Damon at The Wishing Well
There was just too much noise at the house, and in his heart…he had to get away.
There was just too much happiness, too much warmth and light and love in that house…more than he could stand.
The vampire needed some peace and quiet, and one set of worried brown eyes noticed his silent departure.
The crow landed on the old Wishing Well, balancing surely on the narrow perimeter of this long-forgotten desolate place of hope.
His shiny black wings fluttered sharply then settled down as he pondered.
So much had happened recently.
Too much, really.
Too much had happened too quickly for his heart and his mind and his soul to keep up.
It was all so…so overwhelming.
Obliterating too much of his past and building too much of his future for any of it to make sense.
It was too much, too soon, never enough, but too much.
Where did it all come from?
Where will it all lead?
Too much, too soon, too late…too something.
Too hot, too light, too warm, too bright, too…everything.
He gazed down into the depths of the Well, wondering if that was where wishes came to die, or if wishes would take root in the dark waters below and bloom and rise to the surface to fly free?
Where did all this come from?
What had he done to deserve any of it?
Where will it lead?
Would it last?
Could it last?
Too much, too soon, too late…too everything.
Never enough time or hope or belief or faith or…anything.
The weight and the freedom given to him by his love for her, and her miraculously returned love for him, bore down upon him yet lifted him up.
The sheer weight…the sheer power of the love he felt for one tiny person.
Ascension and descention of one frayed soul.
Let it slide?
Push it away as if his life depended on it?
Hold it close as if his life depended on it?
Because maybe it did.
Mesmerizing and overwhelming, light to his dark, was he ready for the light? Was he ready for that light to end his dark? Was he ready for the good and the whole and the peace and the warmth?
Was he worth it?
He knew who he’d been in the past.
He knew who he was now.
But who would he become?
Who could he become?
Was he worth it?
The crow gazed down into the dark waters and studied the reflection of the sky as the sun’s rays chased away the murky haze.
He shifted, tossed a coin into the old well, and returned to his light, his Bella.
Hell yeah, he was worth it. He was Damon fuckin’ Salvatore.
**A/N: Inspired by and very reluctantly (because it’s a completely experimental piece for me) posted for a writing contest held by Kittyinaz on her group page: Kittyinaz’s Group Page**