Story of Anais

          

   Anais painfully glanced down at her bleeding fingers, now forming a crimson pool on the ground below threatening to engulf her battered toes. She had held on far too long. Her reflection in the dancing ruby puddle ricocheted back mockingly, she had fooled herself yet again. He sold dreams for a living, and Anais was desperately looking for one. She bought it with her soul, made a deal with the darkness. The price she had to pay. These streets of forever, desires in the eyes she sees; but not the desire she wishes from him, for her. She collapsed under the weight of the pictures she drew in her head, of him and her; he was only an imposter, a cheap knock-off. ‘…Anais,’ she heard her fairy godmother call, Anais huddled closer to her and muttered ‘…tell me sweet lies, hide the pain of real.’ Her fairy godmother straightened Anais’ crown, ‘..sing, little songbird, sing. Stand tall as lions. Constellations light up night after night. Don’t let the coldness of the world freeze your vintage heart. They try to contain you in a tiny shallow bowl, but overflow like the fierce waterfall that you’re. Don’t let withered aortic pumps floating in practicality dampen the gigantic, beautiful oaks growing within you. Schedules are meant for buses, and planes; not for kindred spiritual connections.’ Anais grumbled under her breath. ‘…his callous conduct, his dismissive wave, I gave him more merit than he deserved, as I always do. I’m not afraid of the dark, mother, when the masks people wear in the light are far more terrifying. He was no different.’ Her fairy gathered her close to whisper in her ear, ‘..but sweet child, only a vintage heart can find beauty in petrifying masks too. Now, rest, my fair Anais, it’s time to let it all go. Your time shall soon come.’ Anais eyelids grew heavy as she thought “we had flatlined a long time ago, but sometimes illusions are all you’ve to hang onto. She gathered all her strength, called in the time of death,” and fell into deep slumber.