12-17-2015, 11:30 AM
tell me we’re dead and I’ll love you even more;
For a moment there are warning bells.
There is a noise – loud, too loud, a sound of cracking
(bones)
off in the distance. Somewhere there is laughter and it’s a sound she knows, it’s a sound lurking in the very marrow of her. Fear collides with air in her lungs and she doesn’t – can’t – breathe. She tries to take the dream back form whatever – whomever – holds the reins but she is not strong enough, she is kept here.
The déjà vu of it is terrible, she waits for the voice, for it to condemn her to pick who will die next.
Waits to be made executioner again.
(She has never hurt a soul.)
(She has killed a legion, her creations tearing each other to pieces.)
The bells fade.
The world shifts.
The void and vacuum of space is gone, replaced now by a land. A barren one, nothing but dirt, and far too many shadows.
But it’s okay. She’s worked with this before.
Let there be light, she whispers, and from the sky pours a beam of light so dazzling she gasps, draws back.
The light recedes, and in its place is a man, a deep and rich purple, the color of royalty.
Hello, he says, and she smiles. She reaches out.
The bells chime.
He tells her he loves her.
He tells her he loves her as he destroys her and she wants to believe it, because she is a stupid girl who has never been loved, who lives in dreams and nowhere else.
He tells her she’s beautiful as he strips skin from her and she wants to believe it, because she has always wanted to be beautiful.
He tells her this is what she deserves and she believes it, because she is the one who sent horses to their deaths, who once created birds and panthers but could not save them.
The bells chime.
What’s left of her wakes, aching, in a cold sweat. What’s left of her is bruised and sick and alone.
What’s left of him grows in her stomach, magic.
(She doesn’t realize it for the months. She tries to forget what was done. What was said. But her stomach grows and she cannot deny it.)
What was made between them is born at the witching hour, two daughters. One is a pale lavender, like him, but diluted.
One is white and shines rainbow in the light and looks like a dream come alive and when Heartworm looks at her she thinks she might go mad.
HEARTWORM
this is confusing af but ta dah, they are born. only a season late.