10-22-2018, 01:22 PM
somewhere between the sand and the stardust
She does not know how long she drifts for. Memory is blessedly altered in this dark and lonely reality. Pain has become only a phantom, barely remembered and too easily dismissed. She is dying. Or perhaps she is already dead. She cannot say and as she floats in the dim warmth of emptiness, she cannot seem to care.
There are flashes of memory in the darkness. She flinches from them, knowing they will bring only pain and despair. But life is too persistent. It will find a way, even when she does not want it to. Fleetingly, consciousness prevails until she is dragged under once more.
She knows there is sand. Her body presses heavily against it. In the dim recesses of wakefulness, she can feel pain. The dull ache of muscles, the sharp spasm of a torn hip, the grief in her heart. But she forgets easily when blackness returns.
She doesn’t know how long she floats there. Long enough for realization to settle that she must fight. Long enough for her to know she does not truly wish to die. And so she struggles for the surface, fighting her battered body, fighting a deep-seated evil that has invaded her very bones. She inhales sharply, the scent of salt and ocean and death mingling with the familiar scent of flame and smoke. Of Levi.
But her eyes seem too heavy, her mind encased in a thick fog that she cannot seem to break. Her whole body hurts, her very soul aching with memories she cannot seem to recall. “Levi,” she rasps, her voice barely a thread of sound, lost amidst the sound of crashing waves. She struggles to cling to him, to his scent, to the warm press of his body against hers.
But once again, she is lost, dragged into the depths of unconsciousness by an immutable force. An illness that claws at her, gripping her tight in it’s merciless grasp.
There are flashes of memory in the darkness. She flinches from them, knowing they will bring only pain and despair. But life is too persistent. It will find a way, even when she does not want it to. Fleetingly, consciousness prevails until she is dragged under once more.
She knows there is sand. Her body presses heavily against it. In the dim recesses of wakefulness, she can feel pain. The dull ache of muscles, the sharp spasm of a torn hip, the grief in her heart. But she forgets easily when blackness returns.
She doesn’t know how long she floats there. Long enough for realization to settle that she must fight. Long enough for her to know she does not truly wish to die. And so she struggles for the surface, fighting her battered body, fighting a deep-seated evil that has invaded her very bones. She inhales sharply, the scent of salt and ocean and death mingling with the familiar scent of flame and smoke. Of Levi.
But her eyes seem too heavy, her mind encased in a thick fog that she cannot seem to break. Her whole body hurts, her very soul aching with memories she cannot seem to recall. “Levi,” she rasps, her voice barely a thread of sound, lost amidst the sound of crashing waves. She struggles to cling to him, to his scent, to the warm press of his body against hers.
But once again, she is lost, dragged into the depths of unconsciousness by an immutable force. An illness that claws at her, gripping her tight in it’s merciless grasp.
Rapture
there is a pulse that echoes of you and I
