The road, paved with a delightful colorful color of rose, went all the way to the clouds. In a manner that still befuddled the little girl, everything around her could be eaten with a grimace, and savored with contempt. It filled the tummy and made every single step much easier, for there was no thirst, either, the entire world had been drunk into her body, and there she was walking, to her final confrontation with death.
There was a big tree at the top that sprout out the wings of a butterfly, there was the a wind calling her name, again and again, in the wailing sounds of a floating whale, a rhythm to a song she had forgotten that did not have a name, and a dance around a bonfire, green flames, a magical place, and in the midst of all, the eye of the one who had killed her family, her village, her state, her country, and then the world, and had left her beyond orphaned.
“Revenge shall be mine!” she screamed her cheeks filled with marshmallows, but before she could swing her sword and shoot her rifle, a force of love compelled her to stop. It was the voice of her conscience which reminded her of the utterly pointlessness of revenge, which was enough to make her shed tears of innocence, and enough for the world of colors around her to crumble indefinitely.
It almost felt like everything was ending, but it never did. It was a moment of horror followed by another moment of horror, and one wishing that the horror would end, and when it did, there was not even the joyfully repugnant relief that one would expect.
So she cried, alone in the world, eating still what her dreams had made of her, and they was still free, understanding the wrongness of its deeds. It tried to make it up to her, but instead, it swallowed within its own previous malice, an unforgettable crime that the invisible hand of ideas punished severely.
“Goodbye, tormentor,” the girl said, trying both to smile and feel satisfaction. What came out of her was a sob and then a jump of joy, and then a silent whimper that became a chant.
All alone in a fantasy land, where magic existed enough to create jobs and force someone to spend only a tenth of a life enjoying the wonders of the world, she decided to go to where she would be left alone, thinking of her own misgivings.
“In the adult world, where I am older and stronger, I will have the flaws of my mother, of my father, by those I watch, the things that I did, and the things I choose to do with my past deeds. Am I going to be myself all the time or a collection of other fuckups’ impressions of me?”
She kept eating all alone to wherever she hid, memories of everything she had experienced swirling in her mind, revitalizing her from the brain all the way down. She ate so much and became a healthy, chubby kid with big, beautiful eyes and a smile so unique that nobody ever saw, but she felt happy that the road hadn’t ended and that she could continue and that was it, as far as she could tell. Nothing else made her happy, so she laughed a lot, enjoying her loneliness.