“This city belongs to ghosts, to murders, to sleepwalkers. Where are you, in what bed, in what dream?”
- Marguerite Yourcenar
Fable wondered if he should meet him as he kicked the box away and went back into the house. He locked the door, before he sank to his knees in the hallway. He had given the box to Tale in the bar called ‘The Story Bar.’ It was where they met.
Ten years ago, Fable had never been in the bar before, but the name of the bar evoked Fable’s own. How could he resist? Inside, Fable met Tale whose name had also driven him to walk through the doors. Both men had met there evening after evening…
“I don’t have a choice. I have to see if it’s true if… he’s back from the dead.” Fable said weakly. He sat up and ran to the door where he shoved his feet into his shoes. Fable walked out of his house into the darkness.
Buildings leaned over him, streetlamps blurred like finger paint in the darkness. Fable felt alone and the world felt so big, but he had no way to enter it or act in it. He went to the military base every day, but did not feel a part of the military anymore. Ever since his betrayal, he could no longer fight with them. His friends would see him as the enemy if they knew he killed one of their own.
It seemed hopeless; without Tale or the military all his plans were dead. The one person whose existence seemed to be an extension of him was gone and now he had one life that was horrifyingly open to anything. In the blackness, the buildings seemed to fade from the light. He seemed to walk in a void of darkness.
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely for your entertainment.