11-20-2021, 11:54 AM
Simple, she thinks.
Simple, she thinks while the blood continues to stream down her face. (Who had this face belonged to? How had he cobbled her together? How did he decide?)
He tells her that it is a forest—or, rather, he tells her that he thinks it’s like his forest—and it is an answer, certainly, but not the one she had been looking for.
She had lived once—every part of her had lived once—and they must have lived here. But she does not know where here is. The Reaper had not thought to tell her and the boy stood before has misunderstood her question.
But she just grins and weeps while he tries to explain. While he takes note of her tears. Red like a cardinal. A cardinal that drips off the end of your nose, a cardinal that slips into your mouth where the corners are upturned.
And he tells her that his tears are clear, like water. She wonders if she could coax them out of him. If she sank her teeth into his flank, would he cry? But she does not move, only grins and weeps and watches.
The answer is simple.
“Die,” she says.
“Die in your forest.”
In this forest.
“I can help,” she tells him, grinning still. As if it is not a threat. As if there is nothing at all to be afraid of.
Simple, she thinks while the blood continues to stream down her face. (Who had this face belonged to? How had he cobbled her together? How did he decide?)
He tells her that it is a forest—or, rather, he tells her that he thinks it’s like his forest—and it is an answer, certainly, but not the one she had been looking for.
She had lived once—every part of her had lived once—and they must have lived here. But she does not know where here is. The Reaper had not thought to tell her and the boy stood before has misunderstood her question.
But she just grins and weeps while he tries to explain. While he takes note of her tears. Red like a cardinal. A cardinal that drips off the end of your nose, a cardinal that slips into your mouth where the corners are upturned.
And he tells her that his tears are clear, like water. She wonders if she could coax them out of him. If she sank her teeth into his flank, would he cry? But she does not move, only grins and weeps and watches.
The answer is simple.
“Die,” she says.
“Die in your forest.”
In this forest.
“I can help,” she tells him, grinning still. As if it is not a threat. As if there is nothing at all to be afraid of.
@Wylder