[open] Somewhere, something

[Pentecost]

Do you want to know why I use a knife?
Guns are too quick. You can't savor all the...
little emotions. In... You see, in their
last moments, people show you who they
really are. So, in a way, I know your friends
better than you ever did.

The softest of whisper carries through the edge of the meadow as the silver ghost effortlessly floats to no destination or certain point.
 
You could say his purpose has become more of a gander to nothing than a step with purpose to something.
 
He lost himself in the quest for his father—the obvious longing for acceptance a cloud that snuffed away the flame that burned motivation and curiosity. What is there left to be curious about when your brain isn’t willing to explore it?
 
And so here he is, aimless and confused. Stuck. Lost.
 
Purple curtains wind-knotted and tied hang long below his lathered neck, a sweat more likely from anxiety than from the journey he walked. A cool breeze chilling his chin lifts his attention. It isn’t until he realizes the dramatic cast of shadows that he sees the sun begin to fall behind the land’s fence of forest, evening almost at end and night nearly set.
 
He didn’t mind the dark; the twinkle of stars and the soft coo of night birds an experience he had grown fond of in his recent years. The stars remind him of her, and she had been the only grounding creature he had met.
 
A sharp grip pulls at his heart as he curses to himself beneath his breath, remembering the time of her entrance and the unbearable balance of his father. Had she entered now things would have been different.
 
But she didn’t, and he is too embarrassed to face her. So now he stands as the sun begins to creep itself to sleep, watching desperately for the first glimmer to show and for his heart to feel that small amount closer to the true star in his eyes.
 
Sometimes he swears he can almost smell her.

PENTECOST

WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW WHO WERE COWARDS?