05-26-2016, 10:29 AM
tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us There are visitors, but not for her. She watches some of it unfold, the reunions, but more often than not they leave a bitter taste in her mouth. It’s jealousy, that taste. Because she is alone here, the strange and dubious queen of the afterlife (never proclaimed, but the land was made for her, because of her, a limbo to exist within because she is too alive for the dead and too dead for the living). Her dark god visits, sometimes, but time is so different for him – he drifts and dreams in space, traces constellations, grows stronger there while she walks these empty sands. (Time does pass, though, and she considers it a blessing. And there is no sign of the langoliers and that awful chewing sound, reality dripping apart before their eyes.) She gestates her own powers, feels herself shift as she continues to exist here. They come from the land, she thinks, though she’s not entirely sure what they are. It’s the afterlife, seeping into her bones like radiation. Their death queen. (He would be so proud.) Mostly, though, she is alone. She walks the same stretch of beach and nothing changes. There’s no weather, here, always the same low light and grayed sky. The only thing that changes are the ghosts, a rotation of faces. She recognizes no one. She tries something, one day: she calls out. She shouts a name across the murky ocean as if her voice could carry across worlds. It’s not Carnage’s name that she shouts. He’d never really listened. Instead, it is the ghost-king’s name, shouted into the void: Ramiel. |
this is Not Very Good but I am trying to knock out all my posts before my four day weekend with no computer access.