~Cerberus~

This is just a random scene for one of my character's. I couldn't really figure out where to put it, but Dystopian kinda works.





Greif. Anger. Bliss. Jealousy. Love.

These are just a few of the states of mind that a normal person would most likely experience on a daily basis. These…emotions. A way for a human being to feel. Yet it’s not a physical feeling. It is supposedly much different. A mental feeling, if you will.

I have watched many people go through these feelings. Just there, to my right. There is an old woman. She wears a simple cotton robe and a feathered straw hat. I see a young man who shares her eye color, his chocolate brown hair disheveled as he looks at the woman. He wears the uniform of a man of the army. I watch as they embrace. The elderly woman is crying, but it is not sad. It is a cry of…love. She loves him. I see it in the way she looks at him as they pull away, the young man offering her an encouraging smile. His eyes hold the same shine of love. A warm, welcoming glance.

I have seen many scenes such as this one. A woman and her son, a husband and his wife, an infant and her mother… they radiate so much love. That is an emotion I would like to experience someday. But I am afraid I cannot. Though I feel a sort of gratitude to be able to stare at others, as if I could feel their endless emotion by just looking into their eyes.

I turn and walk away from the man and the woman, my feet making a distinct thump sound on the pavement as I make my way through an empty alleyway. I close my eyes and let my feet guide me, until I hear a loud crash, and have to open them again.

My eyes wander over to the source. A woman is screeching at a man, throwing a plate at him. I step over and catch the plate before it can hit the floor, then watch the scene unfold, staying silent as to not interfere with their business.

They are in a shop. I do not know what kind of shop, for I do not care for material things. It seems as if this shop sells many different items, from tableware all the way to blankets and fragrant candles. I sit down at the entrance of the shop, just waiting for them to finish their argument so I can return the plate to the young lady who yells.

“You cheated on me!” she cries. I look at her carefully and notice tears streaming down her cheeks, plopping to the floor with a steady flow. Her eyes seem more sad and betrayed, though her stance reveals anger. That, plus the fact that she is bludgeoning the man with glass items.

The man holds up his hands, an act of cowardice and surrender. He steps out of the way as a mug flies where his head was just moments ago, and I reach up and catch it. I put the mug neatly atop the plate.

“I-I’m sorry, Jess!” he stammers, grunting as she pushes on his chest, causing him to stumble back a few feet. “Maybe if you didn-“

“Oh don’t you dare try to blame me!” yells the young woman, Jess. Probably short for Jessica, or Jessie.

“I gave you a home! I let you eat my food! I let you LOVE me! Then pretty little Cindy comes along, and you cheat on me on MY bed that I let YOU use!”

The man backs up, shaking his head in denial. I can tell he is guilty just by his expression, the way his face twists up.

“Jes-“

“Don’t “Jess” me! Get the hell out of my house, and out of my store!”

She shoves him again. He turns and runs out, leaving me and the woman alone. She does not seem to see me, her eyes too clouded from the emotion and the tears building up, streaking her face and wetting her eyelashes. She falls weakly to a chair and sits there, sobbing. It is a choked, odd sound.
I stand up, grasping the plate and the mug, then walking over to her. I kneel down in front of her,
setting the plate and the mug on the intricate wooden table. She looks at me in confusion. I see her body tense. I cannot blame her. I am a stranger, after all.

I chuckle and reach up, my thumb running over her cheek, wiping a few tears off. “I think you dropped those,” I say, my hand dropping from her cheek and gesturing to the plate and mug. She swallows and nods.

“Uhm…yes. Thanks.”

I nod back to her, then stand. “You are welcome, Miss.” I walk out of the store, shutting the door behind me.

That seems to be the problem with love. It is not perfect. Love causes pain, and a searing sensation in your heart. Or so I’ve heard.

Anger and sadness, though…those are emotions I think I could do without. But you cannot have love without anger and sadness. And also jealousy, like Jess felt for the woman her lover slept with.

I sit down on a bench, blinking as I notice some blood on my left arm. I put my finger in the cut on my arm, probing for the source. My finger retrieves a piece of glass. …Oh. I suppose I should watch where I lean my arm. My life can be tricky. Since my body is so numb, I do not notice many injuries until a good time after they are inflicted. I put the glass in my pocket so no one else can be cut by it, then look up as a couple of adolescent girls walk by. They chatter to themselves, saying many things I do not fully understand. I watch and listen.

“Oh. My. GOD! He really asked you out? That’s like…OMGEEE!” squeals a short brown haired one. She skips alongside her friend, their arms linked as they go right past me.

“I know right? He was all over me, and did that cute little hair flippy thing!” says the taller one excitedly. Her hair is slightly darker than the other’s. I do not understand what the hair flippy thing is that she speaks of. But apparently it is extremely important.

“You are soooo lucky! He’s, like, totally Mr. Hottie. The most good lookin’ dude in class. I didn’t even know Cassidy and him broke up.” The short one smiles radiantly at the other girl. Mr. Hottie must be a very desirable bachelor…

“Well they did, and he totally wants me now. I mean, he asked me to go see Terror Mountain 3. Terror Mountain 3! That’s, like, the ultimate ‘stretch and yawn’ trick movie.”

...This mountain does not sound safe, or sanitary. I wonder if these girls parents know that they will be visiting such a mountain. Not my business, I suppose.

“Oh my god! You can be all, “Ooooh I’m so scared!” and he can be all, “It’s okay, baby.” Then you guys snuggle and hold hands and then you get a trip to Smooch City!” exclaims the short one.

They disappear from my sight in a burst of giggles as they turn a corner, leaving me baffled.

Young ones…they are so odd. Yet also amusing. Naming a city after the pleasurable act of connecting two people’s lips…it is somewhat clever.
Somehow.

This is another thing I would like to feel. Happiness, and excitement. I do have friends. I help my friends. I am loyal to my friends. I would die for my friends. But I have not had the pleasure of being able to enjoy my friends, like those girls. I have laughed and smiled, but I have not done it…naturally. I have to force my lips to part. I cannot just…smile from bliss.

I stand and step back into the empty alleyway, walking until I come to a more central area. There are many more people about here. Some entering the shops to squander their earnings, others just browsing or taking a walk. Countless vehicles pass me as I walk on the sidewalk, spurting out the putrid smell of gas. This is the city. Not the cleanest city. Not the nicest city. But this is my city.

A city full of people. Angry people, sad people, happy people, excited people, jealous people, blissful people, grieving people, and people in love.

I am none of this people. I am just me. I am not angry, sad, happy, excited, jealous, blissful, grieving, or in love. I am empty. A shell of a man; a man with no emotion. I am a man that secretly wishes to feel these things, but watches others experience them instead.

I am different, and many have told me that I am unusual. But I am me.

I am Cerberus.