MABEL
Recitations of death seemed abnormal, even to a girl who promised vengeance. Not a normal thing to glide past her tongue, over her teeth, wrapping around her fangs, the way her fingers splayed along the hilt. But then again, naught much was routine nowadays – not when one was reborn and the other half of her soul remained gone, gone, gone. Not when monsters promised to breathe down their necks. Not when they were soon going to strive and conquer a plague, a nuance, experiments before them.
He urged her onward, and she swallowed down the nothingness, renewing her decisions. She moved towards his spine next, sweeping the long, silver hair aside with the serrated edge of the dagger, pinpointing it as though the base was just the beginning, like it would embed and destroy. “Stab deeply. Pull towards the backbone, hit between the ones making up the neck.” To render immobility and demolition – she took a breath and stepped before them again, the tassels falling back into place.
Towards his ribs then. “Lungs, quick, before they scream.” Before they asked and pierced and yearned for help that couldn’t, wouldn’t come. “Heart. Liver.” She followed through on tapping the knife where his would reside, where they were still tragically mortal and human. “Between the ribs.” Thereafter, the armpit, hands grasping his arm, to lift it towards the sky, to not reach or meet his eyes with her own, concentrating. “Thrust up. More force from yourself.” Steps, steps, and more steps, attempting to commit them to memory as well as movement and motion.
He urged her onward, and she swallowed down the nothingness, renewing her decisions. She moved towards his spine next, sweeping the long, silver hair aside with the serrated edge of the dagger, pinpointing it as though the base was just the beginning, like it would embed and destroy. “Stab deeply. Pull towards the backbone, hit between the ones making up the neck.” To render immobility and demolition – she took a breath and stepped before them again, the tassels falling back into place.
Towards his ribs then. “Lungs, quick, before they scream.” Before they asked and pierced and yearned for help that couldn’t, wouldn’t come. “Heart. Liver.” She followed through on tapping the knife where his would reside, where they were still tragically mortal and human. “Between the ribs.” Thereafter, the armpit, hands grasping his arm, to lift it towards the sky, to not reach or meet his eyes with her own, concentrating. “Thrust up. More force from yourself.” Steps, steps, and more steps, attempting to commit them to memory as well as movement and motion.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
You will find things that you don't want to see
