MABEL
Mabel hadn’t been a child of war; but had grown up on the stories of it, on the bubble, on the waging infidels of gods, on fairy tales and legends – yearning to cut her own teeth on knives and swords, but hardly certain of when, where, or how to go about it. She’d be eternally willing to do her part, but worried, in the back of her mind, about all the others. About her sister. About this family she knew hardly anything about, on worlds she’d passed through, left behind, on a land filled with their endless supporters, and them, the Brightened individuals, born to see the light. “Are we ready for that?” Or did it matter? Striking at shrines – to anger them? Turning others – to gain numbers? Her hand gripped hold of one sewing needle tightly, only capable of wielding it.
Maybe she just didn’t want to lose them all again –
A pause, and a reflection, a memory, of her lost siblings, of the babes who had no choice in the bitterness, in the rancor, in the hollowed bits of hell rising to the surface. Left to die, left to fend for themselves, left to become wolves or lambs; what about the innocent? “What are you going to do for the ones caught up in it?”
Maybe she just didn’t want to lose them all again –
A pause, and a reflection, a memory, of her lost siblings, of the babes who had no choice in the bitterness, in the rancor, in the hollowed bits of hell rising to the surface. Left to die, left to fend for themselves, left to become wolves or lambs; what about the innocent? “What are you going to do for the ones caught up in it?”
I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out
and stretch my claws out
