Shared Pain

(Background information: I wrote once this story for a former ex-girlfriend and even published it online, but after the breakup I deleted it completely because I didn't want to immortalize her. But now I have decided to make them public again. However, since I got rid of the original story, I will completely rewrite it. I still have the plot itself in my head, but unfortunately of course no more details. This short story was well received at the time and hopefully this time as well. I've published far too many dark topics, so such a topic change would certainly be welcome.)

In an earlier era, when legends and myths were not yet figments of the imagination, a hunchbacked man once roamed around. His face was veiled by a dark robe and its hood. He was rarely spotted by other people, but when he did, he usually earned skeptical or fearful looks from them. Some people, however, thought he was a wandering monk and explained his quiet nature with a vow of silence, but all of these unwanted observers had this feeling in common: they were sure that this wanderer had something to hide.
But one day his restless legs explored a patch of wilderness in the middle of the forest, where he had an unusual encounter. A young, petite and rather small lady cried her soul out of her body in a heartwarming way. He paused for a moment and observed his surroundings closely. He wandered around for too long not to have learned that some situations could be potential traps and ambushes, but he could not see anyone else but this creature in front of him. Even when he stood in front of her for a while, she didn't seem to have noticed his presence, which also took away his skepticism, since in a planned act this woman in front of him would have at least secretly looked at her victim. Consequently, no decoy tactics and apparently no other possible robbers around them. But then he suddenly spotted something strange: On her back were unusual shreds, which did not seem to resemble any fabric that would be conventional for clothing. These shredded remains even had residues of blood. Cautiously, he approached her, she's turning her tear-stained face to him and then stutteringly asking, "A—a human?"
He nodded a no for answering her. She clapped her hands in front of her face and indulged in her self-pity again. "Oh, what do I care what or who you may be! I am a nothing, just a nothing."
While she was visibly tormented by her grief, he sat down next to her on the floor and remained silent. He watched her, kept her company in this way, without knowing whether she wanted it or not, and patiently gave her time to calm down again. She, on the other hand, reacted annoyed to his brazen approach and hissed at him: "Am I amusing you, stranger?!"
Again he shook his head in disagreement and pointed with his index finger at the strange, wounded remains on her back. For a moment she froze in pain and then whispered: "A lynx attacked me. Ripped out my wings, but I managed to escape. But a fairy without wings is not welcome among her kind, which is why I have to vegetate lonely and alone from now on."
She then swallowed hard and burst into tears again. "Oh, if only the beast had eaten me!" she sobbed and crouched down. She could not guess that this stranger understood her suffering more than well. So he got up and got rid of his robe. It took a short moment before she turned her mournful face away from the floor and saw him. In front of her she now saw his plumage, which he tried to keep hidden under the costume and gave the illusion of a hump. She was able to see what he was visually hiding, but she couldn't see how much more he was revealing: He was also an outcast, he too spent his existence mourning alone and was no longer welcome by his peers. But what she wasn't yet clear about was the hidden intention of his revelation: He began to tear out his own wings and screamed loudly and in pain, the little fairy shuddered at this self-destructive act with wide eyes. "What the hell got into you?!" she yelled at him, but he didn't let that deter him. He took out a sewing needle and thread from his robe and sewed his wings to the fairy's stunted wing bases. The stabs hurt her, of course, but the shock and surprise had made her defenseless and even this unusual, strong trust she felt for the fallen angel robbed her of any desire for resistance. As soon as he finished his sewing, she immediately tried out her new wings and full of joy she buzzed around him gratefully, like a playful little butterfly.
Thanks to his great sacrifice, she was now not only welcome back among the other fairies again, she even stood out with her unusual wings and would never forget his kindness. He, on the other hand, completely gave up the possibility of being able to return to the other angels one day with this gift and only the scars on his back would be able to remind him of his true origins, but who knows? Perhaps one day people could learn to accept him? But until then, he would continue to stray around all by himself.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.08.2024

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