02-24-2020, 12:54 AM
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It is violent.
The way the darkness suddenly gives way to light.
It chases a splitting ache through the center of his head as he recoils, staggers to a halt there in the center of this new chamber. The heart beats ragged in the cavern of his chest and he struggles to draw breath. There is still that same bitter panic polluting his bloodstream as he screws his eyes shut tight against the light and tries in vain to steady himself. But he sways on his feet, even still.
‘<i>Jarris.</i>’
It echoes in the chamber and in all that empty space in his skull.
It is calm, almost sweet, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of his heart.
‘<i>Jarris.</i>’
And now, some urgency. But he does not trust himself to open his eyes. He does not trust the wicked things here at the center of the earth.
But he is not safe, even with the eyes closed. And as he stands there, he remembers. In flashes and glimpses, he remembers them all. The lives and the deaths and everything in between. The heart spasms and seizes and burns, still.
He is standing in the center of the meadow, his face turned up to the sun. He can feel its heat all the way down to the marrow of his bones. And when he lowers his head, there is a chestnut mare there. She smiles sweetly, shyly. He hangs off every word that comes out of her mouth, carves her name into the meat of his heart. <i>Plumeria</i>.
‘<i>Open your eyes, you fucking coward.</i>’
This voice is different, cold.
He opens his eyes.
It is his son who stands there now, staring hard at him, his jaw set. He’d know him anywhere.
Kensley. Jarris opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. His tongue lies fat and heavy in his mouth. Useless. This figure does not blur at its edges, it does not waver. There is nothing about this figure that suggests that it is anything other than his son. He is harder now than he remembers him but so much time has passed and Kensley has always resented him, shirked any attempts he made to forge a bond.
‘<i>What have you done?</i>’ Kensley asks and then tilts his head. So much like him, Jarris thinks. Of all of his sons, Kensley was always the most like him. ‘<i>You never deserved her.</i>’
He does not have time to answer before Plumeria emerges from someplace behind Kensley and then settles in beside their son.
“<b>Plumeria,</b>” Jarris gasps, numb with relief, “<b>I was just-</b>”
‘<i>Don’t speak,</i>’ she interjects and he immediately goes quiet. And then numb with something else. His relief dissolves around those same sharp edges of panic.
‘<i>You told me you loved me,</i>’ she whispers and the voice shakes and the heart seizes again. ‘<i>I believed you. Why did you lie?</i>’ In this light – blinding, severe – it is not difficult to see the tears that gather in her eyes and the sight of them cleaves his heart in two.
“<b>Plumeria,</b>” he says, a plea.
‘<i>I said stop talking!</i>’ she shouts and he grimaces because this echoes, too. Loud and angry. ‘<i>All you ever do is talk!</i>’ The tone borders on hysteria now and he wants more than anything to close up the space between them, press his mouth to her temple, soothe the hurt that rolls off her in waves. ‘<i>All it’s ever been is empty promises! Why wasn't I enough, Jarris? Why am I not enough?</i>’ Her shoulders shake with sobs now and the sound of her crying tightens a vise around his windpipe.
They are not alone. It is not only the three of them. There are so many countless others who bear witness to this. He wants to yell at them to turn away their eyes, to spare Plumeria’s privacy. But, upon closer inspection, he sees that they are all just as familiar.
He finds Demetra’s green eyes staring back at him. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line as she shakes her head mournfully. And Charity, so fragile. Heartpin and Leslie and Charade. And another woman made of glass who bears an uncanny resemblance to Charity, too. They are all shaking their heads, staring hard at him.
And the children. All of his children. Adison, in particular, who he’d promised to protect. ‘<i>You were supposed to take care of me,</i>’ she whispers. ‘<i>You said I’d never have to be alone.</i>’ And her sister, Falon, who reaches out to comfort her as she, too, begins to cry.
“<b>I have failed you all,</b>” he says but this does nothing to sate them. If anything, it stokes the flames of their disappointment. The bone-deep sense of betrayal he has instilled in all of them. Even Dear is there, peering at him from the congregation of children, confused by their hate. But he knows by the look in her eye that she has lost whatever trust she’d had in him.
But it is not only the many souls he has loved or cherished that stand there before him.
There, to the left of Kensley and Plumeria, there is something else. Something not quite equine, but alive all the same. He looks at it and knows that it is the Tundra. His beloved Tundra, gone. Because he’d abandoned it, too. Because he had loved it more fiercely than he had ever loved anything else and he’d left it, too.
“<B>I’m sorry,</b>” he whispers. And the crowd begins to move. Not away from him but toward him.
‘<i>All you ever are is sorry!</i>’ Plumeria cries.
‘<i>You’ve always been such a fucking waste,</i>’ Kensley spits.
‘<i>Why couldn’t you just try harder?</i>’ Charity asks.
Their voices reach a deafening crescendo and he shackles his focus to Plumeria’s face in this sea of angry faces. Because he has always found such comfort in her. Because it has always been her. But there is no comfort to be found in the way she weeps now. There is no comfort for him in this chamber.
He’s standing at the edge of the Tundra. The once-king, ice-king, lost-king. He has abdicated his throne. And he is thinking about all of the things that he’s done wrong. All of the decisions he’s been forced to make. He is thinking about how he’d give anything just to go back.
And it doesn’t make any sense. Because so many of them are gone, dead. But there is one face missing in this crowd of everyone he’s ever known and pledged his heart to. Kennice. They bear down on him and he tries to suck in a sharp, panicked breath. They are real. He can tell it in the heat of their breath as it hits him square in the face as they hurl their accusations, as they call to mind every thing he’s ever done wrong. If he reached out and touched them, he’s certain they would be solid. And Kennice lies broken in the tunnel behind him, changed.
“<b>I have to,</b>” he gasps, “<B>I have to go, I’m sorry.</b>” He tries to push his way through them but they merely bear down on him harder, closing in on him from all sides.
‘<i>Oh, you have to go?</i>’ Kensley demands. ‘<i>Go ahead and go then, coward. Run away like you always do. Leave me here to pick up the fucking pieces.</i>’
Jarris meets his son’s eye.
He is standing in the meadow again. So much of his life happened in the meadow. The following sequences happen as if in a timelapse: Plumeria gives birth to their children, Charity gives birth to their children. And Demetra and Heartpin and then Charity, strangely, again (strange because it is not Charity at all but Adaline). He is smiling. Smiling until it hurts. Because he loves them all, he swears he does, he has just never known quite how to tame the bastard heart.
‘<i>You may go, Jarris,</i>’ Kensley says as the others continue to yell and demand and spit, ‘<i>but if you try to come back again, I’ll fucking kill you.</i>’ And Kensley does not look away, says it like a promise.
Jarris swallows thickly and nods. He understands. He looks then to Plumeria and shakes his weary head. “<b>I’m sorry, Plumeria.</b>” And then he attempts to shoulder his way through them. But they press in closer and he can feel them crushing him and he cries out in pain and frustration and exhaustion. </div> <div class="jarris_name">jarris</div> <div class="jarris_quote">now I’ve been crazy, couldn’t you tell? I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell</div> <img class="jarris_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/2y1t8pQH/jarris3.png"> </div> </center>
It is violent.
The way the darkness suddenly gives way to light.
It chases a splitting ache through the center of his head as he recoils, staggers to a halt there in the center of this new chamber. The heart beats ragged in the cavern of his chest and he struggles to draw breath. There is still that same bitter panic polluting his bloodstream as he screws his eyes shut tight against the light and tries in vain to steady himself. But he sways on his feet, even still.
‘<i>Jarris.</i>’
It echoes in the chamber and in all that empty space in his skull.
It is calm, almost sweet, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of his heart.
‘<i>Jarris.</i>’
And now, some urgency. But he does not trust himself to open his eyes. He does not trust the wicked things here at the center of the earth.
But he is not safe, even with the eyes closed. And as he stands there, he remembers. In flashes and glimpses, he remembers them all. The lives and the deaths and everything in between. The heart spasms and seizes and burns, still.
He is standing in the center of the meadow, his face turned up to the sun. He can feel its heat all the way down to the marrow of his bones. And when he lowers his head, there is a chestnut mare there. She smiles sweetly, shyly. He hangs off every word that comes out of her mouth, carves her name into the meat of his heart. <i>Plumeria</i>.
‘<i>Open your eyes, you fucking coward.</i>’
This voice is different, cold.
He opens his eyes.
It is his son who stands there now, staring hard at him, his jaw set. He’d know him anywhere.
Kensley. Jarris opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. His tongue lies fat and heavy in his mouth. Useless. This figure does not blur at its edges, it does not waver. There is nothing about this figure that suggests that it is anything other than his son. He is harder now than he remembers him but so much time has passed and Kensley has always resented him, shirked any attempts he made to forge a bond.
‘<i>What have you done?</i>’ Kensley asks and then tilts his head. So much like him, Jarris thinks. Of all of his sons, Kensley was always the most like him. ‘<i>You never deserved her.</i>’
He does not have time to answer before Plumeria emerges from someplace behind Kensley and then settles in beside their son.
“<b>Plumeria,</b>” Jarris gasps, numb with relief, “<b>I was just-</b>”
‘<i>Don’t speak,</i>’ she interjects and he immediately goes quiet. And then numb with something else. His relief dissolves around those same sharp edges of panic.
‘<i>You told me you loved me,</i>’ she whispers and the voice shakes and the heart seizes again. ‘<i>I believed you. Why did you lie?</i>’ In this light – blinding, severe – it is not difficult to see the tears that gather in her eyes and the sight of them cleaves his heart in two.
“<b>Plumeria,</b>” he says, a plea.
‘<i>I said stop talking!</i>’ she shouts and he grimaces because this echoes, too. Loud and angry. ‘<i>All you ever do is talk!</i>’ The tone borders on hysteria now and he wants more than anything to close up the space between them, press his mouth to her temple, soothe the hurt that rolls off her in waves. ‘<i>All it’s ever been is empty promises! Why wasn't I enough, Jarris? Why am I not enough?</i>’ Her shoulders shake with sobs now and the sound of her crying tightens a vise around his windpipe.
They are not alone. It is not only the three of them. There are so many countless others who bear witness to this. He wants to yell at them to turn away their eyes, to spare Plumeria’s privacy. But, upon closer inspection, he sees that they are all just as familiar.
He finds Demetra’s green eyes staring back at him. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line as she shakes her head mournfully. And Charity, so fragile. Heartpin and Leslie and Charade. And another woman made of glass who bears an uncanny resemblance to Charity, too. They are all shaking their heads, staring hard at him.
And the children. All of his children. Adison, in particular, who he’d promised to protect. ‘<i>You were supposed to take care of me,</i>’ she whispers. ‘<i>You said I’d never have to be alone.</i>’ And her sister, Falon, who reaches out to comfort her as she, too, begins to cry.
“<b>I have failed you all,</b>” he says but this does nothing to sate them. If anything, it stokes the flames of their disappointment. The bone-deep sense of betrayal he has instilled in all of them. Even Dear is there, peering at him from the congregation of children, confused by their hate. But he knows by the look in her eye that she has lost whatever trust she’d had in him.
But it is not only the many souls he has loved or cherished that stand there before him.
There, to the left of Kensley and Plumeria, there is something else. Something not quite equine, but alive all the same. He looks at it and knows that it is the Tundra. His beloved Tundra, gone. Because he’d abandoned it, too. Because he had loved it more fiercely than he had ever loved anything else and he’d left it, too.
“<B>I’m sorry,</b>” he whispers. And the crowd begins to move. Not away from him but toward him.
‘<i>All you ever are is sorry!</i>’ Plumeria cries.
‘<i>You’ve always been such a fucking waste,</i>’ Kensley spits.
‘<i>Why couldn’t you just try harder?</i>’ Charity asks.
Their voices reach a deafening crescendo and he shackles his focus to Plumeria’s face in this sea of angry faces. Because he has always found such comfort in her. Because it has always been her. But there is no comfort to be found in the way she weeps now. There is no comfort for him in this chamber.
He’s standing at the edge of the Tundra. The once-king, ice-king, lost-king. He has abdicated his throne. And he is thinking about all of the things that he’s done wrong. All of the decisions he’s been forced to make. He is thinking about how he’d give anything just to go back.
And it doesn’t make any sense. Because so many of them are gone, dead. But there is one face missing in this crowd of everyone he’s ever known and pledged his heart to. Kennice. They bear down on him and he tries to suck in a sharp, panicked breath. They are real. He can tell it in the heat of their breath as it hits him square in the face as they hurl their accusations, as they call to mind every thing he’s ever done wrong. If he reached out and touched them, he’s certain they would be solid. And Kennice lies broken in the tunnel behind him, changed.
“<b>I have to,</b>” he gasps, “<B>I have to go, I’m sorry.</b>” He tries to push his way through them but they merely bear down on him harder, closing in on him from all sides.
‘<i>Oh, you have to go?</i>’ Kensley demands. ‘<i>Go ahead and go then, coward. Run away like you always do. Leave me here to pick up the fucking pieces.</i>’
Jarris meets his son’s eye.
He is standing in the meadow again. So much of his life happened in the meadow. The following sequences happen as if in a timelapse: Plumeria gives birth to their children, Charity gives birth to their children. And Demetra and Heartpin and then Charity, strangely, again (strange because it is not Charity at all but Adaline). He is smiling. Smiling until it hurts. Because he loves them all, he swears he does, he has just never known quite how to tame the bastard heart.
‘<i>You may go, Jarris,</i>’ Kensley says as the others continue to yell and demand and spit, ‘<i>but if you try to come back again, I’ll fucking kill you.</i>’ And Kensley does not look away, says it like a promise.
Jarris swallows thickly and nods. He understands. He looks then to Plumeria and shakes his weary head. “<b>I’m sorry, Plumeria.</b>” And then he attempts to shoulder his way through them. But they press in closer and he can feel them crushing him and he cries out in pain and frustration and exhaustion. </div> <div class="jarris_name">jarris</div> <div class="jarris_quote">now I’ve been crazy, couldn’t you tell? I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell</div> <img class="jarris_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/2y1t8pQH/jarris3.png"> </div> </center>