Pretend to Be
Mar 6, 2014 16:10:35 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Mar 6, 2014 16:10:35 GMT -5
“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
? J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Death was all he had ever known. He was okay with it, because death would eventually come for all those he had come to know as a Dreamer. It was a sad fact, sure, but it was one that didn’t bother him so much. After all, death was much better, he thought. There was no need to feel bad about anything, and you didn’t need to eat, or sleep, and there would be no more anxieties. It was a beautiful feeling to be free, and it was his. He hadn’t needed to know what he was like when he was alive – if, in fact, he’d ever been alive. He’d seen his name on the clipboard, but who was to say it’d actually had been his name?
And though no one had ever told him what it was to be a Dreamer, Mordecai had gone with his instincts. His instincts were to help the abused and the broken, the sad and the lost. And he would do that until it was impossible for him to. He had no idea if it was what he was supposed to do, but it was what made him happy. And the rest of the people didn’t seem to be complaining too much. Most of them couldn’t see him, but that didn’t stop him from doing things for them.
Mordecai was crouched on top of a streetlight, his wide brown eyes watching the people below him. His toes curled into the post for balance and he blew into his hand to create the powdery wisps. He smirked and spread them out to the people below. “Ta-da.”
? J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Death was all he had ever known. He was okay with it, because death would eventually come for all those he had come to know as a Dreamer. It was a sad fact, sure, but it was one that didn’t bother him so much. After all, death was much better, he thought. There was no need to feel bad about anything, and you didn’t need to eat, or sleep, and there would be no more anxieties. It was a beautiful feeling to be free, and it was his. He hadn’t needed to know what he was like when he was alive – if, in fact, he’d ever been alive. He’d seen his name on the clipboard, but who was to say it’d actually had been his name?
And though no one had ever told him what it was to be a Dreamer, Mordecai had gone with his instincts. His instincts were to help the abused and the broken, the sad and the lost. And he would do that until it was impossible for him to. He had no idea if it was what he was supposed to do, but it was what made him happy. And the rest of the people didn’t seem to be complaining too much. Most of them couldn’t see him, but that didn’t stop him from doing things for them.
Mordecai was crouched on top of a streetlight, his wide brown eyes watching the people below him. His toes curled into the post for balance and he blew into his hand to create the powdery wisps. He smirked and spread them out to the people below. “Ta-da.”
[ ooc | @alice ]