52 weeks { avalon }

| "who tells your story?" |

["You're too much

a distant girl-"]

I find myself forgetting about her in the times where things become the calmest. In serenity and peace is where she rested her eyes, soaring off to a world where promises were made, being kept true under a sort-of spell. Although, it was too much for her at times, leaving again and again, but could one necessarily blame her? The only harm caused was the harm to oneself, and in the end, perhaps she got what she always wished for.

["Too content-

Too trapped-

In your own

Wonderland."]

It'd been 52 weeks since her name rushed across the lips of a serpent, whose tongue hissed in satisfaction. This year was different, as the names of the unfortunate pass the parted slips of those whose last names match nothing of ours. Marked one year safe, it was a kind of rejoice feeling that surfaced at the realization that another funeral, another bolted door frame would not have to take place. Where two lives were taken in the favor of one of us, and perhaps it was unorthodox to believe and hope for such a thing, but as long as it kept the ones who we love safe, for just one more year. Just one more year.

["The real world

Is not Wonderful,

Stella."]

Delicate fingers move through my fraying hair, gripping onto the brush that pushes past and through- untangling each strand and knot. I move through the silent corridors, an unusual sensation goes about- silence. In a home like this, with plenty of members who occupy the endless rooms, silence is often seldom. Although, throughout the 52 weeks that've passed, no one feels the need to exchange more than the never ending mourning of a girl who left a room vacant, even in her physical form.


My eyes dote a room where the door holds shut, forever locking from the outside in, ever since the day she left. Dusty boards and bolts lay along the floor, from attempts to conceal the thoughts and memories that never lasted very long. I couldn't blame Belle, for trying to forgive and trying to forget, but it was Eunice who'd scratch along the planks, un-nailing them piece by piece- only to take care of a corpse who'd never known who she was.


I come to a halt along the squeaky floorboard in the corridor, just outside of Stella's room. Keeping their gaze, I shift them after a few moments, and continue along my path of the dim-litted corridor, where small candle light fires lead way. There were very few of us who'd stayed here from the Town Square, helping nana with her shop. And I could sense someone in the close distance, with the lingering thoughts to board up the room once again. 

"Belle-"

{ credit to: zoë }