Peter
And I broke my promise on a very sharp rock
And I was possessed by something unfriendly
Death is not a stranger. In an old life, Peter had been It’s harbinger. That doesn’t make this loss easier. In an old life, he has been embraced by it’s cold touch. That doesn’t help either. He’s lived in a daze for weeks now, he thinks. Without the need to eat or sleep, without other people to mark the days with, they blur together. Right now, the moon is high and new, the world dark but not quiet. The runs never seem to be, not really. Rocks shift, moved by nature or magic, and bats hum their soft songs. And I was possessed by something unfriendly
There’s no real goal in mind. No reason to linger here instead of somewhere else. There’s just an undeniable urge to move, to try and work out the lump in his chest. To move and scramble up the crumbled buildings until he reaches the apex, and with it, closure or relief or something. Solutions. A purpose. Anything.
Pet knows he’s in a bad state though, because he slipped and stumbled more than once on the way to this goal. Lost his footing and slipped back down to a shattered street. He hasn’t yet moved from his latest failure, laying sprawled out with dust sticking to the fluid scrapes left behind by other failed attempts. Dramatic gasps drag in and out of his mouth, not moving deep enough to move his chest, just enough to shift, to make a sound and a motion.
And I was haunted by a demon in my sleep
And that’s how I learned to survive
And that’s how I learned to survive
