1. Alone
He walked. Newly born from the depths of a deep, dark, and unknown sea of conflicting thoughts. He softly padded along an eerie, dark gray brick road, with dirt packed into the cracks. The earth along the side of the path was arid, like a desert with no bright sun to warm it. There were trees barren of any color, their bark was dark, jagged, rough, and their posture stiff, and crooked. Their branches reached over the path, each time the wind would blow they would wave, their twigs like talons of a hawk careening down about to grab you. The sky was grey, the clouds each with their own dark hue, without thunder or lightning. Only a soft, cool, wind blew from these clouds. As he stepped down the narrow road, curving, and bending in rare, odd fashions, he felt deserted, marooned, stranded… alone. The only hint of another person’s presence was small echoes of familiar voices he could not relate to. They were for the ones that came before him, the ones who walked the same road, felt the same emotions, but were never the same. They were very different, in principle, and moral. They had failed to cultivate the morbid, eerie, ground that now lay before him. Or was it not them? Was it another being?



The thought spent what seemed like hours in his mind, being examined, dissected, and pondered. He watched the ground under him slowly go by. He stared cross-eyed at the bricks, paying little attention to the surrounding area, lost in thought, when he noticed a figure under one of the trees. It appeared to be floating, its feet hanging, its whole body frozen. As he came closer he saw it was a man. The man had his neck strung to one of the thicker branches, and his back was turned on the grey path. He had the same features, same swept over hair, same skinny build. The rope that held his neck in a tightly woven cradle tugged the branch under the man’s weight. The man had no rash, or rope burn under the rope, just pale, emotionless skin. His neck angled to where his chin was but inches away from his collar bone. As he moved ever so close to the man he slowly circled him to look at his face. The man was he, and he felt pity as his somber, turquoise eyes sympathized with the man’s last words carved on the tree stump. His eyes were partially open, and his expression was one of pure grief, sadness… regret. The man’s eyes, the same color as his, were a grey shade of blue, and looked painful. On the branch that stabbed out of the tree, the man had carved a phrase.
The hair will break your heart



He felt a deep sinking pain when he remembered his love. His first true love. He remembered the fun talks they would have, how they laughed, and a tear slowly slid down his cheek. He couldn’t remember why he would have ever hurt her, even if it was because of her own fault. Any guy would have, but what killed him in the end is that he acted like any guy would. He regretted that. He shouldn’t have been just any guy, he should’ve forgiven her, he wanted to forgive her. He walked back to the brick path, glancing over his footsteps in the dead soil. Something compelled him to stop, to go back to the man. He looked at the branch the rope hung on, and he noticed a small hole. A rotted hole, no, it was cut into the branch. He looked inside the small hole, and found a tiny piece of neatly folded paper, and a seed. He slid the seed into his pocket, and slowly unfolded the paper.
Under the bricks



He again started to walk back toward the road, but when he got there he did not go on following the road. He stopped, looked down at the gray bricks, and grabbed a branch by the road. He put one end of the branch so that it lifted one of the outer bricks. He saw a slight depression that continued on under the other bricks. As he sat there, removing each brick, a hole became visible, and in that hole was a bottle of water. He took the bottle to a place not far off from the tree the man hung on. He dug a shallow hole with his hands, placed the seed inside, covered it back up with dirt, and sprinkled some of the water from the bottle on the ground until it was damp, and had sunken to the seed. He watched as slowly, the smallest of saplings, only about 6 inches high, sprouted from the ground. It had one light green leaf, and its bark was a light brown that one might be reminded of Spring by. He took the remaining water from the bottle and poured it on the sloped hill the man’s tree was on. The small stream of water flowed down the hill, growing larger and larger until it had become a river, gently cascading the U-shaped rut it had dug into the ground. With this done he waited, soon small blades of grass would grow beside the river, and eventually the tree would bear fruit. The land would slowly become a lush green, and clouds would part, letting the sun peek through and warm the souls of the animals that would soon return to the abandoned land. He now felt a new feeling, looking at the tree next to the river; hope.

2. Love

Love looked through the window at the narrow beam of light that stuck from the far off clouds. There must’ve been another one, maybe the replacement. Memories of her flooded into his mind at that instant, and he longed for time to rewind so he may once more only see her. Only to see her, even if he did not speak to her, or hear her voice, just to see her one last time would be enough.The weather in his ice cold, snowy mountain had cleared enough from the usual white haze so that he could make out the lonely tree on the hill with Leef hung from it. Leef; Feel. He felt pity for him, for why he was so backwards, and unknown. He had not an emotion like the others, he just felt. He did not feel things like an outsider, no, he felt simply backwards from them. The pity did not center on this, it was pity for his last feeling to be a deep remorse, regret, pain. The things he’d done had brought thoughts so massive they echoed through all their domains, the thoughts almost inspiring the land to die. Inspiring the land to want to die. Had Love not been there to find the outsider that would soften the situation the land would have killed itself. Though he had found the answer he did not completely fix the problem, he just changed the circumstances. Now the thoughts did not echo did remorse, or regret, they echoed loneliness, and misunderstanding.

After a quick debate in his head, Love decided to go meet the alleged newcomer, he knew he might not even exist, but just the thought of what he might entail outweighed that. In an instant he set off. He had not realized the time he spent thinking, and remembering, had let the weather turn for the worse. The tree was no longer in sight, a heavy snow fell, so heavy he could not see 10 feet in front of him, and he was up to his knees in it. He had no coat ,or jacket, and it was bitter cold, which made sense, because love often leads to a bitter cold place when you find the disappointment of countless failures, and hope wasted on the toil of finding someone that liked you. The excessive fantasizing made the let down even more isolating than it normally would be. Love squinted at the bright white ice that surrounded him. The sun was not visible, but the light reflected off the flakes of snow to everywhere you could imagine. His feet were buried under the whiteness, and with every lift of his knees he felt the pressure of his legs shoving the snow aside. With every step some of the white dust would float into the air. The snow did not accumulate on his body, just everywhere else, not one flake would dare stick to his cold, drained skin. Hours had passed and he finally passed the whiteout. The ground was now the dead grey of Leef’s domain, or former domain. It truly did make the brightest of men sad, even on a beautiful spring day the flowers would wilt of the essence of Leef. He would broadcast his emotions to the land like a megaphone that could kill, and his last feelings did just that.

The beam of light still shone, now slightly more clear, and he could once more see Leef’s body on the tree, untouched, undisturbed. He found the grey road and walked along it till he found the hole that used to contain Leef’s bottle. Someone had opened the pathway. This only confirmed his suspicion. He continued to walk, the suspense building in him. He approached the hill and spotted the sapling, and the river. He took a few moments to pay his respect, and sympathy to Leef. Scanning his remains with sorrow. Then a noise came from behind the tree, a thud, like someone had fallen. Love cautiously walked behind the tree to see that a person had fallen to his hands, and knees. This person looked exactly like him, and Leef. Identical.
“What is your name?” called Love.
“People don’t choose their own names in life, why should I?” answered the stranger.
“Well, how do you feel?” questioned Love.
“I feel like that man is hogging the only good tree to hang on.” answered the stranger once more
The joke had a sad, yet funny feeling to Love, and Love said “Then your name shall be Compassion.”
“And what might yours be?” Compassion responded
“I am Love”
“And the man’s”
“On the tree?”
“Yes”
“His name was Leef”
Compassion took a few moments to ponder this answer, he had a deep look on his face, one that promised much thought, and said “Leef being the extension of a twig, or feel spelled backwards?”
“The latter”
Compassion was still fallen on his knees, and he quickly glanced at Love.Love was identical to him, but something about him was handsome, and attractive. Was it his charming smile, his soft yet deep voice, or his clean smile desolate of any marks, or acne. Compassion’s expression was stressful, worried, and restless. His eyes darted quickly, not wasting a moment, not looking too long at anything that did not warrant a thorough examination. He was not troubled, or made curious upon finding that we all looked identical. “Why are you on your knees?” Love continued.
“I can’t stand for the voices,” “They speak to me like I’m heartless, and can’t feel. They mock me, they do not understand that I am not as they think”
Compassion’s hands jittered, and shook. He was under a great deal of stress for someone who was only birthed a week or two ago.
“The outsiders, yes, they do not understand, they are ignorant. They judge us based on Leef’s mistakes. Change is not, unlike us, normal to them”
“But they must understand, she must understand that I am not Leef”
“She does not see you yet, it takes time for people to realize that change is imminent. I understand the pain you must feel knowing that Allie still thinks lesser of us because of Leef’s mistakes”
“The voices aren’t always there, where do they go?”
“Often times they are taken over by Comic. He’s the funny one in case you don’t know what I’m talking about”
“And you’re the loving one I presume?”
“Loving, passionate, caring, sweet, whichever you prefer”

Compassion rose, ran his hand through his hair, and quickly walked over to the side of the river. The water flowed gently, and he captured some in his bottle, and watered the sapling. It was limp, distressed, and sad. Love saw this and with a caring hand, patted the dirt around the base of the sapling. The wet soil seemed to loosen, and the sapling erected slightly. It had a slightly lighter feeling to it now, like Love’s touch comforted it. Compassion saw this and understood, though he acted fairly indifferent now, that Love truly was caring. Love had explored the small haven Compassion had set up in his ever so large portion of the land. He noticed it was slightly greener than the rest of the dark, grey desert, but not so much that it seemed a new world. He had made it alive again, and it was beautiful, but he would need help. With this, Love gave his sincerest wishes of good health, and left back to the snowy mountains where he lived.

3.Dreams


They stood on the grass, Neil and Lauren, and they argued. Lauren had spoke loud “You really hurt me Neil, something like that is not exactly easy to forgive!”
“Well what should I do then? What I said was perfectly reasonable!” Neil argued back.
“It might have been reasonable, but that doesn’t mean it was right!”
“Oh, and you would know so much about that you damn liar!”
“I said I was sorry, why can’t you just let that go!”
Neil pulled a handgun from his pocket, and placed its cold muzzle under his jaw, and said “How ‘bout I just shoot myself right now? Huh!? Will that fix it for you? Then you’ll never have to face me ever again!”
“Neil stop!” She shouted, tears streaming from her eyes, her mascara tainting her cheeks.
“Goodbye Lauren, I’ll see you in hell” he said softly, and intently. His finger pushed down on the trigger of the pistol, and Compassions eyes opened quickly. What the hell was that! A dream? No, no dream would be so terrible. He would never go against Lauren like that, especially if she was crying. It would kill him just to see her crying. It terrified him. Tears ran down his face, dripping off his jaw. He laid there and sobbed for a few brief seconds before noticing the noise in the background. It was a piano playing in a flat key. A voice accompanied it.
The tears are filling up their glasses
No expression
No expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow
No tomorrow
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very very
Mad world
Mad world

Compassion listened to the song, all the while his tears dripping on the soil near the sapling. He had never felt such sadness than to see her cry. The closest he ever got was remembering hearing about how she cried. A memory that belonged to a different being. He looked to the source of the sound. A piano next to the river, with someone sitting on the bench singing, and playing the sad song. Had he caused that dream? Had he caused such horror? Compassion was balled on the ground that now seemed so lonely, and isolating. He listened more to the song.
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places
Worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m lying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very very
Mad world
Mad world

The person on the piano stopped playing and turned around to face Compassion. “Sad, isn’t it?” He spoke in a light voice, wavering, his throat knotted up, and his eyes about to burst into tears. He stared at the ground, with sad, thoughtful eyes. He was another one that appeared the same.
“That was cruel, giving me that dream”
“Well we all have a bad dream every once in a while”
“That ‘dream’ is gonna haunt me for the rest of my existence”
“You’ll have other ones that will distract you from it”
“No, I could not possibly sleep again after seeing that”
“You know, Leef used to have that dream, but instead of shooting himself, someone would push the gun away from his head just as he shot. He could never see who though. He spent hours thinking how she would react if he had killed himself, and in fact he almost did kill himself, I mean aside from killing himself in here. He was going to kill himself in the outside world.”
“What stopped him?”
“Love did, Love convinced him that by killing himself he would either make her feel bad, or he would scar her for knowing that she had that power. He still cared for her above all others, and I’m sure you do too”
The night was dark, and the sapling was bobbing in the cool breeze. Compassion shook with the cold, but the piano player was still. He did not impose any dominating emotion, instead he had a mystical quality about him. His piano enhanced the feeling of sadness so much, and his voice had the sound of being chained down, without a means to express itself. It was a torturous song he sang. Compassion ran the words to the song, and that that he had just said, in his mind over and over again. The piano player spoke again “Are you familiar with the keys?”
“Isn’t everybody?”
“Say, what’s your name?”
“Compassion, yours?”
“My name is Dream”

Not one of them said another word. Dream just turned back around and started playing again. This next song was also very sad, When the Love Falls-is what it was called. Compassion looked into the water in the stream next to him. He saw his reflection, his eyes dark blue, the midnight blue taint of the sky reflecting into them. His tears started to run again as he remembered his most fond memories of her, and then how he’d hurt her. He would never be by her again, and that left him empty, without purpose, or hope. He thought about it long and hard while the music supported his emotions, whatever they be. He replayed the scene in his head over and over. The things he said, and how he ignored her apology. He clenched his fist into a tight ball and repeatedly punched Leef’s tree, with each hit a small amount of blood staining the tree. He stopped and looked at his knuckles, his tears falling and salting the wounds. The scrapes stung, the cherry red blood run in thin lines down his palm, and the back of his hand. He was enraged, and in his rage he noticed that Dream had gone, left his piano on the hill. The music had not played while he was enraged, what he felt had no steroid like the songs had on his sadness. What he felt was pure, unbridled hatred. He collapsed and sobbed on the ground until he had fallen asleep.

4.Disappointment

Compassion sat on the hill top, staring into the river, looking at how deep it had become. No longer the shallow stream ignorant of what way it wanted to flow, what water it wanted to carry, what fish it might harbor. Compassion was depressed. He had finally waited long enough for his last love to forgive him, but even then she was not happy to see Neil. It was not like before. She did not actively hate him, but at the same time she did not want to re-establish the friendship they had before their whole conflict. Why wouldn’t she? He asked himself this question over and over, coming up short each time, not knowing why anyone wouldn’t want to have back a dear friend that they had once liked. Was it something about him? Was he a naturally avoided person? As he stared off into space he did not notice Love waltzing up the hill.
“A fine day, is it not?”
“Just like all the rest my friend. It is quite boring, do you never wish to adventure, to see new places, meet new people, new loves?”
“Oh, and of all the people you would want to leave her?”
“She does not want me”
“And that is where the new people, and places come in. How about that Zoie girl eh? She’s cute, lots of charisma”
“She is a fine girl, and I would be happy to befriend her, but do you just want to abandon all your previous desires, all your past memories just abandoned?”
“No, it is a sad affair, but they are past, and gone, and so we must be. While the world goes on around you you cannot say you do not want the new offers that lay in the future”
“Hold on, I’ve lost my point”
“That’s what we all love about you Compassion; million thoughts per minute, so fast, and so impatient, yet so yielding, and cautious”
“That has not proven to be a good thing”
“Whether it be good or not it is you, and you do not have grounds to call yourself a bad person. One’s value is determined through the eyes of others”
“Some might disagree with you Love”
“Some have not been heartbroken before, or been in the position to be sympathetic to those who have, and to them I say ‘show some compassion’”
Compassion grunted with a grin forming on his face. Love continued talking.
“Besides, if she avoids you, someone nice, caring, funny, and compassionate then she is missing out man, her loss”
“Yeah, because I haven’t been rejected by every other girl for the last year” Compassion’s tone was sarcastic.
“It’s not that it’s their loss, I’ve caught onto that, but do they know what they’re losing?”
“Well my friend, maybe not, but you cannot offer opportunities to people too ignorant to see their full value”
“So true, so true”

Love had only just noticed the old, wooden piano that sat on the hill.
“I see the Piano Man payed you a visit. He does not often leave his keys to someone so new, well in fact he never has. What did he leave you besides the piano?”
“A dream that I must let go. It was not mine.”
Love stared at the piano. A breeze had rolled in gently touching the small patch of grass on the hilltop. Compassion still held on to the thought that maybe, just maybe, however a small chance it may be, Lauren still had some fondness of him. He quickly shot down the thought with the shells of the cold, disappointing truth that she had not even wanted to speak to him. He could come to terms with the feeling so many times, but it would never stay quiet. As they were both sitting there Love spoke to Compassion as if he shared his thoughts.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find another that you’ll come to love as much as her, hell it might even be Zoie”
“And with my luck I will fall in love with Zoie just to realize that she does not feel remotely the same way”
“That was Leef’s luck, his life was never the ideal one, but it must change as the new comes along. You’ll see, this will be good for us”
“As much as I will hate the disappointment of you being proven wrong, you have some sense in there”