RPGamer Fanfics: When Sorrow is Greater Than Anger


When Sorrow is Greater Than Anger

by Jeffrey Synn

What if...?

The words rang through his mind like a hollow bell. This was the dreaded thought that many had no choice but to speculate upon. Such was the nature of a conscious mind. Wondering about what could have been just can't be helped, and the man damned himself for it.

In fact, he damned himself for everything: his helplessness, his loneliness, his sadness, his rage, everything that had caused him the pain he was feeling now. It was his responsibility, his burden.

Because he knew that he could not truthfully blame another for his shortcomings.

It's all my fault... if he couldn't use me to get to her, then this would never had happened, I know it... and it's all my fault. He sighed.

The delicate figure that rested comfortably in the security of his arms remained silent, eyes closed in a blissful slumber. A subtle smile was fixed on the features of her sweet face, though as to what there was to be happy about, the man had no clue.

He had been warned. Something inside him seemed to know what was going on, what was there, what was at stake. He had been told by the faint voice of that something to embrace his life and what was in front of him. He had been clearly warned that he could lose it all, and lose it he did.

All my fault....

The man quickly examined his surroundings. What his eyes beheld was the elegant entrance to a legendary city of yore, all bathed in soft, filtered sunlight. "Majestic" wouldnât begin to describe the sight. He looked back upon the face of the one he loved.

Yes, this is the place. It feels... right here.

A glittering lake caught his eye, calling him. It was crystal clear; no creature of forest or sea dared to taint its purity. He peered into the pool as well as his offset balance allowed him.

Yes, this is the place, he repeated.

He carefully and slowly waded into the pool, taking precious care of the valuable bundle he supported. He gently laid her to rest on the bed of water, touched her face and stroked her hair lovingly, and bid his silent final farewell as he took in her beauty one last time.

And let go.

If only the emotional element of pain was able to amend itself as easily as the physical part.

* * * * *

That same man found himself in a humble lodge of an even more humble town barely a day after. What was intended to be his mid-morning repast lay cold and untouched on the table in front of him. Twin streams of tears, long since cried, trailed down the length of his pale melancholy face.

His companions, his friends, watched him silently from outside the room. No one dared, nor wished, to disturb him; they understood that he was in a sensitive frame of mind that was probably best left alone, at least right now. What he was experiencing needed to be accepted; his feelings and the recent events cannot be left unresolved. In essence, they left him to his own devices because it was his personal battle to fight.

A personal battle he lost. The strain was too much. Just simply too much.

A darker tone in his psyche, perhaps the one responsible for his pain, had warned him that he would know, truly understand, only when it was too late. It was too late now. And he knew how things were now. And he couldnât stand it anymore. He had been utterly helpless for far too much of his life, and this time, he would not be denied. Life had crossed the line when it had taken her. The pain was no longer bearable.

The stainless-steel fork he had been twirling mindlessly in his fingers for the whole morning clattered to the tabletop loudly, shattering the silence that followed him wherever he chose to go. He pushed himself and his chair away from his food and rose to his feet. He looked at his friends as if he was just going out for a short stroll as he left the building.

He could not let go emotionally. Try as he would, he could not.

* * * * *

He arrived at the city of magnificence late afternoon the same day. He had taken no stops; his pace on the road was as constant as the weight of his guilt upon his soul. He forced himself up to the banks of the lake he had stepped into what was hardly a day ago.

He peered into its depths, trying to fathom the deeper meaning embedded in the waters. But clear as they were, the precious secrets within were left unseen, obscure and protected in their shell of physical purity. Including her.

She would not approve of this. She would try and stop me. This I know. But, if she was here, next to me, as it was supposed to be, then I wouldnât have to....

He swallowed hard. His thoughts quickly jumped around the events of his past. He had lost everything. His home, his personal security, his happiness, his sanity, and her. He tried to remember the happier times, to keep things in perspective, but all he came up with were pleasant memories of her that just made him feel more alone in the world.

But he was not alone. His friends were a loyal, trustworthy bunch. He had chosen the right group as his companions.

What of them?

Yes... what of them? They were close to his heart, but she was somewhere a little more sacred. They would understand. Yes, he assured himself, they would.

The last of his natural impulse to continue on died out. He could feel it losing its grip on his being. He was grateful that it had lasted this long, otherwise, he would never have met her; but he was also strangely glad that it was gone. He could be at peace now.

With a few more tears and silent words bidding farewell to the world that had abused him so, he vanished beneath the waters and joined his beloved.

Jeffery Synn
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