like a river runs — angel de costa [oneshots]

Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Nov 23, 2018 4:35:25 GMT -5

Your light, it follows me in darkness
I'm trying hard but I can't win
And I've played the victim for a long long time
And I wanna grow up

I don’t leave Parson’s side, watching the metals around us sparkle. His hands grow colder as the hours rush past and soon, they are ice inside my feeble grasp.

But, he looks as if he was in a deep slumber, eyelids closed and lilac with dead veins, head cradled in the net of my arms. Crisp air makes the dried tears vanish from the cheeks, traces of mourning gone, and I am as hollow as these tunnels, trembling at the unknown.

Parson Cham died – and he took with him, direction, morale, the shards of my glass heart. Through presence and divine hands and a lover’s mouth, he solved the grandiose puzzle of how to reconstruct this broken organ. But, the answer does not make sense without the correct equations.

Everything falls into retrograde and I am back on square one, a boy devoid of love with a mechanic heart, living a death wish, craving the reaper’s blade to fall, desperate to feel anything and everything.

The torches the others left behind soon begin to fade, reduced to an orange heap of embers, and shadows rise from their corners as dark encroaches upon us, thick and asphyxiating but an escape from the wandering cameras nevertheless.

“I won’t ever forget you,” Lips mutter against the smoothness of his forehead before arms set him down upon the rainbow flag I’ve sprawled over the ground, movements laced with a strange delicateness. “Parson Cham.” The name feels abridged as it flows past the wall of clenched teeth, the person attached to it no more. “Not in life and not in death.” Hands enfold the fabric around him, and rest my own rhinestone hat over his face.

It’s a makeshift burial of sorts; the precious metals behind acting as a glided frame about his resting form. I reach for a tiny gold stone to serve as concrete memories of the boy. 

“Rest well.”

After gathering the spears from the floor, I abandon Anatalia and Hell with the promise of a reunion later coiling heavily on a dried-out tongue.

Footsteps lose their hollow resonance as they pitter-patter out from the tunnels, eager for a change of scenery and air. The cool draughts are a pleasant change from the torches’ heat, caressing the stray ends of hair. Intersection of sun-glow at the end of the tunnel carries a hope that is as foreign as it is welcomed.

The sun has not disappeared yet, hanging low on a mysterious horizon, its luminescence staining the clouds to a warm mosaic of colors, and for once, it seem serene and buoyant – despite the heaviness of death and guilt stuck to my chest and shoulders.

Parson, the bird, croons a melody as it rests alone, inside the rhinestone bag. “Shh,” I whisper. “You’ll get company soon.”

And if you see me in the darkness
I hope you know I'm not alone
I carry you with every breath I take
I won't let up, until the wind is gone


lyrics + title: like a river run - bleachers 

[ angel tries to catch a word ]

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