in musing among the fireweed . andromeda&nysa
May 23, 2020 23:55:06 GMT -5
Post by flyss on May 23, 2020 23:55:06 GMT -5
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The dazzling warmth of the oncoming summer covered me in a blanket of sun, the gentle swaying of the fireweed around me dancing in tune with the inevitable awakening of the birds and the bees. My face was calm, lips parted slightly to taste the sweetness of the wind, and my eyes were so softly shut that I thought they might open if the right breeze were to drift through the grove. It had been hours since I married the ground here, yet it felt like only seconds had passed since I last spoke my vows to mother nature. The day was kind, though, because when I peeked through my golden lashes to check the time, nightfall was still a dream or two off. Quickly, I settled into the bed of loam and forget-me-nots beneath me; I knew that the dusk would not be as forgiving as the dawn.
"Stay still."
Drifting into rest, I was greeted by the clawed hands of a woman whose voice commanded me into fear. "Poor thing," she spat in between fits of laughter and disgust. I could see, through the layers of crusted blood and tears, two figures circling around me in time to the beating of my heart. One was tall and had skin the color of a voodoo magic hibiscus; the other was short and trailed happily in the shadow of the first. "Speak up, dear," the taller woman teased as I tried to speak a mouthful of blood into words. "I can't hear you over the sound of you dying."
"The sound of me dying?" I implored, spitting a crimson wad of mucus onto the ground and trying desperately to scramble upward as if escape were a thing I was capable of doing. Before I could ask her what she meant, though, I felt a boot dig deep into my chest, the grooves of its outsole pressing knives into my ribs as the force of the world shoved me back down again.
"He's not coming, you know," she sneered, avoiding the question. "Your little knight in shining armor isn't going to be here to save you this time, One." I could feel the heat of her gaze ignite the air around me before the kerosene even hit my tongue, and I felt my stomach heave as I threw my body forward in a futile attempt to stop her. I tried to scream out to the monster before me, to tell her that she didn't know what she was talking about and that he would be here-- she'd see! But my mouth was full of something thick and I no longer felt connected to the conversation at hand.
Who was the "he" she spoke of? And who was the "she" that spoke of "he"?
Back in the field, my eyes shot open with the fear of a man knowing nothing; a single tear rolled down my cheek as I made sight of a man I knew nothing about.
"Who are you?"
Nysa Pygar
The dazzling warmth of the oncoming summer covered me in a blanket of sun, the gentle swaying of the fireweed around me dancing in tune with the inevitable awakening of the birds and the bees. My face was calm, lips parted slightly to taste the sweetness of the wind, and my eyes were so softly shut that I thought they might open if the right breeze were to drift through the grove. It had been hours since I married the ground here, yet it felt like only seconds had passed since I last spoke my vows to mother nature. The day was kind, though, because when I peeked through my golden lashes to check the time, nightfall was still a dream or two off. Quickly, I settled into the bed of loam and forget-me-nots beneath me; I knew that the dusk would not be as forgiving as the dawn.
"Stay still."
Drifting into rest, I was greeted by the clawed hands of a woman whose voice commanded me into fear. "Poor thing," she spat in between fits of laughter and disgust. I could see, through the layers of crusted blood and tears, two figures circling around me in time to the beating of my heart. One was tall and had skin the color of a voodoo magic hibiscus; the other was short and trailed happily in the shadow of the first. "Speak up, dear," the taller woman teased as I tried to speak a mouthful of blood into words. "I can't hear you over the sound of you dying."
"The sound of me dying?" I implored, spitting a crimson wad of mucus onto the ground and trying desperately to scramble upward as if escape were a thing I was capable of doing. Before I could ask her what she meant, though, I felt a boot dig deep into my chest, the grooves of its outsole pressing knives into my ribs as the force of the world shoved me back down again.
"He's not coming, you know," she sneered, avoiding the question. "Your little knight in shining armor isn't going to be here to save you this time, One." I could feel the heat of her gaze ignite the air around me before the kerosene even hit my tongue, and I felt my stomach heave as I threw my body forward in a futile attempt to stop her. I tried to scream out to the monster before me, to tell her that she didn't know what she was talking about and that he would be here-- she'd see! But my mouth was full of something thick and I no longer felt connected to the conversation at hand.
Who was the "he" she spoke of? And who was the "she" that spoke of "he"?
Back in the field, my eyes shot open with the fear of a man knowing nothing; a single tear rolled down my cheek as I made sight of a man I knew nothing about.
"Who are you?"
