Come sit right here and sleep while I slip poison in your ear
No love in a family sounded heartbreaking; even to one as cold as Mabel. She’d at least had that – no matter how frustrating, how ignorant, how faithful her parents had been, there’d still been moments of adoration and familial bonding. Her siblings, undeserving of their slow, cruel ends, her twin, gone in a flash, had all been content with one another. Warm, hardworking, despite digging into soil that couldn’t grow, despite bowing their heads and praying to heralds that never listened and never cared – her irritation and rage for them had always been for moments where they could’ve just listened instead of perishing.
Lessons learned far too late.
She listened all the more, chin on her knees now, like a little ball tucked away in the shadows and corners. Maybe Samuel couldn’t forget, but these were physical, tangible mementos, scattered like ashes, nettles, and leaves; meant to go away in the wind and no longer be in the bleak line of sight. “I suppose you’re right,” she whispered in return, after a lengthy pause. “You have more time. Without them.” Her cheek touched down, and she sighed. “They can only define you to a certain point.” And then he needed to grow, grow, grow, beyond those sanctions of beginnings, and now endings.
The box crumpled and sparked, eaten away, blackened, scorched; and soon it would be nothing too. “I don’t think many of us are. But our goals are our own.” And they were things to grab and hold, rather than sink.
Lessons learned far too late.
She listened all the more, chin on her knees now, like a little ball tucked away in the shadows and corners. Maybe Samuel couldn’t forget, but these were physical, tangible mementos, scattered like ashes, nettles, and leaves; meant to go away in the wind and no longer be in the bleak line of sight. “I suppose you’re right,” she whispered in return, after a lengthy pause. “You have more time. Without them.” Her cheek touched down, and she sighed. “They can only define you to a certain point.” And then he needed to grow, grow, grow, beyond those sanctions of beginnings, and now endings.
The box crumpled and sparked, eaten away, blackened, scorched; and soon it would be nothing too. “I don’t think many of us are. But our goals are our own.” And they were things to grab and hold, rather than sink.
MABEL
