firelight
the goblet was designed to resemble a human skull, but that didn't stop him from filling it with red wine and taking a delicate sip. the wine was sour, to match his mood. it was the only thing that was wrong, and the only thing that was right.
the stone was a deep, pure black. it pulled you in with its weight, a void held in the palm of your hand. whispers around you, inside your mind, like a secret passed between lovers. tempting, seducing, destroying you from the inside out.
the apron was old, the pristine white gone to dingy grey. it was worn in spots with a small tear on one end where it had been caught on a hook while she was cooking. but oh, how she had smiled that day.
"look over yonder," he says, as if he had stepped out of an old storybook. and maybe he had, because as she looks down the fields of golden wheat she sees something impossible. something incredible. something amazing, and not a little bit terrifying, was on its way.
she was leaning against the trunk of the great elm tree, resting in cool shade dappled with warm sunlight. she looked calm. too calm. she knew what was coming for her. she knew exactly how this would play out. and yet she closed her eyes, smiled, and let out a sound that almost sounded like contentment.
there was something special about this grove. the moonlight shone in threads, glinting silver off glossy leaves. these trees were old. there was history here. there was belonging. there was purpose. and sometimes, when the wrong person wandered in, there was cruelty and spite and the ghosts of time came out to play.
the gauze was white and almost wispy against her skin. it wrapped tightly around her wrist, only a faint hint of red showing through. a stain on her purity, like everything else. always the failure, always the mistake. always and forever the irredeemable one.
it was all just kindling for the fire. they watched as the flames covered the tinder, the sticks and paper, drinking up the gasoline and licking their way up. up, up, up. there was no turning back now. this was the end they chose.
the fire burned hot tonight, the flames glowing blue. the air was still choked with black smoke but the soot that covered the land was absent now. there was nothing left to cover. the land had finally burned itself clean and the world was pure once again.
it was a clear, sunny day. soft light fell through her window and she looked up at a cloudless sky, blue as his eyes. those eyes that could unwind her with a single glace. the eyes that she would never see again.
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writing since 2013 · 151 entries · 149 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means firelight showed up.
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the words firelight reaches for
lightsoftairforevernighttreesredmindshonecallingwhiteskylostbeautifulnowstars