why am I here? Why do I do what I do? Who am I? What do I want?

For five hundred years, I have wandered in the name of others, doing what they themselves fear to do. I swallow hopes, fears, agonies, sins, and fantasies. None of that matters. I sweep them all away in a heartbeat. I am adept. I am neither kind nor brutal. I am simply…am.

And yet…why am I seeking out these so-called seeds of discontent? These bitter weeds that thrive and grow in my heart unchecked and unfettered? Why do they snap at my heels so, demanding attention? Why is it I can no longer shut the raucous voices out, for surely they have been there all along and I simply forgot…or perhaps disdained…to hear them.

Why am I here? Here in these woods, the Moon glowering down at me this night, begging me to listen to random whispers from within. I don’t know what to do here. I have never been one for introspection. I am here to give that peace to others, not to take it for myself. It cannot be that after this long I am suddenly developing some sort of consciousness….could it?

Conscious. Consciousness. Perhaps now I am merely coming awake. Perhaps this time, I can meld what I have learned here and take it further in another realm. Perhaps it is time for me to leap into the fire and burn myself free from bonds I did not comprehend as restraining me.

Alas, this one job lies before me, needing to be complete before I take any action of my own accord. A contract drawn and writ in blood is, regardless of realm, a binding force that even the Heavens themselves must obey.

One more coil to unwind and unfurl…and then, Dear Lords, I am on my own.