Happiness awoke with a start. He had been dreaming. Terrible dreams. Visions of darkness and torment danced in his mind. He felt lost and confused. He wanted to cry, but knew he couldn’t. Sadness was not for him.
He frowned, contemplating this. Unhappiness may not be for him, but it certainly had him nonetheless. Happiness got up and walked down the hall to his parents’ room. Misery, his mother, and Pain, his father, were asleep when he entered their room. “Mother? Father?” he called out quietly. His parents opened their eyes to look at him. Dark, hollow, hurting eyes. Full of sadness. But he was used to that. His parents were always sad.
“Happiness? Why do you look so distraught?” his mother asked him.
“I am not well, Mother. The dreams, they haunt me. They are frighteningly real and grotesque. I want to be sad, like you and Father. Can I be sad, too?” he asked, almost pleadingly.
“Boy,” his father said, “yours is not to be sad. You are joy. Be glad. No, you cannot be sad. Tears are not for you.”
Misery, his mother, was crying. Pain, his father, looked even more shadowed and hollow in the light of the moon. Misery looked upon her child with sorrowful eyes. “Get to bed, love. Talk to your sister if you must, but be glad.” Happiness hesitated.
“Go on, now, boy. You heard your mother.”
Happiness smiled weakly, then left the room. Happiness, yours is not to be sad. The same words every time. They rang in his head and hurt his heart. They left the same empty feeling inside of him.
His facade of a smile faded as he entered his twin sister’s room. She was awake, crying quietly, rocking herself back and forth with her arms wrapped around her knees. A vision of hopelessness. Blood dripped from fresh wounds on her arms. Always bleeding, he thought. Always sad. Maybe she will let me cry with her.
“Despair?” he called gently to his sister. She hesitated a moment in her sorrow, then continued to rock herself, replying without looking up. Her voice was muffled against her knees.
“What is it, Brother?”
“Can I be sad, too?” he asked with only a faint glimmer of hope.
Empty laughter echoed from his twin as she responded. “No, no dear Happiness. You cannot be sad, too. It is not for you. Go and dream your bright dreams. Be joyful.”
Happiness watched Despair for a moment, vaguely wanting her to say something more, but nothing came from his sibling but tears. He turned, ever more dejected, and went back to his room, murmuring to himself, “My dreams are not nearly as bright as you might think, dear sister. They are as dark as yours, and more horrid than mother's or father’s. Yet only I am forbid to be sad.”
He sighed as he slumped back down on his bed, and slipped into yet another nightmarish dream.
It was hot, desolate, empty. The world was in tatters. Madmen sliced to ribbons innocents who screamed in pain. Death. Bloated corpses. Sorrow. Happiness looked around and felt only emptiness and sadness. There was no joy here.
A figure unknown to him approached.
“Happiness?” it said. Happiness looked up into a face he didn’t recognize, with features neither male nor female, and otherwise unremarkable.
“Wh...Who are you?” Happiness inquired of the being before him.
“Names are not important, Happiness. Dreams are. In life you must be joyful. It is your duty. In dreams, you may be sad. It is your right. What you see in your dreams is the absence of your namesake. If you were to not be happy in life, your worst dreams would be free to walk the earth. That is why you must not be sad in waking. In dreams you see and feel and hear the ends of the earth, of life, of faith. Hope lost. In your dreams the abyss swallows all. Here, Happiness is nothing. It is in waking your function lies. Be not sad, Happiness, in your living hours. They are but few, and your joy brings others peace. If Happiness were to cry, the whole world would cry with him. You know your purpose, and you’ve seen in your dreams how horrible a world without you can be. Believe in who you are and be sad only in your dreams.”
Feelings Happiness knew not he had began to stir, and he felt more complete and whole than he had any other time in his life. He was... happy. Warm, salty drops of water touched his face. Surprised, he raised his fingers to examine the droplets. “What is this?” he asked quizzically of the stranger.
The being simply smiled and replied, “Those are tears, little one. You are crying.” Happiness returned the stranger’s smile.
Happiness awoke to find real tears on his face, stinging his eyes. He genuinely laughed, for these were not tears of sadness, but of joy. He was still not sure of all his dream meant, but there was one thing he did now know: he had a duty. But he also had a right. He smiled, truly, for the first time since he could remember. He had a secret only he would ever know. Laughing, he jumped from his bed to welcome the new day. Happiness could be sad, too, but only in his dreams.
Back to the Various Stories.
