Fairy Godmother

He pulled away. Turned his back on it all. Stepped outside for a time alone. Walked down from the highs, sinking slowly into the lows. Hiding behind a corner he could not turn. Spending a moment of eternity inside the purgatory of fear. While hiding in the light, she came to him. Dragging herself into that light, onto his lonely, dust covered path. Tattered clothing covering her mangled soul. Dragging herself. Slowly. Ever so slowly. Towards him. Carrying with her all of life’s ills. Time. Time. It took time for these toes to rot away. Time. It took time for her to drag those stubs that could barely be called feet along the smoldering coals that cover the burnt path of the past. Time. It took time for the last breaths of the dying to suck the life out of her dry, cracking, decaying skin. The voids of which, filled with seemingly weightless, yet somehow burdensome dust. Remnants of the dead. Ones long broken down by that lonely path of the past. Still carrying with her all of life’s ills. Dragging herself. Off of that lonely path. Slowly. Showing herself to him. Illuminated by the light he hides beneath. Showing herself inside the purgatory of fear. Reaching out her hand (what was left of it) towards him. Time. It took time for those fingers to fall off. Piece by piece, one by one. Decaying into the dust filled loneliness of his long path. Once more he studied her. Her decaying feet, her tattered clothing, her disfigured hands, illuminated by the light of universes long dissolved by the void. Finally, gazing into her eyes, through the windows of her soul, she spoke to him. One word. One word shattered his perception of it all. He took her outstretched hand. Together they walked. Out the purgatory of fear. Towards the beauty. The beauty of the darkness.

-The Time Traveler