the::shadows/that::plague/me ~Semper

the::shadows/that::plague/me ~Semper Jul 23, 2012 6:56:40 GMT -5

Post by Onyx on Jul 23, 2012 6:56:40 GMT -5

C L E M E N T L O R D T H O R N

For days, the labyrinth of my dark and wilting mind has been filled with shadows. I stumble blindly through my nightmares, brushing away shards of incessant, maddening laughter and taunts that cut into my hands like nettles. My leg is no longer powerless, and I sprint as fast as time itself. But as fast as time is never fast enough. I can never get away from what haunts me and suffocates me throughout the dark nights, for I am no more swift than it is. I would have to be faster than time to get away from these shadows. And only she was faster than time.

However, I finally found a way to mute the voice that blocks every part of normality I still possess. It acts as the silhouette in my mind, blocking out the light of hope with twisted puppets of despair. The voice comes to me when I am awake as well, at home, staring at her room, at the place where she had scratched her name into the wood in a fit of rebellion, where all the tiny marks of her existence still remained untouched. It tells me I am a coward, I could never be close to her in life and now, in death, I wish for her again. And is it true? Was I so scared of her hating me, like I know she did, that I can only wish for her now, once there's no way she can ever get back to me? But it can't be true. Clement Lordthorn is no coward.

But still the voice told me so, and I flinched at its dominant power inside my skull. Out, foul demon, out, I begged and begged for it to leave me alone but it stayed, a shadow always hot on my heels. And I became more and more lost in the maze, wrapping myself in guilt and misery. But how does one get rid of shadows? Two ways: with intense darkness, or with intense light.

I believe that, by walking through the middle of the District, looking at the place where she was taken from me and accepting the sorry nods from passers-by, even after so many days, how could I not have realised that they cared? I am on the path to finding intense light. I tried to blot out the shadows by creating larger, darker ones. I shut myself away, talked to no one, went insane, insanity that still surges inside me, that I often find hard to get rid of, and it amounted to nothing. I know that, by slowly and surely accepting that she will never sprint past, will never write poetry or sing or laugh again, but not all at once, I can burn the shadows away and fill my labyrinth with light.

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***

The gnarled handle of my cane rubs against the heel of my palm, conjuring up blisters and pale, calloused skin that I shall have to grin and bear. Strangers nod at me with dark eyes, and they almost seem upset by my loss.
I know the truth though, they are upset for they don't have a victor, not because she is gone. It's amazing, how someone who seems so significant to one person means so little to another. But I never really appreciated my sister in any case. This is how I am accepting being alone, being trapped between the shadows. I must keep walking and keep searching out the light. For somewhere in this hollow District is someone who will be my torch.

When I see a flash of blonde hair go sprinting around the corner ahead of me, towards the sun with his shadow streaming behind him, I feel like someone heard my new thought. Perhaps I do need a person to be my new light, I can't burn away all this darkness by myself. The child, who can't be any older than thirteen, is whimpering and thrashing as he runs, completely oblivious to his surroundings except for whatever hideous and surreal thing it is that must be chasing him. He looks like I do in my dreams, furiously dashing around the labyrinth of this dark and unfamiliar place with nowhere to go, just somewhere not to be. I limp after him, wanting to call out but too afraid that I will become whatever he needs to get away from if I do. The boy, crying and almost screaming now, is heading towards the woods, which have been hurled into afternoon light and look more radiant than I have ever seen them. I never came here, but I know she liked to. She had a cave here, where she would take that sick little boy who was her friend, and her rabbit. We were different in so many ways, but now I realise that we were two halves and I never let her come close enough to see that. It was all my fault I feel like this! She had nothing to say goodbye to when she looked at me in that room in the Justice Building, I was an empty shell! No. Now it has gone too far. I focus my mind back on following the boy who could be my torch.

I can follow the path he's made into the woods easily; the destruction he has made by thrashing around is not difficult to miss. What could he be running from? Am I making it worse by going to find him? The chaos in the undergrowth recedes as the tree cover thickens, as if he feels more calm surrounded by the forest, and then it stops, abruptly. Could he have known I was coming and climbed a tree? Improbable. I walk further into the damageless clearing, peering at the leaves directly ahead to see if he is staring back at me. Nothing there. Was I imagining it? It is possible that I imagined this figure, so desperate am I for some redemption, a lantern to lead me out of where I am so lost. I was hoping the little boy would burn away the shadows for me, but it seems he is the shadows. I am taking on too much, too fast. I cannot go back to the darkness again.

I turn around painfully, scrunching my face up with the new hurt that shoots through my useless leg. It would have been easier if I had just lost it entirely, and I couldn't walk at all. This way, I must prove to myself that I am still strong. When I open my eyes again, breathing heavily and pushing out the agony that threatens to take me, like the agony that took me when she was gone, when I knew she couldn't ever come home again my heart nearly stops from the sudden shock of the tiny, blonde child staring at me with huge hazel eyes and mouth agape. Whatever it was he was afraid of before, I embody it now. I stop myself from cursing aloud, and focus instead on the uneasy joy that this boy was not just a figment of my imagination. He is here.

"Hey," I murmur, one arm outstretched in what I hope is a calming gesture, "I'm not going to hurt you." I wonder if he thinks I will use my cane as a weapon, but if I drop it I will fall. "I'm Clement, and I'm afraid too. But there's no use in running from what you're scared of, is there?" The boy still stands before me, frozen and silent, clasping onto the bark of the tree behind him as if it is the only thing stopping him from falling off the edge of the world. "Please, let me help you. I need help, as well." More help than I am afraid he can ever give me.