Grand Escape

Flash fiction is a short story within 500 words or less. Grand Escape is a short story about death. 

If this is an art, it took me a while to comprehend. Let's just say that this is an art, a special move that took me a long time to master. There is a hole in my chest that I do not know how to fill. This art is created to trick my victims, no, not only them but me mostly. This art deceives me and my surrounding that I possess all of these things I glamour myself in while, in fact, those are just the things in life I am yearning for to fill my void. People say worldly possession does not bring true happiness. How naive. Try saying that to businessmen in their suits counting pennies, to the beggars in their rag counting pennies, both will answer that proper amount of capital ensures them to find what brings them true happiness. Therefore not many appreciate this art. It is a crime, a scornful way to get what you want. As I said, it takes a while for common folks to comprehend its beauty, its elegant facade. 

I steal. But don't get me wrong for what I steal is happiness. I too want to feel contented, that bubbly sensation you have in your belly when the world is alright with your presence. True I might glorify worldly possession before, but beyond the pennies, there is other essential worldly possession. When the world blesses you with fulfillment through your brain, your eyes, your hands, your feet, your ears, your voice, your face, your tongue, your muscle, you could jump to the heights no one else could ever reach. More than the digits in your bank account could bring you. The most beautiful part is that they can make you believe in yourself, that you can row through the dull nasty world because you have them. They transcend you beyond your earthly bound. I want them. I got them, ripped them apart from their previous masters because I am the best thief ever. Brains of a philosopher, hands of a maestro, face, and body of a supermodel. I did not stop even for a minute before I gain them all, the essential capitals. And I thought I already own everything.

Tonight though I realize I do not own everything. The jumps I have made do not bring me to the heights I badly desire. In the end, the escape I wish for so long stays only as a wish. Maybe when the true creator decides to practice the art on my soul, then, and only then, I can reach that escape. The most complicated thing is, to reach the grand escape I cannot spoil his magnificent art. I cannot steal from the greatest thief of all.