Kingdom of Hearts-Prologue

Prologue:1

She had listened beyond the rain; listened towards its heart, toward that center place where everything seemed to coalesce into the little droplets that she felt brushing against her hand and her face and her tightly shut eyes.  If she shut her eyes, if she listened to the wind and that inner place, she knew it was possible to escape the world; awake, there was everything, and she was so afraid of everything. Everything surrounded you and tore at you with sharp, brutally renting claws; it shredded your skin and your senses and left you a ruin. Nothing was better. Nothing allowed you calmness, a sense of serenity, that held such an essence of reality that indeed it was reality, more so than anything else ever would be.2

So she listened to it, and so everything disappeared into nothing. For an hour or more she had been doing this, crouched on the cold path with tears running down her cheeks. Sorrow tinged her world, and no matter where she went, it was inescapable. It was her world, though, and she had been told that the world was something you could never escape, that reality was a tangible thing and once you grasped it, there was no letting it slip into the nether regions from whence it came. Not true, she knew, because of her special place, that intangible realm that resided only within her heart, and yet all the same there was some sense into that; the more of everyone else’s reality she let into the solitude, the more mist shrouded the bliss from her.3

Breathing softly, arms wrapped around her waist, she wore an unconscious grin, thinking of how peaceful it was with the raindrops beating over her upturned face. Tears mingling with droplets of water, she stared through unseeing wintry eyes at the stormy sky, trapped in her soul. There was no escaping the quietude, and even if she had wanted to, no hope would have been given to her. It was a place that was loath to leave; even when mist invaded its corners and seeped through the very edges of the place, it clung to her with its spellbinding magnificence, making it harder to leave. Each time, she wanted to stay with more intensity than the last time.4

Now, the feeling of want surged in her heart. To leave, she knew, was to commit a folly, was to blaspheme the very thing that the world was made on, though no one else seemed to realize it; the heart’s secret calls that one could only feel in this place. It sang in such a way that human words could not copy it, with such a joy that no living being, mortal or otherwise, could truly describe the depths of it. It existed, and it sang, and if only one listened to the rain, if only one was in this place, then could one begin to understand what it meant. Then could one begin to understand the purpose of it.5

There was reality and then there was its alter ego, fantasy, and yet the lines between these two were blurred that to say which one belonged where and to equally split them into their appropriate groups would have been impossible. And yet, these two things were the fabrics that wove the world, and in this thing did the heart’s song reside, and that secret place, and all of the majesties contained in it. Slowly, though, over the last age or so, the fabric had begun to unravel. Stray threads wandered through galaxy and time, bewitching those that chose to pluck the actual matter into the mortal realm.6

Still, she did not care about the inconsistencies of it; like any other place, it contained pitfalls and dark things. Slowly, though, she had explored it until she found the place she desired, the place in which her soul now lurked, and she knew where to avoid going. And most of all, she knew that to try and find one of those mysterious threads of mingled matter would be to doom your home, forever. She knew that she was the only one in this universe, one of many, to know of the secrets contained in her special place; others over past times had, but only one in each age, as it was preordained. So for now, home was safe, and it was not in any danger. 7

To the outside world, there were vague autumnal tinges to the first few winter breezes idly brushing at dampened curls. They were watching her with baleful, scornful eyes, each and every one of her antagonists, and yet they were careful of approaching her. They knew what she would do them if they did anything but glare. And glaring did nothing to her; they could stare until there eyes were red and they had learned that she would not flinch.8

Slowly, when her heart’s beating had steadied a little more, she turned her gaze back down the path, forcing the beautiful place out of her mind. It was hard, though, because even when a single corner of her mind was filled with thoughts of it, it would come. Even after she became fully aware again of the world, the scents of the place, containing an unknown sweetness, lingered on the breeze, and a bit of unheard music. The music, though, was marred by the jeering of those behind her.9

Flicking tears away from her face, sniffling, she fled shamelessly through the dancing rain and the mocking shadows, past the trees that reached for her with clawing branches, toward home. And home, as relatively simple to some things and indeed to most things as it outwardly appeared to be, made her heart feel warm and chased away most of the bad feelings. Home was as much of a comfort, in its own way, as her special Kingdom of Hearts was, and it held something truly more pleasing, even if compared to the other it was a mere humble shelter, one of many in this vast universe. To home, away from them all.                                                                             10