take my hand
by Solar Lin
Take my hand.
As the lights go out, as we watch the whole world burn, as everything else fades into oblivion—take my hand.
And when the light comes, let it go. Let my hand go.
Because I am not meant for this world, my darling. I can only exist on the edge of calamity, on the brink of a catastrophe that shakes the universe to its core. I only ever existed in fiery pits of flame and deep abysses where no light can touch me. It’s all I’ve ever known, and it’s all that I could ever give you. I was never meant for salvation, and I was never meant for the world—much less your world.
So when the darkness engulfs us, and when the fire spreads to the iciest tundras—take my hand. I’ll show you my world. Look around and see the world that shaped me. Take my hand, and I’ll protect you from things I wished someone protected me from. Take my hand, and I’ll guide you up, up into the surface, up into the sea and the sun and the sky and I’ll show you how blinding light can be when you’ve spent enough time in the depth of treacherous chasms. I’ll show you how different it is, to be born in light and darkness.
Take my hand, but please don’t mind how they tremble. Take my hand, but please pretend not to notice my freezing fingertips. Take my hand, but please try not to be bothered by my jagged palms. Take my hand, dear, please, I beg you—because it might be the only good thing I’ve ever done, and will ever do in my short existence. Take my hand, give it a little squeeze, if you will.
Take my hand. A second is all I need.
Solar Lin was born and raised on one of the sunny islands of Indonesia. Growing up, Solar has always been fascinated by the world of fiction, especially ones with found families and love stories. When she's not writing, Solar can be found hanging out with her four cats.