WILT
His birth had been unceremonious - one minute he was not, and then very suddenly he was. He doesn’t remember crying out in surprise at how cold the world was against his skin, but he can recall the way Starlust fussed with his mane. She pulled roughly and jerked his head around until she was satisfied with his appearance. Then, the moment she was content, his body began to bloom. Little vines crept from his mane and tail, and bright green shoots of tiny grass blades formed his coat. The boy was vibrant as the spring meadows in which they lay. Tiny pink flowers bloomed in the vines, lovely and soft. And then they all began to turn black. Black as the night, as the awful little heart beating in his chest.
He looks up at her now, days later, with the glistening black fly traps quietly gnashing and testing their bite in the air. She has tried to shy away into the shadows and away from her monster child, but his ink black eyes command her attention.
“You haven’t named me,” he whispers, tears threatening to tumble down his cheeks. Starlust looks down at him, perhaps furious at the vines that have sprouted around her ankles to tether her in place.
“Wilt,” she spits, but the command goes right over his head. The boy just grins and nods.
“Then I am Wilt,” he says as he settles down to sleep. The ground releases her and she immediately makes a break for it. Rage is an entirely new sensation to him, yet it festers up into the back of his throat rather easily. He doesn’t mean to, as he does not yet know his strength, but he drives his anger like a nail through her heart, letting all her nightmares bleed from the wound. Wilt watches her closely as she freezes and shies backward from whatever she sees. His grip loosens as she returns to his side.
“Please say you love me,” he says softly, and this time the tears do spill down his dark cheeks. “Please. Love me like I love you.”
The vines creep up her legs once more, gentle this time. They touch her cheek and explore her throat. She could rip them from her as easily as breathing, for now, but the threat is still there.
“Sister loves her children. She kisses them good night and tells them stories and you can barely look at me!” he shouts, rising onto his small branch legs now. He can make her stay, and he can even get her to lie to him. But he can never force her to mean any kind words that leave her tongue.
He looks up at her now, days later, with the glistening black fly traps quietly gnashing and testing their bite in the air. She has tried to shy away into the shadows and away from her monster child, but his ink black eyes command her attention.
“You haven’t named me,” he whispers, tears threatening to tumble down his cheeks. Starlust looks down at him, perhaps furious at the vines that have sprouted around her ankles to tether her in place.
“Wilt,” she spits, but the command goes right over his head. The boy just grins and nods.
“Then I am Wilt,” he says as he settles down to sleep. The ground releases her and she immediately makes a break for it. Rage is an entirely new sensation to him, yet it festers up into the back of his throat rather easily. He doesn’t mean to, as he does not yet know his strength, but he drives his anger like a nail through her heart, letting all her nightmares bleed from the wound. Wilt watches her closely as she freezes and shies backward from whatever she sees. His grip loosens as she returns to his side.
“Please say you love me,” he says softly, and this time the tears do spill down his dark cheeks. “Please. Love me like I love you.”
The vines creep up her legs once more, gentle this time. They touch her cheek and explore her throat. She could rip them from her as easily as breathing, for now, but the threat is still there.
“Sister loves her children. She kisses them good night and tells them stories and you can barely look at me!” he shouts, rising onto his small branch legs now. He can make her stay, and he can even get her to lie to him. But he can never force her to mean any kind words that leave her tongue.
@[starlust]