@LeamonZest89It still surprised him that people thought they were free. But he found they weren’t living much differently. All in their little surreal cages some way or another. In some fashion or another they were all living in murky water barely hear the voices of ominous masterminds that had their fate all planned.
Freedom seemed like such a fleeting concept didn’t it? Near to existence. Everyone in this world was imprisoned somehow. Humans were imprisoned by the presence of Ghouls scared to know what death was like, how could he blame them for such a fear? It was a common fear, to be afraid of death. Ghouls were imprisoned by the Doves because they feared what the Humans feared.
They were fighting all the same fear. The fear of death. The fear of annihilation. So was he. He was escaping that too. The fear of annihilation. The fear of being controlled by someone telling him what to do with his own existence that he seemed to exert some kind of will over. If he had these thoughts and these considerations then he was not a puppet.
Yet he felt like one. A puppet on strings. Like all of this was planned. Like all of this was meant to test him. Guess he supposed this is what it felt like to believe in an existence of God. But God was real. Or at least he somewhat believed that a God existed.
His life may not be his very own life for too long. That’s the thought that scared him the most. That his very own life wasn’t going to be his very own for long. Still Humans have these funny little phrases like, take the time to smell the flowers. So he took time to feel the petals of the flowers in little potted plants outside of little shops.
All of this seemed like a meaningless existence? Didn’t it? Humans in their little pens and didn’t seem to think of themselves like herd animals. But they lived in packs. Defined their own existence with whom they shared their time and existence with. Whom they loved.
To fear slaughter as they were corralled into darkness. It wasn’t comforting morning thoughts, but they were thoughts that consumed him. Thoughts that consumed him when he walked through crowded streets. A stranger lost to the same stimulations and rhythms that drove existence. He didn’t hear the same voice or the same call to God that they did.
Meandering through the streets until he wandered off into a park. It felt like a whole different meaning of life here. It was more quiet. People paced with a different pulse of life. Grass would brush like green sea waves and the sound of the trees felt different. It didn’t feel near as restless, as chaotic, or as fearful here as it did in the crowded streets.
As people pushed and shoved elbow to elbow. Nervous of every stranger. Only worried about one thing and one thing only. Work. Selfishly pooling themselves along a string of life that is not their own. Here it felt like things were more balanced. Or it felt more balanced.
Maybe it was less noise for him. Less stimulation that made it seem that way. He bent down to pick up leaves. He liked the different shapes. A careful hand must have crafted these. A careful hand must have looked at these with a genuine eye of honesty. Not all the different Gods each Human spoke to had to be as cruel as the God he knew. Something beautiful must have made these beautiful leaves exist.
As he continued collecting different leaves that he liked to place in a scrapbook. He was too busy with their colors. Their fine veins in the sunlight. Their careful, elegant stems. Their colors of different greens, from the darkest bottom to the lightest tip, that he tripped over a pair of legs.
“Wo-aah,” he landed on the dirt hard enough, to look at dress shoes. Nice dress shoes. He could only feel a slight irritation with someone who would have their feet so wide out that someone would trip over them. Instead he simply looked up and smiled gingerly, “Oww.” he laughed nervously, “Sorry about that. I didn’t look very well.”
Fucker. 
