Abandon

"Are we ready to continue our lesson?" Monk beamed, standing next to the rear door.

"I'm sorry about last time." I apologized. "I was in a dark place. I couldn't talk about other emotions."

"Why do you apologize?" He asked. "This is a lesson in you growing into control of yourself. If you need to talk about something, it would be best if you talked about it."

I looked up at him. His hands were folded in front of him. He looked as if he were smiling. He drew in a breath, and then took quick glances between the door and me.

"Shall we?" He asked, motioning towards it.

"Yes." I replied. He led me through the door, and it opened into a rock face.

"Careful now." He cautioned. The door faced towards a large rock wall, with only a few feet of room to get out from the sides. The rocks underneath my feet jutted out to a peak, where a cascade of water fell in front.

"Where are we?" I asked. 

"Do you not remember seeing this waterfall on the way up to the monastery?" He asked, sitting down near the point. 

"Is this what this is?" I asked.

"This is my favorite place in this town." He sighed. "I've found that my most successful meditations are found here."

I sat next to him, and reveled in the silent roaring of the waterfall.

"So what emotions burden you today?"

"I don't know." I replied. "Should we just go down the list of whoever's left?"

"We may." He stated. "Who was it you met first in this new world?"

"I think Good and Bad had me meet Hollow and Youth first."

"Ah," he laughed, "the troubled pairing."

"Aren't they all troubled pairings?"

"To an extent, but Youth and Hollow are different than the rest."

"How so?"

"Because you hear from Hollow even less than you do from Anger. You experience feelings of anger and resentment more than you do feelings of depravity."

"Hollow and Misery sound fairly similar." I added.

"They are." He noted. "They are two sides to the same coin. They both aim to drag you down when you experience the two ends of the spectrum of life. When you are your highest, Misery will be there to try and knock you down. But when you are at your lowest, Hollow will be there to drag you down even further."

"So how does Youth fit into this?"

"Youth is your longing for hope in the future."

"So Youth and Could are similar too?"

"Yes, in that they both have a healthy helping of optimism. But when you are at your lowest, you will not look kindly into space, thinking about what could happen. There are not concrete ties to reality. But Youth serves this purpose. He will help you to think about what could happen if you stand up and keep walking, but he will root it in reality."

"So then Youth serves a lot of my feelings of nostalgia?"

"Correct."

"So that's it?" I asked, finally looking at him. "Youth is only there to be nostalgic and optimistic?"

"Yes," he held up a finger, "but he serves a purpose even greater than the two."

"And what would that be?"

"Curiosity."

"You know; I would think the corgi would deal much more with curiosity."

"One would think, yes." He laughed. "But when you hunger to learn or do something new in your day to day life, that is Youth speaking into your ear.

A silence cut its way between us. I thought that the waterfall would be deafening. But it sounded as if a small creek was nearby. I could feel the mist drifting into us.

"So then is that all that Hollow does?" I spoke. "Make me feel more like shit when I already am?"

"That is most of his job, yes. But there can be instances where this is a good thing."

"Please..."

"Pardon?"

"He only serves that on purpose!" I shouted. "He grabs onto my leg, and begs for me to not to leave him behind; all the while exclaiming 'do not abandon me, for I have already abandoned myself!' He's just a dead-weight, isn't he?"

He laughed and shook his head. He drew in a breath and then turned back out to look at the cascade.

"This 'dead-weight' as you describe him, can save you; he can drive you to further success than be possible without him."

"How?"

"When you're crashing, you create new all-time lows for yourself. Hollow senses this, and strives to drag you down even further from within your own soul. But you need to be able to bounce back once you are mentally and emotionally ready. And what makes you bounce back further than a little extra weight?"

"Are you comparing life to a giant trampoline?" I asked.

"Perhaps?" He chuckled. "But do you understand what point I am attempting to arrive at?"

"Momentum." I stated. He turned his head and looked at me. "It's easy to bounce back when you start at the ground. But when you go even lower than that, and see what it's like to be lower than low, it’s easier to go even further."

He nodded his head silently.

"You should take my place as monk."

"Do I have to shave my head?"

"Preferably."

"Then it ain't gonna happen."

We both laughed and stood up. He led me back to the door.

"Who else is left to talk about?" I asked him.

"The last two pairings are myself and Anger, and Soul and Host."

"Wait," I began, stopping short once we entered the monastery, "what about Misery? Who's his opposite?"

"You'll see." He chortled, leading me towards the main doors.

"I don't like being in suspense." I sighed.

"It's not suspense," he turned, "if it's in your own head."

"I swear if you had eyes, you'd be blinking right now, wouldn't you?"

"Probably." He laughed. I pushed open the door, and the light flooded in. The door shut, and locked behind me.

Corrupt

I walked with painful steps up to the monastery. Each step took a burden on my soul. The door swung wide, and Monk was waiting near the throne for me.

"Are you alright?" He asked, walking over to meet me. 

"I don't know." I shuddered.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that we are dealing with love once more, correct?"

"I don't know what to do." I whimpered, doubling over.

"Speak." He responded, leading me to his quarters. "Tell me what you are feeling."

"You know about the other night, right?"

"I do indeed." He stated, having me sit on the bed while he sat on the floor in front of me. "The first time in a long while that you have felt the warm embrace of another."

"It didn't feel right."

"I'm sure the King will beg to differ." He chuckled. I looked up and glared at him, and he stopped.

"I apologize." He bowed his head. "Please tell me what you are feeling."

"I don't know what I'm feeling anymore." I replied. "But it still just didn't feel right."

"What makes you say this?"

"I don't know!" I shouted, making him jump. "I don't know why I'm feeling like this! I should be elated! I should be at peace! But I'm not! I've never felt more distressed."

"I fear that I know what you're going to say."

"I fear that since I've been alone for so long, through such pivotal parts of my life, that I'm too far gone."

He got up and slowly paced towards the fire. I could hear him breathing quietly.

"I've been alone for so long; I'm scared that I'm supposed to be alone. I've trained myself to deal with life alone. And now that I can feel the touch of someone else's skin, I resent it. I'm not supposed to though."

"I knew that Love was not whole." He stated, placing the tea pot in the fire. "But I did not know the extent to which she was."

"Is she fighting against me?" I pleaded. "She's supposed to make me feel love! But now that I can, she won't let me."

"This is not solely her own fault." He assured. "She has been through just as much as you have, perhaps even more. When you deal with heartbreak, she steps forward to take the full front of it. Then she steps back into the shadows to let the others take care of you."

I shuddered in the stillness. Monk did not turn to look at me, rather he glared into the fire.

"I've haven't felt a peaceful bliss like that in a while. With her breath on my shoulder, and her arms around me. But I haven't slept since then, I've never been more at arms with myself."

Monk did not say anything. He continued to look into the fire steam starting to come out of the teapots spout.

"Maybe I'm destined to be alone?" I mumbled into my hands. "The one who's destined to lock himself into his vaulted keep, and sit upon the highest tower, laid to rest alone with his stories. The ones that he throws onto paper, and the ones that haunt his mind. But there will be no one else within the keep, for every time that someone comes close, the stories force me to shoo them away."

"We are not preordained to destiny." Monk finally said. "No one person, whoever has or ever will exist, has a destiny. Life only becomes great to live once you make it worth something to live. And the more you say, the more I suspect that King is the one who is corrupt."

I looked up at him through watered eyes.

"King has no power." He turned. "He is nothing more than a gatekeeper, to guard the grandest and most complicated emotion that we will ever experience. He haunts and torments you when there are no souls drifting past his gate, but then he keeps them out once they try to enter?"

I didn't say a word. The fire calmed itself, and steam from the teapot subsided.

"This is a far greater problem than I expected." He announced. "For while Love is still broken and shattered from a history of neglect, the King lets no one in, even the ones who may help her become whole once more."

I stared out into the hallway. Monk turned back to face the fire.

"I thought the embrace of a lover would save me." I whispered. "But this is just an all-time low."

"You mean to say that you are uncomfortable?" Monk asked. 

"Extremely." I replied. I could see the light shining brighter through the windows in the hallway.

"Then there is only one way to pass through your current predicament."

I looked up at him.

"The only way in which you may grow as a human being, is to become comfortable, with being uncomfortable."

Dismay

When I walked into the monastery, the fire was not crackling from Monk's room. The lights that dotted the corridor had been extinguished, but they were still smoking. A new, crimson rug covered the bulk of the floor. Monk was standing with his arms held in front of him at the far end of the hall, next to an old wooden door.

"Come." He beckoned me with an open arm. "It is time for your next lesson."

"Where are we going?" I asked him, glancing over at the still darkened quarters of Anger.

"We're going outside for this lesson."

I closed my eyes as I went through the open doorway. I was confused when I opened them once more. Monk closed the solitary door behind him, standing in the abyss of purgatory. 

"This is outside?" I asked.

"Why not?" He beamed. He walked past me, and held out his arm for me to follow. He walked further into the void, seemingly without a destination in mind.

"This place just reminds me of the early days with Good and Bad." I droned, putting my hands in my back pockets.

"I remember those days." He acknowledged.

"You do?"

"Of course," he laughed, "back in the day when I was nothing more than a voice in Good's head. Things were far simpler back then, were they not?"

"Yeah, they were."

There was a silence as we walked out into the abyss. My shoes clacked against the floor, and Monk's bare feet glided over the ground in a hush.

"So who are we talking about today?" I asked him.

"You tell me." He replied.

"Can we not go through this again?" I complained, rolling my eyes.

"I will give you the same answer every time you ask that same question." He waved a finger at me. "You need to be the one to tell me what is wrong."

"Okay." I sighed, peering around the vacuum. "I guess I'm feeling a little down with regards to the future."

"Anything different from what we discussed last time?"

"Yeah, actually." I pushed the hair out of my face. "I mean I guess I'm not feeling as optimistic as I usually am."

"Ah." He discovered, exhaling. "So this is a matter of Could and Would?"

"I guess?"

"Tell me more about them?"

"What is there to know about them? Would is a dismal, depressive shit head with an alcohol problem. And Could is a fucking Corgi."

"Watch your language?"

"Seriously though, why is Could a Corgi?"

"Because that is how you represent the ideal of optimism."

"That says a lot, doesn't it?"

"So why is it that you are having trouble listening to Could?" He changed.

"Because sometimes it's a really bad decision to be optimistic."

"How do you mean?"

"If you're optimistic in a hopeless situation, you're just wasting your time."

"This is true," he continued, "to an extent. But how often is it that you listen to Would?"

"Honestly?" I began. "I don't know. His voice doesn't stand out to readily."

"Could you think of a reason why listening to him would be beneficial?"

"I mean, maybe just as something good to look back on?"

"Not quite."

"Then why don't you explain?"

"Would is actually quite a complex emotion." He explained, speaking with his hands. "You view him, primarily, as a stark reminder to look back on the past and revel in your own selfish satiations. He creates the fantasies for you to escape to, but only after he convinces you that you could have done something different, in order to have made that fiction a reality."

"In that light, he sounds like nothing more than a nuisance."

"Not quite." Monk continued. "Because while he can disillusion you of your past decisions, he is your primary source of fear."

"Fear of what?"

"Fear of everything." He breathed. "Every time that you experience fear, or feel frightened, it stems from Would own created semblances."

"So listening to him is actually worth doing in certain occasions?"

"Correct." He stated. "For a human without so much as a remnant of fear, will be led down a road of destruction. Feeling fear will keep you alive when need be."

"But what about the rest of the time? Should I listen to him any other time?"

"No." He hissed, baring his teeth. "Because the same fear that he provides to keep you alive, will lock you in the past, and hold you from moving forward."

"So Could will keep me moving forward, but Would should keep his voice down?"

"In your everyday life, yes."

"But when things go wrong, their roles reverse." I carried on, explaining to myself. "Would will be the one to keep me alive, and Could should be the one to stay quiet?"

"You are coming along very nicely with regards to your emotions." He beamed.

"But why do they hate each other so much?" I asked. "All the others are opposites of themselves, but none of them dislike each other like Could and Would."

"Because fear and enthusiasm will always be at war with one another. But you must always remember, all of these emotions, regardless of what they say, are all just parts to the same whole. They are far similar with one another than you may ever know."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I thought all of this was about looking at each emotion in comparison to its opposite, and then vice versa?"

"Yes, but only as a means to train you to become the master of your own emotions." He revealed, the door showing up once again in front of us. "But every emotion is connected to each other. And you will always be able to go from one emotion to another if you search, and find a way."

He opened the door, and the piercing white light bowed on the other side of the opening.

"Any last remarks?" I asked him, taking a step into the light. He cocked his head to the side, and then lowered it as the light consumed me.

"Never let fear turn you against your playful heart. You may fear, or you may love everything."

Castle

"So where do we start today?" I asked Monk. It was early. The town at the base of the mountain was still rising from its slumber. The light from behind the summit had yet to come from through the windows.

"We first start by finding the roots of your current problems." He replied, sitting down perpendicular from the fire, motioning for me to sit across from him. "It is from there we delve deeper into the soul."

"Well in that case," I smiled, "we're gonna be here for a while."

He did not chortle in return. He grabbed a tea kettle from the fire and placed it between us.

"What is it you want most in life?" He began, reaching for two cups.

"Sorry?" I stopped.

"What is it you want most in life?" He repeated without a change in tone.

"To be happy?" I stuttered.

"Well of course." He beamed. "But what is it you want right now?"

"To..." I drifted, "be happy? I'm sorry where are you going with this?"

"You can say a lot about what you want your life to become; especially with someone with as articulate of a mind as you." He said while pouring out the tea. "But as problems arise in our life, that vision is altered. Sometimes minutely, and sometimes drastically."

"So you really just want to know what I want?"

"Yes."

"You don't already know?"

"I know everything about you." He handed me a cup. "But you need to be the one to say it; not me."

"I want to be successful."

"Go on?"

"I want to be a successful writer." I thought. "That's really the biggest thing. Everything else will just fall into place around it."

"As much as I can appreciate an axiom such as that, I want you to paint me the picture of your future. You know what it looks like. Show me."

"Uh," I faltered, "I mean outside of writing, I just want to be happy. I want to be independently wealthy from it so that I can help my friends and my family. I want a close group of friends to be there with me. I want to travel and see the world. I want to be with someone special throughout all of it."

I stopped, and drew in a breath.

"Ah," Monk stated, "I believe that we have found your current problem."

"So how do I work around this?"

"I need you to think back to when you first met Love and the King of Hearts." He asked, straightening his back. "Describe them to me."

"Well, Love is just love, right?"

"Love is your representation of the emotion of love. She embodies the physical attraction that you find in people, but also the deep emotional bonds that you will make with people."

"So then what does the King represent?"

"The idea of being in a relationship." He expressed. "The King preaches a dogma that one must be next to him, on a throne. He thinks that someone just being there is enough to satiate the hunger that Love craves. But is ideology is nothing more than a fallacy, built on top of a castle of cards."

"So then why bother listening to him in the first place?" I asked, drinking the still scalding tea.

"Because when the King of Hearts speaks up, you find the courage to go search for romance."

"Isn't that Love's responsibility?"

"If Love is left to be the one to guide you in the direction you want to be in, you will never find a forever-lasting love. But if you leave the duty to the King, you will never maintain a relationship for too long."

"So," I started, "the King will guide me to love, but Love will help me keep it?"

"Correct." He held his hands out.

"So then why is it so much harder than it seems to find romance in the first place?"

"Because neither the King, nor Love are whole; they are both damaged from the past."

"I am too..." I sighed.

"But the only way to make them whole again is to let life takes its course; let King guide you in the right direction, and then let Love take over."

"I just want someone." I mumbled. "I want to hold them in my arms and share in their warmth at night. I want to kiss their lips and share with them both the secrets and truths that bind my life together."

"And the King will lead you in that direction."

"But I want that some person to be more than just that." I wiped a tear from my eye. "I want them to be there for the rest of my days. I want them to be just as close with my friends as I am to them. I want them to be there when I reach the highest summits, but I need them to be there when I fall into the abyss, and I can't find a way to get out."

"And Love will help to find that person too."

"But it's like I can't."

"Explain."

"I am, at the same time, equal parts 'desperate to share my entire life with someone,' and 'desperate to keep my soul shut from anyone who would dare venture that deep.' Is that normal?"

"Given your circumstance," he assured, "I would say yes."

"It should be easier." I continued. "But it isn't. There's been a gap in my heart for a very long time."

"What has happened when you try to fill it?"

"I don't try that often."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm afraid that the piece that fills it will never fit." I whimpered. "And I'm afraid to even try in fear that I'll damage whatever's left around it."

There was a silence that filled the hall. I heard the ashes of the incense fall into the bowl.

"This is a hard spot to get out of." He murmured.

"The wind blowing through the gap has gotten colder as of late." I told him. "I want to fix it, but I'm too scared to."

"I understand."

"What do I do?"

"This is, unfortunately, the part where I tell you that I don't have an answer."

"Why not?"

"These sessions are so that you may find yourself, and so that you may be the one to find these answers on your own. So that you may look at these emotions and let them lead the way."

"You don't even have so much as advice as to what I should do?"

"I do."

"What?"

"Let Love and King be the ones to guide your actions. King will find someone, and Love will get you attached to them."

"What then?"

"You'll know." He smiled. "You're smart enough to know when life shows you a path. And you're smart enough to let your instincts guide you down that path."

He stood up, and walked to the door, motioning for me to follow.

"Come back to me when you are ready once more." He told me, walking with me to the front door.

"How will I know when it's time to come back?"

"You'll know." He nodded, opening up the door, letting in the piercing light. "The voices will grow too loud."

Equilibrium

I traveled to the Monastery again. I once again made my trek up the steps that circled around the mountain, and hiked up to the stone stairs of the sanctuary. The hall hadn’t changed; I had expected Monk to take full control and make the place look nicer. But the torches that lined the hall were still dimly lit. Cobwebs encased the corners and ceilings, and dust caked the tables and the throne.

"How was your journey?" Monk asked from his doorway, his hands held in front of him.

"It was fine." I replied. "Does it ever get cold up here?"

"Why are you here?" He dodged. "Anger is subsided, and Good is back too normal."

"Because I need a favor of you."

"I do not give or receive favors from anyone." He held his hand up, and started to walk back into his

quarters.

"I need you to be the emotion in charge!" I called after him. He stopped, and began to reply without turning back to face me.

"Why is this?"

"After seeing what Anger could do to Good, I can’t take the risk of letting anything else like that happen. Someone needs to be in charge…"

He sighed, and turned around.

"The other emotions will tell you the same thing; that there needs to be someone in charge, someone to take the reins when everything goes inconceivably wrong. I can tell you personally, that that is not how this works."

"Well every time that something like this happens, I’m the one who gets blamed because I let the wrong emotion take control!"

"Enough." He held out his hand. "I will not be the sole emotion to take control, and have a direct influence upon the actions you make; that would give me too large of a voice."

"But what if that’s how I want it to be?" I pleaded. "I want the sanest voice to be the one in charge!"

"I will not take control." He shuffled to his fireplace. "This is my final answer."

I exasperated, and began to walk out of the monastery.

"Although," he started, "I do have a different offer."

"What?”

"I will not take control." He began. "However, I will teach you how to better regulate the emotions that you feel in life, so that you may listen to the perturbed voices, but never give them the power that they crave."

"My thoughts are just a giant power struggle, isn’t it?"

"In the minds of many, yes. Yes, it is."

"But if they’re all just my emotions, why can’t I have better control over who does what?"

"Have you ever thought as to why you never hear anything from Hollow?"

"Now that you mention it, no."

"It’s because you don’t feed him power." He started. "The emotions you feed, are the ones who feed into you, and gradually take control. If you feed the right voices, they will lead you down the path of righteousness. If you feed the wrong voices, you will be led down a path of lies, deceit, treachery, and hatred."

"So just listen to all of Good’s emotions and I’ll be fine?"

"You should listen to them, of course. But never let the voices of evil fall permanently from your mind."

"I don’t understand why?" I questioned, circling around and sitting at the foot of his cot. "Why would listening to them ever be a good thing to do?"

"Listening to the wrong voices and letting them control you will lead you to ruin. But taking into consideration what they have to say will they keep them alive."

"Why keep them alive?!" I shouted. "All this time I’ve been told by Good and Bad themselves that all of this is either Good or Bad!"

"They would be the ones to tell you that," he chuckled, "wouldn’t they?"

I stopped, and sighed. I collected my breath for an apology.

"Life is not a black or white path, choosing between Good and Bad. Almost every choice you make will fall in the area in-between. In life, Good and Bad will lead you down two separate paths. But these paths will not remain separated for ever. Sometimes they will run parallel with one another, and sometimes they will run over each other. And sometimes, they will run together, as the same path."

"So why keep them alive then?" I asked.

"The voices that you hear in your head as you live, tell you what they see." He began, lighting incense in front of the fire. "If you see evil or corruption in the world, it will not be Love, or Could, or Youth telling you about it. It will be Misery, or Would, or the King of Hearts. What do you think will happen if they weren’t there to tell you about these things?"

"I don’t know." I stuttered.

"Without them, you may fall subject to these corruptions." He continued. "They are more than just voices in your ear. They are sirens, alerting you to trouble at every corner. You need to listen to them. There is no other way."

I sighed, and hung my head down.

"You know what you feel.” He sympathized. “You just want to be able to control these emotions."

"Yes."

"I think I can help you achieve this. I just need you to trust me."

"You would think that this wouldn't be that hard of a process..."

"Coming to grips with what person you are is no easy feat." He stated. "Determining to what degree you listen to each emotion is a rigorous process. Each emotion has an opposite. Where one wishes to see you do well in one subject, the other wants to see you perish."

"Like Could and Would?"

"They are an example, yes." He agreed. "Each emotion has an opposite. And the process will teach you how to deal with each one; whether that be to praise their voice and hold it upon a pedestal, or to shut the voice out completely, until the crisis has ended."

"Your offer is to teach me this," I asked, "isn't it?"

"It is indeed."

"So who do we start with?"

"Not yet." He halted.

"I need to start this process now though?" I questioned. "You just told me that."

"You do indeed."

"So why not start it now?"

"Because each session will take a large amount of time." He finally turned around. "And time is not on our sides."

I looked out into the hallway, and the light glowed brighter through the doors and windows.

"Go and rest." He told me. "Go and take on your life. Come back to me when you are ready."

I stood up and walked out into the main hallway. Monk remained in his room, meditating in front of the fire. As I pushed the door open, I could hear weeping from Anger's quarters.

Reach

"You're not going to help me with this at all, are you?" I asked Bad. He sat back in his chair, looking up and down his bookshelf.

"Why should I?" He grumbled. "Isn't this all your problem to sort out?"

"But Anger is with you!" I shouted, making him jump.

"Look." He explained, turning to me. "There's a part of me that wants to go do something about this, because there is some unholy and unnatural thing about Anger being in control. But there's this other part of me that really enjoys seeing you like this. And you know what? That part wins."

"Can you at least tell me who can help me?"

"None of mine." He pursed his lips. "Maybe go talk to Love and see what she has to say."

I got up and left his house, without giving him a second glance. I walked until I hit the pink house, and Love was sitting on her porch, nursing her still unhealed wounds.

"Let me guess," she started without looking up at me, "Bad won't help you in any way, shape, or form so you're coming to me for help?"

"You're so good at this..." I sighed.

"What makes you think I can help you?" She glared, motioning at her wounds.

"Could you at least point me in a direction to go?" I begged. "Because I have no idea where to start with this."

"This seems like it's going to be something you're going to have to deal with on your own." She said, looking down the street. "You're going to have to go up to the monastery and deal with it yourself."

"I don't think I can do it by myself."

"Well it seems like every time you have the wild hair up your ass to do something, someone else gets sucked into everything!" She snapped, whipping back to look at me. "So I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you did it on your own!"

She was right. But I could see a fire burning in her eyes. Maybe Anger is up to something again? I thought. I walked down her driveway and back down the street, leaving her to her own accord. I looked past the town and up the mountain. The summit was still covered in a thick layer of clouds. I sighed, and began my trek up the mountain.

*   *   *   *   *

The clouds fogged my vision, I couldn't see the monastery until I nearly walked into the wooden door. I hesitated before pushing it open. The handle was warm, and a faint rumbling could be heard from inside. I pushed the door open. A dark, ruby orb was hovering above the throne at the far end of the main hall, emitting the subdued rumbling. The left entryway to Anger's domain had been blocked by snow white gate with golden ornaments. The right entryway now had a door, with the same light shining through its opening. Good sat on the throne. His eyes were closed. His suit had been torn and shredded, and it was stained red in spots. I began to walk down the hallway, but Good's eyes shot open, and he began to float above his seat.

"You are not welcome here!" He screamed, the orb glowing brighter and getting louder. His eyes were glazed over. He wasn't himself. I could hear Anger cackling from beyond his gate. I turned and ran towards Monk's door, and slammed it shut behind me. The rumbling faded instantly.

Monk sat cross-legged in front of his fire. There was a rose to his left, and a knife to his right. In front of him was metal bowl that held three, smoking incense sticks. 

"I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to come here." He announced without turning his attention.

"It took me a while to realize what I needed to do."

"And what is that?"

"Come up here and fix the problem?" I stuttered. He tilted his head, and then rose to his feet.

"To find the solution to the problem," he began, walking over to his cot, "you must first find the root of the problem."

"Anger is now in charge." I told him. "And I need to fix it."

"And why is Anger in charge?" He pursued. "Why is he doing what he is to Good?"

"I don't know." I pursed.

"Good's mind has been shrouded by a cloud that originates from Anger." He explained, resting at the foot of his cot. "What I mean to ask, is why this cloud is here?"

I stopped short of answering. The fire still cracked to my left, and the rumbling persisted from behind me. 

"You are letting Anger take control of your thinking." He asserted. "In every aspect of your life, you are letting him take control."

"So how do I fix it?"

"Make sure he isn't in control." I could hear him smile.

"I don't know how to do that."

"With every problem that occurs in your life, there are a multitude of ways to solve them." He continued. "The way in which you solve problems is with him. If you change the way in which you solve problems, you will change the way you walk through life. And this means that he will no longer be the one in control."

I drew in a breath, but stopped as he motioned to the fire. He led me to where he was meditating, and held out his hand for me to sit down.

"While there are many ways in which to solve a problem, there are only two before you." He stated, walking back to his cot. "Pick one."

"Pick one what?" I pleaded, turning back to face him. 

"One solution." He replied as he laid down. He openly held his hands to his sides. I looked down, and the rose and the knife still sat there. I moved them in front of me, one on each side of the metal bowl. I began to grab for the knife, but I hesitated.

"I understand your trepidation." He answered from his bed. "It takes a lot for one to reach into their own soul, and change the way in which we live."

I hesitated once more, my eyes darting back and forth between the bright red rose, and the gold hilted knife. The rose still had beads of water on the outside of its petals. The knife had Chinese lettering, etched into the length of the blade.

"What do I do when I make a decision?" I asked aloud.

"You leave this room and face your problem." He announced, still laying down on his bed.

I grabbed the stem of the rose, and rolled it in my hands. Its thorns receded into itself, and it bloomed further. The stem grew and wrapped itself around my arm, sprouting full blooms as it went. I got up and reached for the door, my arm covered in scarlet blossoms.

"Excellent decision." He breathed, getting back up to continue his meditation in front of the fire. "I do believe that you should come up here more often."

I smiled as I rested my hand on the handle, and nodded. I pushed the door open, and closed it behind me.

Good woke up once more, and glared at me as he rose out of his chair.

"I thought you had left." He smirked.

"This isn't who you are." I declared, walking at a steady pace up to him. "You are listening to the words of Anger."

"These words are my own!" He screamed, slamming his fists down on the throne, rattling the entire building. 

"I'm here to strip you of your power."

"You will do no such thing!" Anger screamed from behind his gate. I turned and held my hand up to the gate, and the gate collapsed, and the door in front of Monk's room broke down. The lights in the building roared to life, even illuminating the dark quarters of Angers home. I turned back to Good, and held out the first rose to him. He floated back down to the ground, and grabbed it with his index finger and thumb. A wind tore outside the monastery, blowing the clouds off into the distance. Good's eyes returned to normal, and he walked out the main door to make his way down the mountain. The red orb shook violently, and then shattered as Anger screamed in despair.

Monk stood in the entryway of his quarters, and Anger kneeled down in his. I stood before the marble throne and peered at the two of them, as they glanced at each other. Anger pulled himself up to his feet, and shuffled back into his room, defeated. Monk turned to me and nodded. I began to walk out of the monastery, a bright white light peering through the door's edges.

"I expect you back here in the near future." He beamed, taking his incense up to the throne. I smiled with my eyes closed, and pushed the door open.

Clock

"You know," Bad began as I attended to Love, "I think you should stay back for a bit before heading back to the monastery."

"Why the fuck should I wait?!" I exclaimed, making Love jump. "Look what he did to her!"

"Do you have any idea what you're about to face up there?!" He shouted back, clearly annoyed with me. "Look dude, I know you're sick and tired of us going 'you're not ready yet.' Well, trust me for once and just listen!"

"Why should I?!"

"Look what he did to Good. Good for Christ's sake. If he can do that to Good, what do you think he'll be able to do to you?!"

I groaned. He was right. I needed to stop and think. But you can't let him slide after what he did to Love. I thought. Just imagine what he would do to the others...

"How about this:" Bad started, ushering me off to the side, out of earshot of Love, "just take a break and have a drink, and we'll figure out what to do later, once we have a better idea of what we should do."

"Wait until we figure out something to do?" I repeated. "Why don't we just go do?!"

"You're not listening." He sighed. "Just take a break and have a drink. Don't you think you deserve at least a break after all of that happened?

"I guess." I replied halfheartedly.

"Good..." Bad trailed off, almost seeming to hide a distant smirk. "How about you go find Host. I'm betting he'd be willing to hook you up."

"I will." I replied once more. I felt foggy. I wasn't all there. Something wasn't right. Bad pushed me off down the street and I kept walking. I put my hands in my pockets and didn't stop until I had hit Host's house. The tree's in front, as well as all of the cars and yard ornaments were covered in toilet paper. Neon flyers were scattered over the street and sidewalks. Broken glass covered the walkway.

"It's been a while," Host hollered as he opened up the door to greet me, "how about a drink?"

"That's exactly why I came here." I replied with a smile. He led me into the kitchen and pulled out a stool for me at the counter. The house was a mess, even more so than back at the party. But it looked different through the dust and garbage. There were walls were there hadn't been before. And furniture had shifted around the room.

"Everything alright?" Host asked while he rattled the cocktail shaker.

"Has the house changed at all since the party?" I asked him. He stopped short and looked surprised.

"No?" He answered, his brow furrowed. "Why would it have?"

"I swear that there are new walls than there were before." I continued, looking out into the living room.

"Well I don't know what to tell ya'." I grinned, pouring the brown liquid into two frosted glasses. He pushed one across the counter, where it stopped near the back of my resting hand. I noticed a clock that sat on the wall of the hallway that connected the kitchen with the other rooms of the house. I ticked loudly in a syncopated manner.

"Yeah," Host said as he leaned against the counter with his glass firmly grasped, "I need to get that thing fixed. It's actually been doing that since the party, I guess someone decided to elbow it or some shit."

I remained silent while I reached around and grabbed onto the glass.

"Cheers," Host held up his glass, "to good health?"

"I guess." I mumbled, holding up mine and clinking it with his. It tasted like mud, but it burned like an inferno. I winced and shut my eyes, painfully squeezing them shut. When I opened them, the orientation of the house had changed once more. The hallway with the clock now sat in front of me, instead of to the left.

"Dude!" I shouted. "Stop messing with me! What the hell did you put in this drink?!"

"What are you talking about man?!" He hollered back, taking another sip. "It's just whiskey and some mixer!"

But without drinking any more, the room started to move. Host wobbled back and forth, unaware to anything happening. And then I shut my eyes.

*   *   *   *   *

I was sitting at a desk, looking at a monitor that showed me a blank document. A sight that I was so familiar to looking at. The room was gray. Light bounced through the closed shades and cast shadows on the floor. A fan on the ceiling dragged itself in a circle. An empty, dusty bookshelf sat decrepit in the corner, and a large are rug covered the center of the floor.

I felt normal. Whatever was in the drink had subsided, and I was once again conscious of the page that sat in front of me. But I couldn't think of anything. I got up and left the room, walking to the kitchen. It was just as dark and dingy as the office. Empty bottles of alcohol were everywhere. There were some bottles neatly organized on the counter, and others were thrown haphazardly onto the floor. One jetted out of the dry wall, and another sat half shattered in front of the dishwasher.

I was not in control anymore. I reached into the cupboard and grabbed another bottle. It was vodka. The same kind that Would drank. I pulled myself back up, and a figure in all black stood in the doorway.

"What do you want Misery?" I asked him.

"Just coming to see how you are doing." He replied, almost happy. He took the bag from his back and pulled another bottle of vodka out, placing it on the counter. "Thought you were out."

"I'm fine." I grumbled, taking the first bottle back to the office. He followed me and looked over my shoulder as I drank. I slugged down a quarter of the bottle before I had realized it.

"Yeah," he growled, "I thought you were out."

"Would you let me concentrate?!" I shouted. But it wasn't me speaking to him. I was stuck in a body, stuck in a fight with him. I could only taste the burn of the vodka. I looked back at the page, and two paragraphs had appeared. But I had been stopped again by a noise. A ticking noise. Out of rhythm. I turned around, and Misery had vanished. There was Host's clock, mounted on the wall behind me. I took another swig as I peered at the clock. It would stick every once and a while, deconstructing its own rhythm, before going back and maintaining it for a while. And then it would disrupt. And then maintain.

The page had more fine-print paragraphs when I turned back. The more I drank, the more showed up.

"Shame." Misery snarled behind me. "You used to be so good at that."

"What are you talking about?"

"You used to be able to write." He mocked. "Until you discovered this shit."

"I don't need you."

"Yes you do." He laughed. I'm the only thing keeping you around..."

I glared at him with a halted breath.

"Not this again?" He sighed. "You didn't forget again, did you?"

I continued to sit with the bottle grasped in my palm.

"They're all gone." He exclaimed, motioning his hand out the door. "Good, Bad, Host; they all gave up on you. Oh and don't even get me started on Love!"

I didn't move.

"Remember when she used to be around?" He longed, leaning against the far wall. "Cute girl she was. She would have given everything for you. But every time she tried, you just plugged your ears and turned the other way."

Silence.

"You did that to all of them. You put them down and picked up the bottle. You retreated to your own sanctuary, and locked everything out unless it was a keyboard or another bottle. They wouldn't stand for it. I did."

I drank more.

"It's a shame when you were able to write without the alcohol." He repeated. "Oh what am I kidding. You were ever that good anyway! Now it's just fun to see you fall into this spiral that you've manifested; all by yourself."

There was a quarter of the bottle left.

"Now you depend on it." He gleamed. "I'm so glad I get to be the one to see you like this."

The bottle was empty. The liter and a half bottle. Gone. I turned back, and the page count had gone from two, to three-hundred and twenty. I looked back at Misery, and he had vanished. The clock kept ticking. But it never skipped a beat.

*   *   *   *   *

Host was asleep on the couch, still in the suit vest and slack that he was wearing when I came over. The house was back to normal. I shuffled over to a chair opposite Host, and collapsed into it. I heaved, and I cried into the arm of the chair. I heard the clock ticking down the hallway, the pendulum sticking for a few moments, and then carrying on its staccato rhythm.