Weaver of Words (Short Story)

Author's Note: I was poring through some old documents searching for my favorite short stories, and I rediscovered "Weaver of Words!" I wrote it some time ago, and my writing style has significantly changed since then, yet this award-winning short story still holds a piece of my heart. :) Let me know what you think in the comment section below. It makes my day to hear from you!

grayscale photo of a spider web

Weaver of Words 


Restless shadows writhed in the corner of my mind. They were only kept at bay by the soft glow of a single candle. It had been fifteen years since I had seen them last in this fantasy world. Once again, I was only a persona of myself, a child lost in an abandoned desert. Fifteen years and two months ago, I had stood in this same spot and defeated them for what I had hoped was the last time. Yet, even as I had rooted myself in firm reality, abandoning the world a fevered mind had created, the shadows had vowed to one day return. Now, I feared they had. 
~ ~ ~

Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I realized, not for the first time, that I was no longer a young man. Life had passed me by, and I had allowed it. Brown hair with gray roots matched my penetrating, taupe eyes. Those “windows to the soul” mocked me, accusing with their icy silence. I had accomplished none of my dreams, and as I silently stared into my unwavering eyes, I told myself I never would. 
~ ~ ~

The shadows surrounded me, coming as close as they dared. Outside my aura of light, only darkness awaited. I knew I could not possibly hold them off forever though. Already, they were pressing painfully against my protective circle, trying vainly to blow out my candle from the distance at which they stood. They whispered to me, telling me things I struggled not to tell myself every-day. I shivered, hugging my limbs closer to myself, feeling like a small boy once again. 
~ ~ ~

I left the bathroom and entered the single bedroom. My apartment was small and lightly furnished, but it provided the lodging I needed inexpensively. I turned on the computer and saw the half-written draft I had been working on upon the display. In frustration, I closed the screen and pulled up my email instead. I had one unread message from several days ago which I opened. Skimming the lines, I saw a reminder to attend the awards ceremony for my short book The Message Inside. It asked that I also prepare a speech. I continued to skim the message then looked back at the date and time of the ceremony. Biting back a string of curses that would have made a soldier proud, I scrambled out of my seat and darted towards the door, snatching my coat and throwing it on while I fumbled with my key. 
~ ~ ~ 

Only a stub of the candle remained now, and I knew it couldn’t last much longer. Yet, just as all seemed lost, I heard wingbeats in the distance. They grew steadily closer by the second, echoing and rumbling like ongoing thunder. When they were close enough, I strained my eyes and was just able to make out the figure of a green dragon with polished scales and sharpened claws that shone in stark contrast to the darkness surrounding me. 


“Gregarious?” I whispered in my mind. 

~ ~ ~

I began to trot quickly, frantically trying to compose an outline in my head of what I should say. Like most writers, I liked to procrastinate. Glancing at my watch, I saw that going even this fast was going to make me late. I doubled my pace. The short novel I had written had been small and devoid of action or adventure, but to me it had represented a battle of good and evil, and a quest for sanity in a world of maniacs. Strangely, it had held public acclaim for a few weeks or so, and I had miraculously made a profit on it. Yet, for some reason, I could not remember how I had ended the book. One would think that the author would at least know what tangent they picked. I sifted through the various endings I could have given it, trying to remember. 
~ ~ ~

“Why did you leave me?” I asked him. “We were best friends. You were my protector and you helped me time and again. Why did you leave me to face the darkness on my own? You were not there when I needed you most.” 


“You did not need me anymore,” Gregarious responded. “I had given you the fortitude you needed. You are still my best friend and always will be, but you had your own unique path to walk, just as I had mine.” 


Looking down at the receding ground, I barely noticed that that his wings had blown out the candle. “Why have you returned?” I asked. I feared the answer, but I needed to know. “Why have you come back?” 

I could feel the despair roll through him reverberating in time to the drum of his wings and the beat of his heart. Finally, the answer came. “Because the darkness has returned.” 
~ ~ ~

When I finally showed up at the ceremony, I was about fifteen minutes late and got a disapproving frown from the speaker. Staring at the set-up, I sighed. There is no inconspicuous way to slip into a seat on the podium. As I made my way to the front, conscious of all eyes on me, I vaguely became aware of the speaker. 

“Mr. Robinson is the author of The Message Inside, an inspirational piece about a young boy named Jeremy who fights mental illness. He struggles to overcome the powers of darkness with the help of an imaginary dragon named Gregarious. Several philosophical and symbolic themes are prevalent throughout. Thus, I would now like the welcome to the stage the author, Mr. Jeremiah Robinson.” 

She handed me a drab looking plaque then gestured for me to take the stage. 
~ ~ ~

I stared out at the crowd nervously. 


The shadows whispered to me. “You are worthless. You have never done anything to be proud of, and most likely you never will. What is a measly book compared to a life lost? You are growing older, Jeremy, and your dreams have become simply that: dreams. Never will you develop a cure for cancer, or save someone’s life, or accomplish any of your other goals. You will never be smart enough, strong enough, or good enough.” 


“You can do it, Jeremy,” Gregarious countered. “You wrote your book, didn’t you? Show them all who you are, what you have become. Everyone is counting on you. The world needs you.” 

~ ~ ~

I stared out at the crowd nervously. I tightly gripped the sides of the podium. 

“For the purposes of publication, the works in The Message Inside are entirely fictional,” I began. Strangely, I felt like throwing up. “However, the story I told when I first wrote the book, was the same that confronted me every day when I woke up in the morning. For me, the powers of darkness were real. Gregarious was a trusted friend I could always turn to in a time of need. Yet, humans cannot believe in something unless they have solid proof of its existence. If they cannot hear, feel, or see it, it might as well not exist. Yet for all of you standing here staring at me, the things that plague my existence are merely scribblings on a page, muddled thoughts that can be easily thrown away and forgotten.” 
~ ~ ~

“Why did you take me here?” I asked him when he landed. “It is the worst place you could have taken me to. There is no light here to drive away the darkness.” 



In the dark, his scales glittered coldly. They appeared black and formidable unlike I had ever seen them previously. The shadows pressed closer, clumping together to form an impenetrable mass. 

“I took you here so you could prove to yourself that you are mightier than you realize. Here in the most dangerous section of the mind, with no light to hold them at bay, the shadows still cower in fear.” Gregarious said. “You alone hold the power to vanquish them.” 

I looked around uncertainly at the advancing army, doubting the truth of his words. 

~ ~ ~

I continued for a while longer in that vein. When I had finished the speech, I walked down the aisle and out the door heedless of the stares that followed me. I was really feeling sick now, and as soon as I was halfway down the sidewalk, I sat down to steady my breathing. Hearing the doors slam shut behind me, I turned to see a young girl, about sixteen years old, running after me. 

She started speaking before she was halfway towards me. “I have loved your book ever since I read it for the first time,” she said. “Yet, I have hundreds of unanswered questions. For instance, what happens to Jeremy when he learns that Gregarious betrayed him and is not his friend and is a figure of darkness himself? You just ended it without regard to the reader!” 

I stopped still in shock, suddenly remembering the end of the novel. Then, I turned inward to confront my worst enemy. 
~ ~ ~

The words echoed throughout my head, bouncing against the walls and repeating themselves over and over again. 


“You betrayed me!” I shouted. “Do you think I am stupid? That I would not remember?” 


Gregarious hissed in annoyance. “Yet you fell for it anyway. Now you are in the medulla, the most dangerous part of your mind because it connects to your heart. You are worthless and stupid. Did you ever think I cared?” Gregarious snorted with contempt. Black smoke drifted lazily from his nostrils, encasing me in the smell of death. “It was all a trick, a deception. No one could ever care about you. You were desperate for help, for healing and would except any hope for salvation that fell your way.” 


The words hurt coming from him. Now I saw through his façade and the green scales disappeared. I saw him for who he truly was. Arching his back, his black armor rippled and clanked together. “Why?” I asked. “Answer me at least this. Why do I matter so much to you that you used so much energy to do this to me?” 


Gregarious laughed bitterly and replied, “Because words are important. They can trick and deceive, or they can rally an army. Words can destroy or build, alter perceptions for good or for evil, or lend hope to a lost cause. Words can be powerful, and those who weave them together even more so. You, my friend, are a weaver of words. With a single sentence, you could destroy everything we have been working so hard for.” 
~ ~ ~

“Your book has changed my life.” She continued quietly. “Humans, all of us, have so little faith. Things that appear as clear as day to a select few, are deemed hallucinations by others. I know, because I once had mental illness myself. However, I like to think of it as Jeremy does in your book: as a reality in and of itself that only he can see. Your book has inspired me to keep on living up to my full potential.” 
~ ~ ~

“With a single sentence.” It was then that I truly realized my self-worth. “Words really can shape the world,” I mused. “And as a weaver of words, I can help people. I matter to some.” With this realization, I grew overjoyed. No longer would I depend on what others said about me to determine my actions and future. 

I began to glow like a thousand stars. My glow destroyed the fragments of darkness. As I marveled at the strength that came from knowing and believing in myself, a golden sword appeared in my hand. 

I ran at the dragon, and with a mighty shout of triumph, I slayed him with a single thought, setting myself free from the powers of darkness once and for all. I knew in my heart they could never return. 
***

I allowed myself to hold on to the dream for a little longer, but like dreams go, in a second it was gone. I was drifting in and out of consciousness from the blood loss, but it was nice to imagine setting myself free. The thoughts of what I could have been and what I could have done with my life flickered away, only to be replaced by the gnawing pain coming from my slit wrists. 

Though I tried to forget in the euphoria that came with my slow death, I momentarily felt regret, but it was too late. The blood gushed into the carpet, and I could already imagine the landlord buying a rug to cover it up. They would find me some future day, I presumed, lying dead on the ground in a pool of dried blood, next to the unfinished manuscript of The Message Inside.

You Might Also Like

2 comments

  1. This is so devestatingly beautiful with an ending none could expect. Truly a master-piece and I love how you switch from external to internal - from story to reality. Beautifully done.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much! I was actually considering writing a full book along these lines set in the far distant past, but I only made it 30,000 words before I began to struggle with the plot, setting, and characters.

      Delete