Weekly Composition Post — "The Gift"
(Poster image crop from original by "Malta Girl" used under CC 2.0 license)
This week's (for real this time) track is "The Gift".
The prompt was pretty specific: "That moment when the hero's down, but summons everything they've got inside them and stands back up."
I went back to short fiction, this time, because the vignette in this post — about someone who gets isekai'ed/Narnia'ed but finds they didn't get any cool powers — has lived in my head for a long time; this is just an opportunity to give it voice, and the "story" of this song is very much about this specific scene.
Feeling powerless is the worst feeling in the world. That sense of frustration, of being blocked, of feeling like there is nothing you can possibly do... something about it eats you up from the inside out. No matter the situation, it's hard not to feel like you've failed; no matter what's actually responsible, some part of your heart knows this is your fault. The more that's on the line, the worse it is.
Feeling powerless because you're in some creepy, candlelit cave straight out of a fantasy novel, and some demonic sorcerer is about to kill not just you, but all your friends?
It's a lot, lot worse.
Doesn't matter if you grew up on the Narnia books or watching isekai anime; I think everyone, in their heart of hearts, wonders what it would be like to suddenly appear in a fantastical world, to suddenly have magical powers at their fingertips. Really, though, I think it's just a way of expressing our desire to be special in some way. Most people's lives don't afford them many opportunities to feel that way; like the world needs you. Like the story of the world involves you.
Coming from the opposite side of that actually happening, and discovering that all my friends showed up in this JRPG of a universe with fantastical powers and I showed up in a t-shirt and sneakers? Kind of a letdown.
Not that all the fancy magical powers they got proved to be anything against... I've forgotten his name. I doubt it matters. Demon sorcerer guy, who's about to murder us. All their 'gifts' proved to be less than useful against a being that's been using this weird magic all his life.
I should be sad, or scared. I should be worried about our impending deaths. I can't be, though. All I can think of is, why didn't I receive any gifts? Was I not worth it?
Then I stop. The sound of my friends fighting some fantasy novel wizard, the chill air of the cave; all of it falls away. I hear a single sentence in my head:
"A gift isn't just something you receive."
Someone turns to look at me, brow furrowed, so I must have said it aloud. Someone's gesturing at me to stand back, so I must have started walking. None of this registers, however. I may be moving; I may be talking. My mind, though, is focused on one thing.
"Ha! Hahaha! Well, at least one of you has some courage," says the raspy voice of the dark wizard. By now, I'm standing between him and my friends. The entire situation is laughable; they have magic swords and magic spells and talents and abilities and I realize I've never had anything.
Nothing except these friends. People who still care about me, who believe I'm worth something.
I know what I have to do, at this point. I say it aloud, half turning to smile at my friends.
"It's me. It was me, the whole time."
I turn to the wizard. I can't look behind or I won't have the resolve to do this. I can't turn back or they'll die. I have to commit. I have to focus.
I lock eyes with the wizard, and I can tell some harmonic in my voice is introducing something to the situation that he had not accounted for to this point:
Doubt.
"I'm the gift," I say, finally. I spread my arms wide; I plant my feet. "And I give myself freely."
I feel it, too, all through my body, once the words leave my mouth. Something changing. Not inside me, but with the universe. With the story.
"If you are to offer your life," the wizard snarls, bringing his hands up, "then allow me to take it!"
I don't know what magic is, not really; I know there's something like fire, or light, or both; it's heat and force, an expression of someone's willpower attempting to wipe me out of existence.
It doesn't work.
Oh, I feel pain; I can feel a lot of pain, all over my body, as the onslaught continues, second after second, but I don't move. I can hear the stone floor under my feet crack as I literally sink into it as counterforce. Dark flame that should be leaping around me to kill the others behind me spills harmlessly off to the side, tracing the arc of my extended arms like I'm a mystical lightning rod.
I can't look back. If I look back, this won't work. My resolve will crack. I simply say, "Go."
I hear the stirrings of a "But..." behind me and instantly cut it off, without turning to look.
"I was never good at anything in life. I don't know that I was ever worth much of anything at all... except for all of you. You thought I was worth something. You gave me your friendship and that's more important, more worth it, than anything this place could have given me."
I smile. Tears run down my face, but right now... right now, I feel calm.
"So I'm going to do this right. I'm going to give you a gift back."
There are arguments. No one wants to do what I'm asking. The wizard, however, is redoubling his efforts. They know that if they don't leave, they're next. They don't understand what's even really keeping them alive right now. I'm not sure I do, either.
I hear them leave.
"I know not how you've accomplished this," the wizard snarls, "but you will not be so fortunate as they!"
I shake my head. They must be far enough away, because I can sense it. For just a moment, I was special. For just a moment, I was important to the story of the world.
Maybe that's enough.
"No," I say, calm despite feeling the last of my life leave my body, the light fading.
"They're why I'm the luckiest person... who ever lived."
I was the gift.
I gave it freely.