That Question

• Bryan Yat, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2009

I am afraid. The mere thought of you sends a shiver of fear that prickles my spine like needles pressed against my flesh. The slightest mention of you renders my weakly construct completely paralysed, with my muscles slackening and my bones buckling in uncontrollable trepidation. I would rather be shrouded by an impenetrable void that would forever cast my vision into darkness than bare to hear your name be whispered; tormenting me with that mocking sneer. The very memory of you etched into me like a searing imprint on my hand continues to haunt my existence, plaguing even the most resilient fortresses within my mentality that have been constructed through an eternity of suffering. Those stockade of solitude that reside in the deepest crevasses of my ever ceaselessly wandering mind lay before you breached without the slightest of efforts, like a cloth sliced by the glint of a sword. I would rather be damned to the fiery infernos of hell, tortured through unremorseful anguish, than to be forced to meet your gaze that stares at me ever so precariously, like a viper that eyes her prey flicking her tongue malignantly. To take upon my soul, the entire burden of humanity and all the sins that man has ever and will commit, if you let me trade that so that I will never have to confront that single ominous moment, than I would.
Yet you invigorate the very essence of me, embedding within my soul all the cosmic energies that span this universe, shinning an inextinguishable ray of light upon my heart that for too long has laid desolate and barren, with a blizzard raging uncontrollably inside. Without you my skin would be blanketed in an icy chillness that would repulse the most forgiving and accepting of men. With every beating pulsation from my heart as I dare to draw another breath from this forsaken world, the pain surmounts to a pinnacle that is almost unbearable, yet to glance that smile once more, for that it would be worth it. How I yearn to once more hear your voice, to caress me with each syllable that lingers in the air dancing teasingly, resonating like a chorus of angels within my ears. To feel your soft touch once more, your fingertips to brush across my face would be like dipping my toes stream feeling the ripples tickle me mischievously. To feel those lips press against my mines, those crimson, tender lips, how I would conquer the world just to feel that.
Those alluring pensive eyes, I fear them for they hold all the answer to the questions that cascade my mind. My heart would shatter if all I saw in them was an apologetic sorrow, yet if I cannot muster enough courage, if I cannot manifest the tatters of bravery and incarnate it into strength; I will never know the answer and forever dwindle to be driven to the depths of insanity. So I ask you this, will you marry me?