I am a universe of secrets

The moonlight shone through the cracks in the roof. Moonbeams slipped to the dirty rubbish filled floor. It creaked and moaned as he marched up and down between the bed and side-table. He mumbled and ranted fighting the voices in his head. The angel and demon fought, debating the light and darkness. “You don’t know me” he yelled. It echoed in the empty cabin, slipping out of the broken windows. Nature called back. “No you idiot, I have secrets, a lot of juicy forbidden secrets within me” he laughed, spit slipped down his unshaved chin. He wiped it off, it mingled with the blood and dirt on his small hands.

An owl called in the ancient dead tree just outside the shattered door. “No” he screamed. “I am a secret, I am the secret. I am the universe. Humans are a universe of secrets. We have to find it; we have to find all the secrets. If we do, we will be…all knowing. Like a god. Like a universe.” The bed creaked and complained. He silenced it with one look, marching to the side-table.

The angel begged. He slapped his head a few times to silence her. The demon laughed. “Deep within lies the secrets. I searched within the skin, no not there. I searched in the eyes. Not much there either. I dived into all the organs, the kidneys, the lungs, the liver. I found nothing. Nothing.” He hit his head again. “Now the brain, that was interesting. Nerves and impulses, all just energies. I found little ones, not the one. It was not the universe, not the secret. I need to search more.“ He stared out of the door at the full moon rising high in the pitch dark sky. The owl cried, his eyes wide and wise. “Shut up” he screamed. It flew off disgusted.

He walked to the bed glaring at it. “I searched and searched and then I realised that it must be in the heart. We feel with it, anger, resentment, disgust, hate, but also peace, joy gratitude, hope, love. Emotions are what makes you tick. The secrets must be in the heart. I do believe it is” he whispered. The angel screamed for mercy. The demon laughed in glee.

He glanced into terrified, crying blue eyes. The huge spotlight over the bed glinted on the scalpel in his dirty hands, “This will hurt a bit!” he grinned.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.