can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars,
I could really use a wish right now;
She had never had nightmares until that day in the forest.
She had known there were monsters; she had known the world was not the illusion she thought it to be. She could not be raised by her mother without getting a glimpse of what the dark was like, and how it could disguise itself as something beautiful.
It’s why she should have known better than to drift so far into the depths of the forest. She should have known better than to let herself be captivated by the armored beasts that spawned from the shadows.
And yet – knowing better, and actually realizing it fast enough to act on it, were two very different things.
Across her shoulders and haunches her skin was scarred where the alien acid had burnt her, and again where their teeth had tore her open. She could still hear their feral, other-worldly sounds, still thought she could feel their hot breath on her neck. She never should have made it out of there alive, and she wouldn’t have, if Casimira had not intervened. The guilt that she feels over her sister was just another wrench to the ever tightening anxiety that had taken root inside of her chest; she had ran, and she had never gone back into the forest to see if Casimira had made it out.
She never went into the trees at all, actually.
She stayed at the river and the meadow, always lingering close to others, but trying her best to never draw attention to herself. Sleep never came easy, except sometimes during the day. Her mind and body were weary, but every time she dared to drift off, the snap of a twig or the rustle of the grass jolted her wide awake. And every time she closed her eyes all she saw was the two black, armored faces, with the knife-like tails and depthless eyes staring back at her.
The edge of the river offers some kind of peace. It’s not much, but she listens to the water as it rushes past, noticing the way the moon and the stars reflect off the surface of it. There are others nearby, as always, but she never looks at them. She simply stands, silent, fighting every urge to sleep even though the lullaby of the night does its best to drag her under.
I'm praying that this stairway leads somewhere like Heaven's door,
and when you get there don't look down
@[Pentecost]