Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
She could’ve laughed and mocked, could’ve ridiculed and jeered, could’ve done any amount of things that burned along her tongue and behind her teeth; but maybe it didn’t matter. Maea had stepped into her own muck and mire again, listless and uncertain. Perhaps it would all happen to them eventually – the sort of pathway disjointed and riddled with thorns, with brambles, with nettles, incapable of seeing what laid ahead through the sheer amount of barbs. With the war looming, presuming, along the horizon, what more would they be? What more could they do?
Her eyes narrowed at the semblances of things prone to breaking. Of staying far away from things cherished. The opposite of what people naturally did. She had nothing to say to that. Nothing to add. It was sad and disheartening all at once.
So instead, the youth shrugged her shoulders. “You too,” uncertain if she meant it or not, sparked into the evening. With that, she took Fangorn, the broken filaments, and everything else learned in the bizarre span of time, and flickered out as quickly as she’d come in.
{FIN}
Her eyes narrowed at the semblances of things prone to breaking. Of staying far away from things cherished. The opposite of what people naturally did. She had nothing to say to that. Nothing to add. It was sad and disheartening all at once.
So instead, the youth shrugged her shoulders. “You too,” uncertain if she meant it or not, sparked into the evening. With that, she took Fangorn, the broken filaments, and everything else learned in the bizarre span of time, and flickered out as quickly as she’d come in.
{FIN}
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
