Atrani
Darkness is her life, the only constant thus far she can trust. She sees nothing; her world is an abyss of blackness, consuming her and consuming her thoughts. It’s all she knows, all she is truly familiar with at every hour of the day. Without eyes, she can’t even take note of when the light bathes her or when she is shrouded in the shadows. She knows nothing, sees nothing. Perhaps that is why she is unafraid when Rhonen advises her of the terrors that lurk in the night.
What she cannot see cannot truly harm her.
And what would it be like to die – to be killed? Would it be more darkness?
That doesn’t frighten her, because that’s what she experiences daily.
She can’t see a murderer lurking nearby or see the lying faces of ill friends.
So what is there for her to really fear?
Atrani is bold in being alone, but when she draws in a breath – deep, calculating – she realizes that she truly isn’t alone. Rhonen is closer to her, his scent stabbing into her nostrils, but it isn’t his that’s sounding alarms in her mind. It isn’t he that is sending her heart into a panic. While she worries inwardly, she betrays nothing of it to the boy. Instead, her voice falls sullen and her head slowly shakes. ”Happiness is only temporary. All good things come to an end.” Like now.
Like touching her.
The contact is familiar, as it’s a method she communicates without her vision. Feeling his nose graze across her skin sends chills down her back and legs. She enjoys it, but she frowns and forces herself away from him. ”You shouldn’t do that,” her voice is barely above a whisper, ”He’s watching. I can smell him.” She wishes that she could have warned when father was approaching. She wishes she could tell Rhonen what father looks like, but she doesn’t even know. Before she can swallow another breath, she hears Dovev’s voice above all else.
Feverish threats. Ferocious.
Dad is a monster, she tells herself as he tucks her away from Rhonen. There is no way she can battle someone she cannot see. Her world is ever black, an endless tunnel. She doesn’t know what is left and right, who is in the wrong, or where is can even escape to. The only option she has is gliding her lips along father’s ribs to his shoulder to the base of his neck. His throat rumbles from the ferocity of his voice, but that doesn’t even frighten her. A hesitant step berths space between them. ”But he’s my friend,” she lies because, in reality, they hardly know each other. She enjoys Rhonen, nonetheless, and resists her father as he clutches her close.
Through the pushes and threats and uncertainty, Atrani wiggles forward in the direction where she hopes Rhonen would be and she asks, ”Am I pretty?” Am I as beautiful as mother? Or am I truly a monster as I fear?
What she cannot see cannot truly harm her.
And what would it be like to die – to be killed? Would it be more darkness?
That doesn’t frighten her, because that’s what she experiences daily.
She can’t see a murderer lurking nearby or see the lying faces of ill friends.
So what is there for her to really fear?
Atrani is bold in being alone, but when she draws in a breath – deep, calculating – she realizes that she truly isn’t alone. Rhonen is closer to her, his scent stabbing into her nostrils, but it isn’t his that’s sounding alarms in her mind. It isn’t he that is sending her heart into a panic. While she worries inwardly, she betrays nothing of it to the boy. Instead, her voice falls sullen and her head slowly shakes. ”Happiness is only temporary. All good things come to an end.” Like now.
Like touching her.
The contact is familiar, as it’s a method she communicates without her vision. Feeling his nose graze across her skin sends chills down her back and legs. She enjoys it, but she frowns and forces herself away from him. ”You shouldn’t do that,” her voice is barely above a whisper, ”He’s watching. I can smell him.” She wishes that she could have warned when father was approaching. She wishes she could tell Rhonen what father looks like, but she doesn’t even know. Before she can swallow another breath, she hears Dovev’s voice above all else.
Feverish threats. Ferocious.
Dad is a monster, she tells herself as he tucks her away from Rhonen. There is no way she can battle someone she cannot see. Her world is ever black, an endless tunnel. She doesn’t know what is left and right, who is in the wrong, or where is can even escape to. The only option she has is gliding her lips along father’s ribs to his shoulder to the base of his neck. His throat rumbles from the ferocity of his voice, but that doesn’t even frighten her. A hesitant step berths space between them. ”But he’s my friend,” she lies because, in reality, they hardly know each other. She enjoys Rhonen, nonetheless, and resists her father as he clutches her close.
Through the pushes and threats and uncertainty, Atrani wiggles forward in the direction where she hopes Rhonen would be and she asks, ”Am I pretty?” Am I as beautiful as mother? Or am I truly a monster as I fear?
dove into her eyes and starved all the fears
picture by haenuli shin- HTML by Call - words: ________
[Image: callwolf_zpsasro4cel.png]