Oren Smith :: District Six :: CB :: Fin

What happens on the edge of experimentation?

Where does the path of progress end?

It ends here with broken beakers, beaten bodies, and smoke stained floor boards.

A house full of children with no tender touches from their mothers. A house full of kids who only have been taught to never disturb their Father's work. A house where the head fell to the eldest daughter of the shadowed sinner who saw herself rather in a veil of smoke than in the seat of savior. Small hands of tear swollen faces reached out for the some signs of grace, but the burden of responsibility Charlie allowed to crumbled over their fragile figures. She was never meant to be the one to care for the others, to give them what had been stolen by the scars of science. You were the one meant for the ascension.

There is no glory to its cruel crown or passion in the power it provides, for it is merely a thwarted throne of thorns. Their painful pricks had turned Father into failure, sister into addict, and you into its Goldilocks. Charlie died in the arena surrounded by snow as cold as her center. Maybe that isn't true, there was more beneath her bangs of blonde and her ocean eyes of blue. Yet, you lost respect for her far too long ago. Now you stare out from her place on the stage. You see the hands of your siblings stretching out from the sobbing shadows. You are no savior, you are no hero, nor are you a prince of anything other than pain. But the world will be damned if you don't protect them with every ounce of your being.

For once they will feel provided for.