Maybe it was the fall that woke him, knocked consciousness back into his body, struck him hard enough to make him suck in a desperate breath.
It hurt that first breath, like razors taking to his insides, ripping through his lungs with a burning sensation. His eyes hurt too, really, blinking to adjust to a blinding light that is ceaseless and unavoidable. Heaven, he tells himself before his sight clears, acclimates to the brightness of the room. There is something familiar about this place, like he has been here before, a distant memory, a dream. Something he recalls in the very depths of his subconscious but he can not place a finger on when or how or why.
The walls around him flash as he shakily stands, images of places, worlds, people he does not know surround him. Each one slowly comes to an end of the year, a stopping point, a starting point. This is both an end and a beginning.
“Oh, look at you,” a voice says, a girl’s voice, and on baited breath Druid turns to take Her in, because with every fiber of his being he knows it is Her. She sits in the center of the room, surrounded by a glowing sphere, one which he notices is pulsing, is shrinking as the minutes tick by. It is something both magnificent and frightening because it is quite obvious what is happening to the sweet girl in the middle- the angel if ever he had seen one. She doesn’t scream now, not yet, but she doesn’t need to- Druid understands.
“Every year, he tries, you know,” she tells him as she waves a dainty hand and his ailments heal. The sharp, bloody, pain at his chest fades away, the burning in his sides, the ache of his legs and lungs- they all end. She is so very beautiful, he thinks, admiring her glowing white hair and vivid blue eyes. It is no wonder Time loves her, Druid finds that he too loves this girl, it is so very hard not to. “He cannot come here. I am a fixed point in time, a place that even he cannot touch. So every year, he sends a handful of chosen ones to save me. Most don’t make it this far.”
There is a sadness in her words, a sadness but an understanding, an acceptance. She knew she was to die, over and over again. Like clockwork she ticked, ever so slowly inside that glowing sphere, a rhythm, a heartbeat- consistent and alone. She had probably died more times than Druid could count and it was her duty to do so, a sad but necessary truth. The girl turns to the wall, waving her hands as images flash by, two-leggers, horses, critters. The people jump and shout, they cheer with happiness and excitement and it is a wonder to observe. Animals simply sniff the air, shiver as though they have goose bumps and that’s only when they react at all.
As he stands transfixed by the sights before him she is busy building an exit, waving her hand to the far wall where it glows, rimmed in promise and safety. “You can take me from here,” her words pull him back, gather his attention and he looks at her confused at first and then his boggy eyes settle on the doorway. “There will be repercussions. I must come every year. You must end one year and begin the next. Time must have some meaning.” She pauses, her eyes turning a moment from her work, and they are beautiful and endless and filled with sorrow. “Or you can leave me, and face Time’s wrath. But the world will progress as it should.”
In his chest his heart races, he gulps down that breath he’d just been inhaling, and his eyes race around the stark white room. How could she so calmly place her life in his hands, leave her fate to his decision? Who was he to decide?
He doesn’t realize he is shaking, quivering there in silence as she waits for him to speak. Maybe she waits for him to act and that triggers his thoughts back to the Curupira, of how he had never taken part in something much bigger than himself. So many times he had failed to take action, standing on the sidelines angry and distraught at the world. Yet, this girl wasn’t angry. Sad, yes, but she didn’t seem angry that her fate sent her to her death time and time again. It feels like hours pass as he stands there, considering what he might do, though in all reality it may have been only moments. If he took Her to Time, surely Time would be pleased, his quest complete. Then again, if he did take Her, what would happen to the world? Would there be any change, would everyone and everything hang suspended, never changing, never moving forward? Sacrifice one to save many, would that end justify the means? How would he even get her out of the sphere, he had no extraordinary gifts, he had nothing but himself.
Himself..
I have me, he thinks, setting his jaw and pacing towards the sphere.
Blood for blood, life for life. Take Her or leave Her, it wasn’t that simple, it never is. There is always a price to be paid.
“You go, I will stay,” the words leave him as calmly and evenly as he can manage. Does it hurt to die? he wonders and surely it must because the shrill of her screaming will haunt him to his end, all of them. “The year needs an end, let it have mine now.” The livered man’s face fell, he owed Mother so much more than one life but he would gladly give it again and again. Without much thought he pressed into the sphere, the burning was electric, intense beyond all feeling. He shouted once, loud, and it rang in his ears like the tolling of a bell. “Go,” he told her, “take the exit and go to Time.” It was the first time he had ever commanded anyone to do anything and as he passed the barrier it allowed her release.
He watched her go, slip away into the safety of the exit. For a moment he imagined he left too, was not imprisoned and awaiting last call. The pictures danced across the walls, life and joy and happiness. Purpose. How beautiful it would be to be born again and again
In the end, the path never mattered. The path was only a means to an end.
It hurt that first breath, like razors taking to his insides, ripping through his lungs with a burning sensation. His eyes hurt too, really, blinking to adjust to a blinding light that is ceaseless and unavoidable. Heaven, he tells himself before his sight clears, acclimates to the brightness of the room. There is something familiar about this place, like he has been here before, a distant memory, a dream. Something he recalls in the very depths of his subconscious but he can not place a finger on when or how or why.
The walls around him flash as he shakily stands, images of places, worlds, people he does not know surround him. Each one slowly comes to an end of the year, a stopping point, a starting point. This is both an end and a beginning.
“Oh, look at you,” a voice says, a girl’s voice, and on baited breath Druid turns to take Her in, because with every fiber of his being he knows it is Her. She sits in the center of the room, surrounded by a glowing sphere, one which he notices is pulsing, is shrinking as the minutes tick by. It is something both magnificent and frightening because it is quite obvious what is happening to the sweet girl in the middle- the angel if ever he had seen one. She doesn’t scream now, not yet, but she doesn’t need to- Druid understands.
“Every year, he tries, you know,” she tells him as she waves a dainty hand and his ailments heal. The sharp, bloody, pain at his chest fades away, the burning in his sides, the ache of his legs and lungs- they all end. She is so very beautiful, he thinks, admiring her glowing white hair and vivid blue eyes. It is no wonder Time loves her, Druid finds that he too loves this girl, it is so very hard not to. “He cannot come here. I am a fixed point in time, a place that even he cannot touch. So every year, he sends a handful of chosen ones to save me. Most don’t make it this far.”
There is a sadness in her words, a sadness but an understanding, an acceptance. She knew she was to die, over and over again. Like clockwork she ticked, ever so slowly inside that glowing sphere, a rhythm, a heartbeat- consistent and alone. She had probably died more times than Druid could count and it was her duty to do so, a sad but necessary truth. The girl turns to the wall, waving her hands as images flash by, two-leggers, horses, critters. The people jump and shout, they cheer with happiness and excitement and it is a wonder to observe. Animals simply sniff the air, shiver as though they have goose bumps and that’s only when they react at all.
As he stands transfixed by the sights before him she is busy building an exit, waving her hand to the far wall where it glows, rimmed in promise and safety. “You can take me from here,” her words pull him back, gather his attention and he looks at her confused at first and then his boggy eyes settle on the doorway. “There will be repercussions. I must come every year. You must end one year and begin the next. Time must have some meaning.” She pauses, her eyes turning a moment from her work, and they are beautiful and endless and filled with sorrow. “Or you can leave me, and face Time’s wrath. But the world will progress as it should.”
In his chest his heart races, he gulps down that breath he’d just been inhaling, and his eyes race around the stark white room. How could she so calmly place her life in his hands, leave her fate to his decision? Who was he to decide?
He doesn’t realize he is shaking, quivering there in silence as she waits for him to speak. Maybe she waits for him to act and that triggers his thoughts back to the Curupira, of how he had never taken part in something much bigger than himself. So many times he had failed to take action, standing on the sidelines angry and distraught at the world. Yet, this girl wasn’t angry. Sad, yes, but she didn’t seem angry that her fate sent her to her death time and time again. It feels like hours pass as he stands there, considering what he might do, though in all reality it may have been only moments. If he took Her to Time, surely Time would be pleased, his quest complete. Then again, if he did take Her, what would happen to the world? Would there be any change, would everyone and everything hang suspended, never changing, never moving forward? Sacrifice one to save many, would that end justify the means? How would he even get her out of the sphere, he had no extraordinary gifts, he had nothing but himself.
Himself..
I have me, he thinks, setting his jaw and pacing towards the sphere.
Blood for blood, life for life. Take Her or leave Her, it wasn’t that simple, it never is. There is always a price to be paid.
“You go, I will stay,” the words leave him as calmly and evenly as he can manage. Does it hurt to die? he wonders and surely it must because the shrill of her screaming will haunt him to his end, all of them. “The year needs an end, let it have mine now.” The livered man’s face fell, he owed Mother so much more than one life but he would gladly give it again and again. Without much thought he pressed into the sphere, the burning was electric, intense beyond all feeling. He shouted once, loud, and it rang in his ears like the tolling of a bell. “Go,” he told her, “take the exit and go to Time.” It was the first time he had ever commanded anyone to do anything and as he passed the barrier it allowed her release.
He watched her go, slip away into the safety of the exit. For a moment he imagined he left too, was not imprisoned and awaiting last call. The pictures danced across the walls, life and joy and happiness. Purpose. How beautiful it would be to be born again and again
In the end, the path never mattered. The path was only a means to an end.
druid
words: 1132 points: HTML by Call