Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
More rings of laughter, more chiming bells, and the youth was bewildered, enraptured, captured in the potential, in the possibilities. She knew better, she really, truly did, but it beckoned and clawed over her like sirens. Her eyes narrowed and she twisted and turned, trying to seek, to see, if there was anything contained within the pool – a trick, a note, a speculation, but there was nothing obvious, nothing amiss. Just the curl and ripple, just the ebb and flow, and the echoes, the carols, of her sister’s giggles, eternally warm and tender, compassionate and whole, as if she’d never been gone.
Melita was only pulled away from her trance and confusion by the quiet presence of Sunjata; she couldn’t recall, remember, her uncle appearing, descending, or being there at all – and so she shot forward, hands instinctively reaching out – but into nothing except the water.
Not so gracefully, she fell face-first into its contents; words barely sputtering, the bracelet on her ankle keeping her aloft, afloat, along the surface. Her heart pounded, and she might’ve cursed herself for being so stupid.
She looked up from where she lingered on her knees, crouching upon the fathoms, wild and lost, grinding her teeth together, shaking her head so the crimson shock of hair flickered around her like flames. “I thought I heard Clem,” a dumb, ridiculous statement, and she shrugged her shoulders, remembering again, the levels of irritation, frustration, rising to the surface. Another breaking and boiling point, cutting along her tongue; edged and poised for days upon days. “Don’t you have governor things to do?”
Melita was only pulled away from her trance and confusion by the quiet presence of Sunjata; she couldn’t recall, remember, her uncle appearing, descending, or being there at all – and so she shot forward, hands instinctively reaching out – but into nothing except the water.
Not so gracefully, she fell face-first into its contents; words barely sputtering, the bracelet on her ankle keeping her aloft, afloat, along the surface. Her heart pounded, and she might’ve cursed herself for being so stupid.
She looked up from where she lingered on her knees, crouching upon the fathoms, wild and lost, grinding her teeth together, shaking her head so the crimson shock of hair flickered around her like flames. “I thought I heard Clem,” a dumb, ridiculous statement, and she shrugged her shoulders, remembering again, the levels of irritation, frustration, rising to the surface. Another breaking and boiling point, cutting along her tongue; edged and poised for days upon days. “Don’t you have governor things to do?”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
