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I am alone on a stage.
I want to cry, but no tears come out of my weary eyes.
The wood is old, stained, and every movement sends out a sound similar to screeches of pain, as if the wood refuses to be used any longer.
There’s stripes surrounding, and I realize I am in a tent.A crowd of people sit in front of me, watching, waiting, eating popcorn. They look bored. There’s too many eyes.I have no idea what I’m doing here.
My hand moves on it’s own. I pull out a knife. It’s the cleanest thing in this room, too clean.The wood begins to cry out. Someone was walking onto the stage behind me.The crowd begins to buzz. I slowly turn around. Ninten is there, smiling. A wave of relief washes over me. Everything will be alright.
My feet begin to move towards him. There is a long distance between us, and my hands grip the knife more roughly, reminding me of it’s presence.I am in front of him now. I am so glad he’s here, my friend.
The crowd begins to chant, and my hands bring up the knife to Ninten’s heart. I can’t control them. My eyes scream at his to run away. Ninten continues to smile as I stab the knife into him.
I can’t think.
Ninten falls to the floor before me, blood pooling around my feet. The crowd cheers, laughing and throwing their trash at me.
The wood is old, stained, and every movement sends out a sound similar to screeches of pain, as if the wood refuses to be used any longer.
I want to cry, but no tears come out of my weary eyes.
I am alone on a stage.
