MABEL
There’d been days where she’d been cultivated and constructed by careful, pleading hands and unwinding fingers, laughter and recklessness, the sounds of lullabies and singsongs hastening through bonds. There’d been days where she toiled and stared out over the expanse of a barren field and wondered if it would ever grow. If prayers were heard. If anything ever really mattered. There’d been days where she’d bent her knees and said so many god damned anthems under her breath for siblings who couldn’t fight as well as them, pleading and begging to empty gods and hollowed promises.
And now, there were days where she was simply filled with greed and rage and fear.
The trepidation came with the sound of the waves basking against her ears, billowing like cycles in her memories. For a moment she wished she couldn’t remember any of it – the way she’d twisted and turned, the way she’d been smothered and held down, the way life had slowly, slowly, slowly drained out of her.
But then – these were reminders. Just like her siblings’ ghosts and memories of better days. Of her twin leaning into her. Of something that could’ve been right.
She still skirted around the treeline though, watching as the sun set, as the witching hours gnawed at her bones, as she wandered deeper into the unrelenting sand. If she gazed at it for long enough, would she grow stronger over the sea? She hadn’t with the desolate plain. It hadn’t mattered in the slightest. But she wanted to.
She’d meant to meander her way back to the Peepholes. Just to see. Just to wonder. Just to witness. The lull of the waves had tricked her though, and so she eventually rose to a boulder nearby, scaling it, standing atop it, as if she might be a mighty thing.
And now, there were days where she was simply filled with greed and rage and fear.
The trepidation came with the sound of the waves basking against her ears, billowing like cycles in her memories. For a moment she wished she couldn’t remember any of it – the way she’d twisted and turned, the way she’d been smothered and held down, the way life had slowly, slowly, slowly drained out of her.
But then – these were reminders. Just like her siblings’ ghosts and memories of better days. Of her twin leaning into her. Of something that could’ve been right.
She still skirted around the treeline though, watching as the sun set, as the witching hours gnawed at her bones, as she wandered deeper into the unrelenting sand. If she gazed at it for long enough, would she grow stronger over the sea? She hadn’t with the desolate plain. It hadn’t mattered in the slightest. But she wanted to.
She’d meant to meander her way back to the Peepholes. Just to see. Just to wonder. Just to witness. The lull of the waves had tricked her though, and so she eventually rose to a boulder nearby, scaling it, standing atop it, as if she might be a mighty thing.
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
