The vines of fortune intertwine with each other. The threads glide over each other. Stretching and bending to each other. Dancing to cosmic vibes that he does not understand. He looks overhead as the light from the skies grows dimmer. His dreams that he made worked for enclosing him into a prison of success. He never thought that achieving his dreams would be his greatest fall.
The great fall. Hardly do we ever ask from where do they fall. To fall into the abyss doesn’t always mean it’s a fall into a dark wormhole that vanishes into the nothingness. The abyss sometimes is a wormhole of gold and sweet words from serpents dressed as friends. The knife that stabbed him, pierced through his heart falling with him. The blade made its way through the back where a back liquid seeped through the open wound. While falling, soulless women caress his neck, slithering their tongues across his spine.
He never thought that his success would be like this. Laying on the hotel bed with four Vogue models around him. His friend is fixing a line in the hotel presidential suite bathroom. He never thought that his success would be like this. He always thought that a trade with the devil was refined and sophisticated. I never thought that to sell your soul required the sacrifice of 10 virgins clothed in linen. He never thought that a simple smile was all it took for Him to steal your soul.
Enshrouded with success and yet the dagger continues to pierce deeper in his heart. The dagger, the devil said, he uses to steal souls. The day his agent smiled at him with a 2.5 million dollar contract, was the day that the devil swiftly came into the picture. His agent didn’t know better. For her, this was her break. She had worked with close to 6 writers before him and none of them attained the same level of success. Some thought that it was his charm. Some thought that he was naturally talented. Being a child to a famous writer, the media bestowed his talent on him. When he, in fact, enjoyed the adrenaline and sweat from running on the track. His natural talents were not good for his world and so, following the footsteps of his father, he lifted the pen and never looked back.
Looking back, he wonders whether his father experienced what he is experiencing now. Did his father experience the pain of the dagger lodged in his heart? Did his father experience an empty pleasure from women coveted by men throughout the world? Did his father experience fake friends leeching his fame? Did the agent know that this would happen?
With the world at his fingertips, he no longer could hold the pen. He was trapped in his own success, destined to fall.
Comments