ohthekings
In the books, it always describes it as "It struck me". I found this funny. That wasn't how it happened. It sort of snuck up on me, a sweet little cat that seemed like it just wanted to play until it bites your neck and you jump back. You see it coming, but you just ignore it like it's not important until it's there. I wish I had noticed it before hand. I wished I had admitted it was on its way.
The walls were made of stacks of woodpiles. The piles were intricate, put together lovingly, the hands of the humble citizens leaving their unique marks. The man laughed to himself as he set fire to the first pile, then the second, then watched the fire spread down the wall. All the works, the only mark of a city, burned down as easily as a feather falls from a bird's wing. It was gone.
I giggled at the stream, flowing onward and onward, as if it were getting somewhere, but always the tail of it would be just a little ways away, never reaching its destination. He placed his hand on my shoulder gently, but I could feel the impatience brought on by worry. "Please, darling, calm down." I whispered, kissing a knuckle. He squeezed silently, and I could feel the frown.
"But I'm scared for you."
I was shaking from the very base of my being to the outer, physical reaches of my arms. There wasn't a part of me that didn't regret the atrocity just committed. Right in front of me, by my own hands, devastatingly beautiful and gruesome. There wasn't a sight that could cover the imprinted death in my eyes. It was all I would ever see again.
It was clear, that nothing was going to be found out this day. They were breathing down our necks like we were supposed to have the answer immediately. They had no idea what our job was like. No one did. I couldn't even describe it to my wife. I would smile at her sadly and say, "Just be glad you don't have to do this for a living, love." to which she would frown at me and kiss me angrily. I never understood that sad anger. I wish I did.
Concerned with the amount of work he was putting in, I began to sleep more so I wouldn't think about it while he was gone. If I fell asleep, then when I woke up he could be there, and there wouldn't be a gap between his appearances. The look in his eyes didn't concern me in a way that I thought he was cheating; instead, it brought tears to my own with the pure exhaustion apparent there.
The average guy. There's nothing too special about him, nothing about him that one can really make fun of for too long. The average girl. Pretty, but only in glancing. Can hold a conversation, but the words are not remarked upon afterward. Put the two together, make the two fall in love, and they are anything but average. There is nothing more illuminating than love in terms of one's special attributes that were hidden before.
The hair fell from her face. There were no words to describe how she felt. It wasn't just a little trim. She was changing everything. Shear it off, hide everything by taking it all away, that mass of curtain-like hair. To disappear into the world of no recognition, to run away from all that was familiar and comfortable. Was it easy? No. Was it worth it? No fucking idea.
Vision of division. I'm not feeling at my most creative today. All that pops into my head is the Grand Canyon. My parent's divorce. Job. Ocean and shore. Simple things. I don't want to let my head fall into that surface-level dump, though. I need to stimulate it, remind it that it needs to be different.
The offer was this: take what was easy and use it to jump your way to the top of an easy, predictable life with no break or difference, or take a small chance that it would be better to risk for the higher outlook. There was no way of knowing, or believing all the silly stories that made everyone unique. It wasn't easy, it wasn't probable, but it was worth it. The chance for a different ending.
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