MABEL
Perhaps – and it could be a thought for after. For survival. For wars that were finished, gone, and done (were they ever?). “Later, then,” she whispered halfheartedly; the expectations brandishing over her shoulders suddenly very bothersome. She immediately drew the next blade along her digits, waiting for the right moment (the gourd was now sticking its tongue out at her), before launching and hitting its side. It snarled and sneered, waving its vines around, clearly intending to amble away; no longer worth the obnoxious fight.
But then there was the story, and she listened as she crouched and moved through blades of grass, tilting her head towards the sounds of the tale while preying upon the gourd as it shuffled down the stone steps. Old couples on cliffs, lighthouses and nothingness, pianos for gifts. Despite it being a ghostly tale, Mabel hadn’t expected the elderly pair to be the ones dead within the middle – and she wrinkled her nose at the semblances and imagination; pirates and smugglers coming into the void.
And for what?
Sunken ships and eerie fragments lent her some other proportions of theories and guesses, and a harsh bark of a laugh unfurled from her as the piano managed to find its own vengeance. “Serves them right,” she uttered thereafter, before pinning another knife into the gourd – and it finally grew silent, still.
But then there was the story, and she listened as she crouched and moved through blades of grass, tilting her head towards the sounds of the tale while preying upon the gourd as it shuffled down the stone steps. Old couples on cliffs, lighthouses and nothingness, pianos for gifts. Despite it being a ghostly tale, Mabel hadn’t expected the elderly pair to be the ones dead within the middle – and she wrinkled her nose at the semblances and imagination; pirates and smugglers coming into the void.
And for what?
Sunken ships and eerie fragments lent her some other proportions of theories and guesses, and a harsh bark of a laugh unfurled from her as the piano managed to find its own vengeance. “Serves them right,” she uttered thereafter, before pinning another knife into the gourd – and it finally grew silent, still.
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
