This man…this evil man…twisted emotions of negativity clouds his mind. He is sharp and quick, and even when he is angry, he doesn't let is show. You can't make me angry he had said. Well, that was a lie. Everything made him angry. Everything.
Truth is told. I didn't mean to see into that man's mind. It's hard when you cannot choose, and choices I would have made. Many in fact. It's hard when you see into the mind of chemical rage itself, or into the mind of death. Even death has a voice, and his is silent, and yet it tells everything. But I don't know what I'm saying. I never do.
One thing I do know—a man who has done 'fine works' has a mind like a twisted slug. Seeing into this could burn you, if you are weak. But I fought past all this insanity to this wonderful place in this man's mind. It was impossible, and maybe he was the only one who didn't see it that way. But now that I think of it, maybe he was the only one who saw it as impossible, for it was in his mind.
He showed me—no, I showed myself—his heart's desire. I saw a world without sin.
The sun was bright. Not a cloud in this sky of gold and blue. Fruits grew ripe and the rivers flowed and pooled and bubbled, yet there was no rain. Colors were highlighted as if drawn with the markers of a child. Structures that were modern yet seemed so…Earth-That-Was took root in the ground with the trees and the animals. Everything was clean. Even the dirt. Even the people.
There I stood, in a patch of sunlight on the grass, watching this beautiful world turn before me, feeling actual warmth. This man had thought things through. Details, details, details. I watched and I listened with my own mind in that of another's, keeping my own sanity while watching the vast implausibility around me.
I pulled away. I hadn't meant to go into his mind, but rummaging through it like it was his desk was rude. I never rummaged. The minds of others shouldn't be opened and scanned like books, but they were.