02-08-2021, 08:16 PM
( THESE DAYS I DON’T PRAY WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES
I JUST BITE MY TONGUE A BIT HARDER )
I JUST BITE MY TONGUE A BIT HARDER )
There is safety in the movement, the perpetual motion, but there is so much danger in his obliviousness. So much danger in how eagerly he casts himself into the darkness.
When the monsters come calling there is nothing that can protect him. Not the crooked halo of ice or the crevasses cut into his flesh or the soft, downy wings curled uselessly against his ribs. He is vulnerable and foolish and he has wandered much too far from the safety of his mother’s side.
He walks and walks and walks while the shadows pulse and writhe. And he looks up sharply at the sound of someone’s voice, swinging his tiny head around in an effort to seek out the source of the sound. He cannot see her as she moves toward him, toward them, but he senses some measure of urgency in her voice.
He feels chastened, like he’s done something wrong, like he will soon be punished for it. His pulse quickens and his breath is kicked into an irregular pattern as he searches the dark. But he does not see her still and he does not see the things that had reached for him and have now turned their ugly heads in her direction.
But there is a sudden heaviness to the darkness and a sense of unease descends around him, a spectacular wrongness. He goes stock still, though he knows there is safety in movement. Should he run? Is there something here that he needs to escape?
His throat tightens and his tiny nostrils flare as he stares hard into the dark and calls, “hello? Who’s there?”
When the monsters come calling there is nothing that can protect him. Not the crooked halo of ice or the crevasses cut into his flesh or the soft, downy wings curled uselessly against his ribs. He is vulnerable and foolish and he has wandered much too far from the safety of his mother’s side.
He walks and walks and walks while the shadows pulse and writhe. And he looks up sharply at the sound of someone’s voice, swinging his tiny head around in an effort to seek out the source of the sound. He cannot see her as she moves toward him, toward them, but he senses some measure of urgency in her voice.
He feels chastened, like he’s done something wrong, like he will soon be punished for it. His pulse quickens and his breath is kicked into an irregular pattern as he searches the dark. But he does not see her still and he does not see the things that had reached for him and have now turned their ugly heads in her direction.
But there is a sudden heaviness to the darkness and a sense of unease descends around him, a spectacular wrongness. He goes stock still, though he knows there is safety in movement. Should he run? Is there something here that he needs to escape?
His throat tightens and his tiny nostrils flare as he stares hard into the dark and calls, “hello? Who’s there?”
Selaphiel
@[Mazikeen]