Freyja

It’s setting in once again, that well known primal urge. Run. Run far and fast as though your life depends on it. It may very well be the case. Though living by the hospitality of strangers is often a necessity, a means of survival, no mortal may be trusted for too long. Sooner or later, they all show their hand. When resting in their homes, feeding from their tables, sharing their ale in joyous frivolity, it is important to remember one universal truth - trust is for the weak, and I am not weak.

I didn’t fall for it as a child when the woman with golden hair promised me a whole new life, free from the forlorn existence I had led up to that point in the slums. A castle filled with other children just like myself. That’s what she told me. Though my scepticism rang the warning bells in my mind loud and clear, I was willing to wander down her path for a while. The streets outside were so cold this time of year and I was so new to life on the streets then.

She led me to a dull, decrepit manor, the likes of which would be torn asunder by a whisper of wind, but from within the waning walls sang sounds of merriment that I was, until that moment, unfamiliar with. It was children. Their laughter, their squeals of delight at their own playground antics filled the air and as I made my way around to the back I witnessed their frivolous anarchy. Though there was not a parent in sight, the cohort appeared to be carefree, safe and content with the hand they had been dealt and the unbound family they had chosen.

They welcomed me warmly, apparent acceptance at first sight. Within moments I had become the shiny new toy and I made friends there. I promise I did, but no matter how they tried to lure me in, a part of me knew not to tether myself to them entirely. I quickly learned to match their smiles, their giggling glee, and became a model ward of those in charge, a perfect student of social expectations. Alas, as I had always suspected, within a month the other shoe dropped.

Strange adults from all around, from town, from lands beyond entered into our haven and began taking us, one by one. Into their hearts and homes is what we were told, but I wasn’t having that. Though every other child seemed excited, these naïve souls had to know, at least, that they would never see their chosen family again. These children, they had grown so close, grown to love one another with a depth I could not have imagined prior to arriving, and yet here they all stood, so eager to throw it all away in the hopes of something better.

I thanked my lucky stars that I had been wise enough to avoid such connections before this fateful day arrived, and that I had learned how to wear my mask so well when the vultures came for me. The human couple were dazzled by my performance and waited patiently for me to return to them with my belongings, while I, acting on instinct, slipped out the back door and ran for my freedom. I will always remember my time there fondly and this experience taught me one very important lesson, get out while you’re ahead. There’s nothing worse than overstaying one’s welcome.

Gratitude is all I ever need to feel for those who show me kindness and those whose attempts to weasel something of their own out of me as trade, because while I enjoy the party I always escape before it turns. Freedom is at the centre of my existence. I light up the lives of those who meet me, serve me, shower me with gifts and comfort, but only for a short time and as far I can tell that has suited us all quite well.

So why is this different? Granted, I’ve stayed in one place a little longer than usual, but still the longest I ever have. Somehow these sleeping forms, these strangers known to me for no more than a week, are engaged in an epic battle with my better judgment. My urge to run is no less strong than it has always been and I know, surely I know, that now is the time. Mala showed his hand so off-handedly when he shared his interest with a marigold flower, and Eric, the blacksmith boy in town, is smitten. I don’t hurt nice people and to stay any longer would be leading them on, I know that.

So why is this different? With every reasonable reason to leave another force is pulling me, willing me to stay. They are the same as so many others before them. Alexander, the conspiracy theorist, certainly he’s less pushy and manic than his counterparts, far less judgemental than most religious nuts out there to be sure, but his beliefs are just inconceivable. Ancev, the scoundrel, always on the wrong side of the law but quick to mask his checkered past and his equally checkered present. He has a way with words that can rival my own, so clearly he cannot be trusted. I suppose, in a way, I have begun to feel a sense of kinship there, but I’m no dullard. It’s not a true bond, those don’t exist without trust and even that look in his eyes when they brought me back from the brink of back, the melding of terror and relief, must have been a lie. That is his trade after all. Definitely a lie.

Now Katerina mirrors every woman who feigned hope of becoming a mother figure in my eyes. The stern, no nonsense demeanour that would bend when my light shone through. Her concern does not only rest on me, however...her watchful gaze shelters every member of their little crew. Then there’s Mala of course, all for one and one for fun. He knows what he wants and pulls out all the stops to get it, the ‘it’ being me. Still, he somehow seemed to see me. I wonder if he’ll remember our time together as the years apart pass us by. They are such a close-knit crew and despite their efforts to fool me into thinking I belong with them, I know I’ll never fit entirely. Get out early, that’s my motto.

So why is this different? I am a fool. I let them get too close, let them in. I have given them what I swore I would never give anyone, the power to hurt me. I care...

Run. Run far and fast as though your life depends on it. It may very well be the case.

This world is too harsh to cart around such a crippling weakness. My first heartbreak is swelling within me now. No matter how necessary, the pain is more than I could have ever expected. I must away before I lose my nerve.

Goodbye...friends.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story please feel free to click the heart and/or donate.

Also, thank you to Vocal for encouraging me to continue writing across different genres, RPGs for the opportunity to play around with character concepts, and Reedsy for the initial writing prompt. The protagonist is a character I've had in my pocket for a while and it was a lot of fun exploring the character in this way.