Microfiction: A Pep Talk

“Calm down.”

This boy is going to reach critical mass. I can hear my associates chatter in my earpiece, telling me to get away.

“It’s okay now.”

He clutches the top of his head. His shadows are moving off the ground, rising up towards him in rock-like crags. A maw trying to eat him.

“I know it hurts, but you need to just stay calm.” I have my fingers on my gun.

He moves his hand away, looking at me with jet black eyes. Every time he breathes, a puff of fog curls around his frame.

“How will this ever be okay?” he says, his voice strained.

“Because I’ve seen this happen to people before.”

Red cracks start appearing on his palms, they’ll move to his brain soon.

“And what happened?”

“I saved them.”

He steps towards me, it takes all my willpower not to run.

“How?” he says, his shadows curling around my ankles.

I raise my gun and point it at his feet. He looks at it, all the anger gone from his face for a moment. The red stops pulsing, the tiniest of a moment, before starting back up again.

“Two options,” I say, “pain.” My fingers tighten on the trigger. “Or forgiveness.”

“Forgive?” the shadows pulse and writhe, and the red branches up his neck. “Forgive who?”

“Yourself.”

Special thanks to: Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, Michael The Comic NerdPulsatilla PratensisSuperGoof Media, and Zeony.

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