56 Ashan, 724
.
It was rather late, yet Kotton found himself wide awake and staring out at the streets of the city. Things had become rather stressful for him the last few days. Things had gotten out of hand at the medical office a few too many times and one of those times had almost cost him his job if not for the aid of someone having caught his mistake.
Today was no different. The only thing that had changed was the fact that Kotton found himself sleeping on the job. This was something he couldn’t fathom himself doing. He was such a diligent worker, anxious even, all in order to be as perfect of an employee as physically possible. Nevertheless, for the past few nights he hadn’t been sleeping well. In place of a restful slumber, he had been running on empty doing multiple arbitrary side quests. And it was starting to show.
He couldn’t explain the reason for what it was that was troubling him. He didn’t understand why he was so distracted or what was haunting him with the drive to behave the way he was. He wasn’t sleeping, he was feeling gloomier than normal and his appetite had gone south for the season.
As Kotton stared out his kitchen window, he grew considerably more angry. Was it anger towards himself for feeling unworthy or was it anger towards others, those that viewed him as unworthy? His own mother hadn’t thought much of him other than as his being a defective toy. His blood-father? Well, he hadn’t been there since day one. Even now during reflection, Kotton’s pessimism called to the negative parts that attached themselves to his adoptive father. There, they highlighted many years of absenteeism with the prioritization towards work and work and even more work instead of choosing other matters as more important, matters that shouldn't trump the importance of emotional connection and relational comradery.
Memories started to flash like spurts of lightning inside his mind. It was similar to a fire being ignited only to be put out at rapid and impossible speeds; like bolts of heavenly electricity hitting the earth and striking trees into smithereens. That’s what it felt like- it felt like being torn into a million pieces.
Feeling like his mind was being tampered with, his eyes turned to coal and his mouth involuntarily screwed itself into a nasty grin. Kotton pushed himself away from the window and meandered into the living room. He absentmindedly grabbed for a large shard of glass, courtesy of a broken bottle of ale that had been left resting underneath one of the several couch cushions. Upon taking it in his hand he was struck by yet another memory. This time, the location was that of the orphanage.
Every day a child was plucked from beside him. They were to be given a new home, with new parents. And every day Kotton watched with eager eyes as he was passed over. It didn’t take long for him to understand the words that left the mouths of the many aspiring parents. He was defective; he couldn’t hear.
Rejoiced by the current time, Kotton found himself standing in the middle of his living room, a shard of broken glass held tightly in his dominant hand, his adjacent arm dripping with liquid smelling like metal. It had been done, but he couldn't remember having done it. All of his built-up emotions were drained, all except for fear. Tears were stained on his cheeks and his head pounded but in no dimension did it hurt more than the lines on his wrist or the wounds in his heart. It was funny though- he felt a substantial tension lift off his shoulders. Relief waltzed in and replaced all the negative energy with good, all except for that unruly sense of fear.
But the moment was short lived. Quickly he realised that the floor was rapidly starting to become as tainted as his skin. He rushed to find something to clean the mess, and on his journey, a bandage to wrap his injury. Ripping a sheet from one of his bedroom pillows, he used it to wipe the scarlet spill. He used the other side to dab at his wounds. During this time, he tried desperately to keep his mind empty, but the feeling of being alone granted nothing in the sense of lenience. As if thunder roared from a singular cloud above him, Kotton’s head ignited with a new pounding. He could only dissociation for so long before the hard times would come flooding back in.
Still dripping with crimson, he attempted to concentrate on something else. Low and behold, a random term from the writing course he took seasons ago took the limelight. It was as he was going to to retrieve something from his kitchen cabinets that his eyes glanced at a random scrap of paper. It was a written receipt from the spice shop. On it, Kotton had started to write random musings using similes.
He chuckled as he momentarily read some of the words on the receipt. He remembered the use of similes: figurative language that compares two different things with the word 'like' or 'as'. In his words, he had been describing the spice shop merchant's lovely smile and how it was as bright as the sun. The memory was nice, but it only distracted him from the original distraction he was trying to distract himself with. And that was finding an herbal remedy he used for times such as these. It was not often used because of its expensive price tag, but there was no doubting before Kotton gingerly applied it to his wound.
Within a few moments, he was enveloped by a coaxing ecstasy. The colour of the substance was teal and it smelled like candy, but more importantly it made the physical pain vanish along with the emotional. But it didn't solve anything, really. It just pushed that garbage into a different dimension for a different time.
At the mention of different time, was an automatic memory of him and his adoptive father when they had been hiking through one of the many forests of Scalvoris. Kotton had only closed his eyes, but it seemed that was all that was necessary to conjure up a vivid dream.
Fresh rime coated the limbs of trees and the surfaces of rocks and almost everything else was covered with the subtle pallid feature of a fresh, white snow. The two of them were dressed from head to toe in furry pelts. Kotton's father was telling him a story of love: he had been out in these very woods trying to find a flower for the love of his life.
It was love at first sight, he had explained. And the only way he knew to profess his love was to give her a flower. There at the foot of a tree, he had continued, was a magnificent peony, but standing just a few feet behind it, was a dire wolf. Instead of being frightened by the wolf, Kotton’s father remained calm. He was terrified, certainly, but he kept his composure and cautiously reached to pluck the flower from the foot of the beat, all the while remaining eye contact.
“Wow, weally?” Kotton had asked him as a few small puffs of snow fell from a tree above. The flecks of white landed on his nose like a powdering of soft sugar.
Kotton’s father smiled and told him that the wolf hadn’t attacked him because he wasn’t being attacked; it didn't feel threatened. It was a thing of balance, that if there is mutual respect, parties will remain contentment.
“What happened aftew that?” Kotton pressed, leaning closer to his father as they both dodged pine needle after pine needle from the onslaught of evergreens that sandwiched them. They were nearing a small stream as his father chuckled gleefully.
“Hold onto your pants, boy, and let me tell my story.”
He continued from the spot he had left off. His father, flower in hand, had left the wolf behind in a singular movement. He did not run, but he did continue to make eye contact as he returned to the love of his life. He gave her the flower and she took it. However, her response was nothing other than a rolling of her eyes and turning of her back.
“So what did you do?” Kotton asked with eyes as large as sauce pans.
There was a long pause before a boyish grin latched onto his father’s lips. He then proclaimed, “Well, I kissed her, boy.”
Bewildered, Kotton wondered aloud, “That wowks?”
“No, not usually. You should always ask someone before you kiss them. At least if you really have feelings for them. Perhaps I was just lucky or maybe the one looking down on me knew we were meant to be together so he let the moment happen.”
A blast of warm air hit him in the face as Kotton breeched the surface of the past into the present. New tears had begun to fall down his cheeks. His opinion of his adoptive father had gone from ones of negativity to admiration all within the blink of an eye. Sometimes reflecting on the beauty of the past offered heartache, because it was just that- a memory- a time in the past that can never been revisited other than in the form of recollection. But other times, a memory gave something more- a promise- for things to get better. A precursor to the potential change of a slew of bad days. Maybe a line of guidance for someone who so lost with indecision.
Kotton looked down at his wrists and noticed that he hadn't actually hurt himself at all. In his nondominant hand was a red marker and the arm he had thought he had injured wasn't injured at all. There were only several thick lines drawn against the inside of his wrist. This soothed his nerves. He had beaten his mind. He had done the impossible and resisted the urge to hurt himself using an alternate method. He chuckled to himself as fresh tears rolled down his face. But they weren't spawned from sadness, but rather hopefulness. He was getting better even if it was a slow adventure. Still, he needed to step out, search for something that would naturally pop his bubble of negative attitude.
There indeed was a place that seemed interesting; he had taken notice of it during one of his many treks to work. It was called the Siren’s Embrace and its purpose was to please its customers in unusual ways. Kotton was determined to discover what these ways were. To hell with his bandaged arm. He had applied enough padding to last the next several hours.
That being said, he swiftly waddled past streetlamps, admiring their eerie glow with eyes still set in a persistent gloom, until he was finally met with the glaring lights of the Siren's Embrace. He didn’t know what he was going to find when he walked through the doors, but he was excited. Almost immediately was the young man enveloped in a dashing array of floral fragrances. In addition, was a strong smell of alcohol and cigar smoke.
Was he in for a treat? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. But the mystery was all he needed in order to want to find out.
Today was no different. The only thing that had changed was the fact that Kotton found himself sleeping on the job. This was something he couldn’t fathom himself doing. He was such a diligent worker, anxious even, all in order to be as perfect of an employee as physically possible. Nevertheless, for the past few nights he hadn’t been sleeping well. In place of a restful slumber, he had been running on empty doing multiple arbitrary side quests. And it was starting to show.
He couldn’t explain the reason for what it was that was troubling him. He didn’t understand why he was so distracted or what was haunting him with the drive to behave the way he was. He wasn’t sleeping, he was feeling gloomier than normal and his appetite had gone south for the season.
As Kotton stared out his kitchen window, he grew considerably more angry. Was it anger towards himself for feeling unworthy or was it anger towards others, those that viewed him as unworthy? His own mother hadn’t thought much of him other than as his being a defective toy. His blood-father? Well, he hadn’t been there since day one. Even now during reflection, Kotton’s pessimism called to the negative parts that attached themselves to his adoptive father. There, they highlighted many years of absenteeism with the prioritization towards work and work and even more work instead of choosing other matters as more important, matters that shouldn't trump the importance of emotional connection and relational comradery.
Memories started to flash like spurts of lightning inside his mind. It was similar to a fire being ignited only to be put out at rapid and impossible speeds; like bolts of heavenly electricity hitting the earth and striking trees into smithereens. That’s what it felt like- it felt like being torn into a million pieces.
Feeling like his mind was being tampered with, his eyes turned to coal and his mouth involuntarily screwed itself into a nasty grin. Kotton pushed himself away from the window and meandered into the living room. He absentmindedly grabbed for a large shard of glass, courtesy of a broken bottle of ale that had been left resting underneath one of the several couch cushions. Upon taking it in his hand he was struck by yet another memory. This time, the location was that of the orphanage.
Every day a child was plucked from beside him. They were to be given a new home, with new parents. And every day Kotton watched with eager eyes as he was passed over. It didn’t take long for him to understand the words that left the mouths of the many aspiring parents. He was defective; he couldn’t hear.
Rejoiced by the current time, Kotton found himself standing in the middle of his living room, a shard of broken glass held tightly in his dominant hand, his adjacent arm dripping with liquid smelling like metal. It had been done, but he couldn't remember having done it. All of his built-up emotions were drained, all except for fear. Tears were stained on his cheeks and his head pounded but in no dimension did it hurt more than the lines on his wrist or the wounds in his heart. It was funny though- he felt a substantial tension lift off his shoulders. Relief waltzed in and replaced all the negative energy with good, all except for that unruly sense of fear.
But the moment was short lived. Quickly he realised that the floor was rapidly starting to become as tainted as his skin. He rushed to find something to clean the mess, and on his journey, a bandage to wrap his injury. Ripping a sheet from one of his bedroom pillows, he used it to wipe the scarlet spill. He used the other side to dab at his wounds. During this time, he tried desperately to keep his mind empty, but the feeling of being alone granted nothing in the sense of lenience. As if thunder roared from a singular cloud above him, Kotton’s head ignited with a new pounding. He could only dissociation for so long before the hard times would come flooding back in.
Still dripping with crimson, he attempted to concentrate on something else. Low and behold, a random term from the writing course he took seasons ago took the limelight. It was as he was going to to retrieve something from his kitchen cabinets that his eyes glanced at a random scrap of paper. It was a written receipt from the spice shop. On it, Kotton had started to write random musings using similes.
He chuckled as he momentarily read some of the words on the receipt. He remembered the use of similes: figurative language that compares two different things with the word 'like' or 'as'. In his words, he had been describing the spice shop merchant's lovely smile and how it was as bright as the sun. The memory was nice, but it only distracted him from the original distraction he was trying to distract himself with. And that was finding an herbal remedy he used for times such as these. It was not often used because of its expensive price tag, but there was no doubting before Kotton gingerly applied it to his wound.
Within a few moments, he was enveloped by a coaxing ecstasy. The colour of the substance was teal and it smelled like candy, but more importantly it made the physical pain vanish along with the emotional. But it didn't solve anything, really. It just pushed that garbage into a different dimension for a different time.
At the mention of different time, was an automatic memory of him and his adoptive father when they had been hiking through one of the many forests of Scalvoris. Kotton had only closed his eyes, but it seemed that was all that was necessary to conjure up a vivid dream.
Fresh rime coated the limbs of trees and the surfaces of rocks and almost everything else was covered with the subtle pallid feature of a fresh, white snow. The two of them were dressed from head to toe in furry pelts. Kotton's father was telling him a story of love: he had been out in these very woods trying to find a flower for the love of his life.
It was love at first sight, he had explained. And the only way he knew to profess his love was to give her a flower. There at the foot of a tree, he had continued, was a magnificent peony, but standing just a few feet behind it, was a dire wolf. Instead of being frightened by the wolf, Kotton’s father remained calm. He was terrified, certainly, but he kept his composure and cautiously reached to pluck the flower from the foot of the beat, all the while remaining eye contact.
“Wow, weally?” Kotton had asked him as a few small puffs of snow fell from a tree above. The flecks of white landed on his nose like a powdering of soft sugar.
Kotton’s father smiled and told him that the wolf hadn’t attacked him because he wasn’t being attacked; it didn't feel threatened. It was a thing of balance, that if there is mutual respect, parties will remain contentment.
“What happened aftew that?” Kotton pressed, leaning closer to his father as they both dodged pine needle after pine needle from the onslaught of evergreens that sandwiched them. They were nearing a small stream as his father chuckled gleefully.
“Hold onto your pants, boy, and let me tell my story.”
He continued from the spot he had left off. His father, flower in hand, had left the wolf behind in a singular movement. He did not run, but he did continue to make eye contact as he returned to the love of his life. He gave her the flower and she took it. However, her response was nothing other than a rolling of her eyes and turning of her back.
“So what did you do?” Kotton asked with eyes as large as sauce pans.
There was a long pause before a boyish grin latched onto his father’s lips. He then proclaimed, “Well, I kissed her, boy.”
Bewildered, Kotton wondered aloud, “That wowks?”
“No, not usually. You should always ask someone before you kiss them. At least if you really have feelings for them. Perhaps I was just lucky or maybe the one looking down on me knew we were meant to be together so he let the moment happen.”
A blast of warm air hit him in the face as Kotton breeched the surface of the past into the present. New tears had begun to fall down his cheeks. His opinion of his adoptive father had gone from ones of negativity to admiration all within the blink of an eye. Sometimes reflecting on the beauty of the past offered heartache, because it was just that- a memory- a time in the past that can never been revisited other than in the form of recollection. But other times, a memory gave something more- a promise- for things to get better. A precursor to the potential change of a slew of bad days. Maybe a line of guidance for someone who so lost with indecision.
Kotton looked down at his wrists and noticed that he hadn't actually hurt himself at all. In his nondominant hand was a red marker and the arm he had thought he had injured wasn't injured at all. There were only several thick lines drawn against the inside of his wrist. This soothed his nerves. He had beaten his mind. He had done the impossible and resisted the urge to hurt himself using an alternate method. He chuckled to himself as fresh tears rolled down his face. But they weren't spawned from sadness, but rather hopefulness. He was getting better even if it was a slow adventure. Still, he needed to step out, search for something that would naturally pop his bubble of negative attitude.
There indeed was a place that seemed interesting; he had taken notice of it during one of his many treks to work. It was called the Siren’s Embrace and its purpose was to please its customers in unusual ways. Kotton was determined to discover what these ways were. To hell with his bandaged arm. He had applied enough padding to last the next several hours.
That being said, he swiftly waddled past streetlamps, admiring their eerie glow with eyes still set in a persistent gloom, until he was finally met with the glaring lights of the Siren's Embrace. He didn’t know what he was going to find when he walked through the doors, but he was excited. Almost immediately was the young man enveloped in a dashing array of floral fragrances. In addition, was a strong smell of alcohol and cigar smoke.
Was he in for a treat? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. But the mystery was all he needed in order to want to find out.
