Waking the Fallen, Mending the Battered.

Down a cold dimly lit road a body was seen, small in the distance though seeming strong yet frail. The road was not always so cold and dim. It was once filled with light but now the shadows had overtaken it and only slivers of light remained. More light shone as the body came closer and a small fire burned within its eyes. When it came into full view all that could be seen on the figure were scars old and new, cuts of all shapes and sizes, and splintered bones. Alone it stumbled farther on. Behind it followed a mass of other bodies, each having their own wounds and scars. The mass watched the figure fall over and over again. Sometimes it would pick itself back up, other times a small few within the mass would rush forward to help it up. It welcomed this help and cherished their compassion but still walked on alone. Not that any of the few didn't try to stay with the body to keep it safe, but it rejected the constant help. It did not want to rely on the power of any other. So it walked on. Years passed by and still the body walked, occasionally finding the strength to run.
   
    As it moved farther and farther on the body grew tired and weak. Soon it heard the other bodies along the side of the road. They called to it, saying that they knew what it needed, what could heal all its pains. They begged it to stop and come with them. The body looked back and the mass was miles behind. They did not see the other bodies or hear them call out to the lone figure. As the calls continued, it started to slow down and the others drew closer. By now it was growing weaker with every second. Its heart started fading, its mind slowed, and the flame that once burned so brightly within its eyes dimmed. The others spoke softly to it, speaking words of compassion and comfort. They reached their hands out to the delicate form and in its pain it looked up and stretched out its own hand. Smiling, they told tight hold of the arm and enveloped the body. They soaked it with sweet words and led it away. They took it saying they would make everything better yet desired only to satiate their own sick passions, caring nothing for the heart inside the body, nor the mind, nor the soul. Taking it to a quiet place they took all they wanted from it, leaving the heart almost hallow, the mind racing. They tortured it. They reopened the wounds that had long been closed. They made new ones. Again and again they stole from it. It never cried. It never tried to run. It only took the pain and let them do whatever they pleased believing it did not matter anymore.
  
    Soon the body became unrecognizable. The body broke. Too many wounds saturated its flesh and the heart failed. The mind could take no more. The others left the body to take their own rest. A small flicker of the flame inside its eyes remained and left alone it grew. The heart started feeling again. The mind thought. The wounds began to stop their bleeding and the body attempted to move. But it was not fast enough. The others returned. They saw the flame and feared that their toy might grow stronger and run so they took out knives and cut it down. They carved into the arms and torso and separated the shins from the knees. They carved cruel words and twisted designs in the thighs. They cut open the chest and sliced into the heart. They body gave in and collapsed. The flame burned down to one tiny ember buried deep within that they could not see. Now, believing that the flame was extinguished and that the body could do nothing, they threw the worthless shell away into a pile of dirt and walked away. They felt no guilt.

    Still yet the body felt. As it lay in the filth it opened its eyes and looking up found another body sitting beside it. The new body was scarred far more than the first. The worse form bent over the body and took its hands. It spoke to the body and though its words were kind and compassionate, the body distrusted it. It looked at the body and began to dress its wounds. It told the broken bloody form that it could heal the wounds and take away the pain. This time things were different. The compassion in the voice was sincere and slowly the body began to trust as the other dressed its wounds. As it healed, the body realized that the new form was whole and had the power to bring it back to the road. The once tiny ember sparked and grew into a stronger, brighter fire than the first flame. The new form took the body in its arms and carried it out from the dirt and back to the road. By the time they reached the road again, all the wounds were healed. The heart loved again. The body was able to walk, but this time it did not walk alone. The new form walked beside it and kept it safe. The mass still left behind, but the body cared for the mass no more. It was whole. It looked ahead and saw light. Shadows still littered the road, but they did not overtake it. Scars remained, but they did not hinder it. They reminded it of all that had been lost and all that was new, whole, and better.