A Curse of Loneliness

Loneliness was a constant presence in his life. It stung, it burned, but it was also a secret sanctuary in which he hid from the world that had taken everything dear to him. It was a blessing but entailed a curse, the curse of being alone.

It wasn't as though he had chosen this fate; in fact he would've gladly avoided it at all costs. But fate isn't something you can so easily avoid. A long time ago, or so it seemed, an old women had tricked him. She promised him prosperity, happiness in his family. Seeing as this was the one thing he desired, he quickly agreed to it.

The woman, however, did warn him of a price to pay. Overcome with longing and a sheer craving for what he never had in his life, the young man paid no heed of this important warning.

She did as she was told and granted peace and happiness to his family. Little did the man know that they could only achieve this gift without him, and hence he was cast away to a far off castle. The magical woman, having a kind heart, swept his memory clean of his past, so as not to hurt him.

Needless to say, insanity converged upon him, wreaking his sensibilities. He could not understand why he was kept there, having no recollection of the exchange between him and the woman. Further more, he had no memories except of dim, cold walls and dinners alone.

The castle was a prison almost. It nourished and fed, yes it did, but it provided no human contact, no warmth.

At least until a young girl, twelve or thirteen had entered. She said she was lost, and he had provided a place for the night, as it was the least he could do. He was not exactly sure why he did it, but perhaps after a long time of caring for himself he wanted to care for others also.

Human contact was such an unused skill and consequently any exchange between them was awkward. This was a nice girl and she did her best at making him feel comfortable, even though she was his guest. He suppressed any destructive feelings when he was around her and the more time spent with her the less he felt like he need to stifle those particular emotions.

When she asked him what his name was he did not know how to reply. A blank was all he could draw up from the empty recesses of his mind.

"Call me…call me P," he offered. It was an important letter, he knew that much. And if it was that important, then why wouldn't it be considered the letter of his name?

The girl smiled and replied, "That's the first letter of my name. I'm Primrose. You can just call me Prim."

"Prim," he said, tasting the word on his lips. It was simple and sweet, fitting this girl perfectly.

The next day another girl, older this time, arrived. They were sisters but very different. Prim was kind and soft and, on first examination, this girl was harsh and blunt.

"What have you done with my sister?" she said. Shocked at this new kind of behavior, he found his mouth dry and couldn't say anything.

"Tell me, have you done anything to her," she demanded. Up close he could see the real beauty of this woman. Her eyes, a multi-colored gray, shined with ferocity. Her black hair was glossy and pulled simply into a braid. She was a creature unseen before.

"I haven't," he stammered slightly. The older sister glared at him and posed a similar question to her sister.

"He's been very welcoming to me, Katniss." There's a name to go with the face. Katniss. It was unique to him, and slid out with the slither of a snake.

"Did he make you say that?" she asked.

"No. He's quite harmless and kind. Please, don't do anything to him." Harmless? As if the scratches on the curtains and the damaged windows hadn't all been caused by him. Prim stood in front of him and he felt a strange sense of gratefulness for this girl and all she'd done to protect him.

"Are you sure?" Katniss inquired of her sister.

"Yes. Positive."

"And you? If I find that you did anything to my sister, you'll pay a dear price." Price. Those words sounded slightly familiar to him, but he couldn't exactly place them.

"I promise that I did nothing." And then the older girl led her younger sister out of his castle, subsequently leaving any hope of camaraderie behind.

The weeks following the girls' departure were sadder and lonelier than ever before. It seemed that after having a taste of real contact with other people, the harder it was being alone.

Katniss haunted his dreams, always leaving something to be desired. Sometimes she yelled at him, other times he simply watched her leave his haven, arms hung around Prim.

For some reason he was fascinated with this young woman, despite their brief interaction. It resulted in the breakage of the china, the dent on the door. Why was he kept here? Couldn't he leave? But no. The doors remained locked, the windows closed.

In a fit of madness, he had tried jumping out the window. Instead of crashing into the gargoyles, he had merely ended up in the middle of his bedroom.

One evening he heard shouts coming from outside. On most occasions he would've ignored it, knowing that more often than not any person out there was far from gone. But this shriek, it rang too familiar and unnerved him from the inside out.

Running outside in what he was sure was a fit of absurdity, he saw a girl, no woman, with long black hair being mauled by wolves. Without hesitation he ran towards the wolves, pulling them off the poor woman. Instincts took over; he knew he had fought something or someone before. His strength, having been kept through his rages and spits of activity, was barely adequate to fight the wolves. He did not stop, however, until the last wolf had fallen.

When he awoke he found himself staring into multi-faceted grey eyes. It was her, and yet it wasn't. The face that had shouted accusations had been replaced by a worried, caring one. He did not know this side of her and had known it existed all along.

"Are you okay?" He glanced down and saw that he was in his house on a chair. She sat beside him with a bowl of broth, presumably for him to eat.

"Better than however I was before," he answered honestly, looking at the bowl. He was pretty hungry by now.

"I'm sorry about the broth. You needed something and-"

"It's okay," he interrupted. He had never interrupted someone before, but this seemed like the right time. Someone who's helping him shouldn't have to apologize.

She handed him the bowl of broth and he reached out a hand to take it. Every muscle felt sore, as if he had gone through a terrible brawl. But wait…he had. Hadn't he?

"What happened?"

"You don't remember? Here I'll feed you," she said after she saw how unsteady his hands were.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes. I do. You want to know what happened, right?" He nodded.

"First, I need to thank you. I would've died if you didn't save me."

"Save you?"

"I was going into town to buy something for my sister's birthday. It took longer than I expected and it turned dark soon. I know the way as if it were on the back of my hand during the day but not in the dark. As expected, I got lost."

"I heard a terrible sound and suddenly saw a pack of wolves surrounding me. I had my bow and arrows and managed to deter and kill a few of them with that but they were closing in so quickly I could no longer load my bow. One of the wolves clawed me and broke it in half. It didn't like that I killed one of them, supposedly the leader."

"Then I saw…you came and fought them off. I..," Katniss swallowed as if the next words were hard for her to say.

"I'm sorry about the way I acted towards you about Prim. I see that you are a good person. I don't really know how I can repay you for this."

"For what?" he said, his voice raspy and weak.

"For saving my life!" she replied indignantly.

"Why would I need to repay you?"

"I just told you why."

"You already repaid me by nursing me back to health."

"That doesn't count," she insisted.

"If you so insist on you repaying me, when why don't you tell me a story?"

"A story?" Katniss replied incredulously.

"Yes." A story seemed nice to him right now. He'd never had anyone tell him a story before, at least never someone as beautiful and exquisite as this girl.

"What do you want me to tell you about?"

"Tell me about a time in which you were happy." It seemed like a good topic to him, the one who had barely experienced the feeling.

Katniss began her story, slow and sweet at first but then building up to a grand climax. It was a story of hope, of sadness. It was the story of her life. And as she told it, he began to dream of better days, days in which a beast, robbed of companionship forever, could enjoy a moment with a beautiful girl.