i am dust and shadow; any

[Joscelin]

joscelin

In some ways, to die again would be a relief. To die would be a release from the misery that is life. To escape the prison her body has become. To be rid of the storm of emotions. But life does not seem to want to relinquish her yet. Life is not done with her.

She can nearly taste his desire to rend flesh from bone. It tastes like char on her tongue. But her feet have grown roots. She should run. She knows she should. But she cannot. This is an odd sensation. She has always been a girl of air and light. She skies are her domain, the light her element. But the earth holds her captive. Her light has betrayed her. Even now, the cracks are emblazoned with it. They no longer flicker. They are bright, blinding. Pure, white light trying to escape the prison that is her skin. And it has found a way.

She can feel it there, raging beneath the surface. He should run. Why doesn’t he run? Why doesn’t she run? It is alive within her, pounding through her veins, like the heartbeat that thuds a wild rhythm in her chest. Doesn’t he realize what she has become?

His charred and cracked lips are there, next to her ear. Touching her skin. If he were not already burning, he might feel the sting of her light. The maddening, wild light. But her light does not burn. It simply eats. It devours. Nothing can withstand it. Doesn’t he know this? Shouldn’t he? So she asks him.

Do you fear the light?

there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

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