The Corpse [Closed Until Otherwise Stated]

[Elix Calius]

What truly is it to be a corpse? The simplest definition is to be deceased, but are there not times you feel like a walking corpse? Times when you feel cold. Hollow. When, if you use your imagination, you can almost ignore your own heartbeat. Times when you almost wonder if you were ever truly alive. A young man, perhaps in his early teens, looks up at the sky. He's experiencing this feeling right now, on the sunniest of cloudless days. Questioning what life truly is.

The storm clouds rolled like the churning of waves. The rain, driven by harsh winds, wracked itself against the thick coat of a man. He carried, in his arms, a bundle. It was vaguely shaped like a baby but was silent. Not a cry, not a breath. A corpse of a child, but still a treasure to the man who carried it. He ran with all his might against the wind. The pooled water on the ground splashed up and soaked his trousers and the lower hem of his shirt. Shouts from behind, a call to halt. He ignored it, he drove forward.

The sun was incredibly hot this time of year. He could feel the warmth on his skin, but it felt detached. It was like he was feeling with someone else's skin. Like the body wasn't his. He'd had these contemplations since he was small, and every time the question came.
"What am I?"

The rain was cold, it soaked through his clothes and the man tried his best to keep going. To ignore the chill leeching his strength and press on. He stumbled around a corner and nearly face-planted the ground. He managed to get his feet under him, though, and pressed forward. The end of the alley labyrinth was in sight. He was almost there.

He tried to stop thinking this way, though. Feeling like you weren't in your skin was something he'd merely accepted as something you go through growing up. Especially with the kind of life he had been drawn into, there was more turmoil in his life so far than many would experience as elders. He kicked a rock and took a deep breath. Soon he'd be able to focus on the here and now, right?

He breached the threshold of the alley.

His arm was accosted by one much larger than his arm.

He was knocked to the ground by a strong force at his side.

He sighed and accepted this life.

He fought to regain his feet, the bundle tumbling some feet away from him.

He boarded the ship.

He cried out in anguish as men in uniform took the bundle away with them.

He found his seat and waited for takeoff.

The world went black.

We all have our stories. Some are tragic, others are quiet. In the end, though, all things eventually become interlinked. When you see the connections, you'll begin to understand. A tale sometimes has multiple beginnings, and often things don't make sense until you have all the pieces. The life of an individual can be as simple or as complicated as you make it, and sometimes things are simply beyond explanation.

This is one such story, and it begins at two ends, but at both ends lies a corpse. A corpse that should be left well alone, for the seed of curiosity may bear strange and twisted fruit. Now all we may do is watch, and see what this seed blossoms into.