01-10-2021, 06:00 PM
Awakening to the darkest of nights and the longest of black days; this is how I greet Islandres the day after returning home to it. Her score of animal inhabitants are now secured in their true colors, blended naturally into the neverending eclipse. I am not so lucky as to be granted their abilities, except that of flight and no matter how high I careen and pitch with my wings it would be useless. I still couldn’t see.
I’d had a dream the night before, a dream where my world was foggy and grayscale but not unseen. There, inside the waking nightmare, I walked and walked but found no end and no purpose to the journey, only frustration when I’d found that the path led in a circle. Again and again I tried, unsuccessfully, to navigate the false world and its riddle and each time it seemed like the circle only expanded but never changed shape. I was walking farther and farther to nowhere and nothing. Until I roared, angrily, and out of the dinge came a twisting little creature suspended on a string.
A spider, glistening and expert at its craft, dropped down to look at me with interest and then it began to weave. Thread by thread, line by line, it told the story of a pegasus mare looking down at her young foal and then taking to the sky as soon as his back was turned and his guard left down. Where she went, the spider would not say. I watched it weave and spin until I realized that I was small just like it, insignificant but building the story myself with a shining silken thread of purpose, wandering aimlessly along the paths I’d crisscrossed already time and time again.
When I awoke, there was darkness and the sensation of a thousand prickling limbs scurrying over my skin.
I tried. Someone nearby spoke up and I came to with a start, reacting by tensing for flight or a certain fight, but the disembodied voice said again, I tried.
“Who are you?” I demanded to know, smirking. Quizzical. Unusual. How very interesting. The voice refused to respond. I opened the palm of my magic and swept it across the space in front of me, looking to place that thread of connection with whatever living soul I could find nearby, and found my attempt swatted back by a much more powerful iron fist.
“I said who are you.” The question came out as a snarl, and I went from smiling to sneering, bristling underneath. Barely contained.
I’d had a dream the night before, a dream where my world was foggy and grayscale but not unseen. There, inside the waking nightmare, I walked and walked but found no end and no purpose to the journey, only frustration when I’d found that the path led in a circle. Again and again I tried, unsuccessfully, to navigate the false world and its riddle and each time it seemed like the circle only expanded but never changed shape. I was walking farther and farther to nowhere and nothing. Until I roared, angrily, and out of the dinge came a twisting little creature suspended on a string.
A spider, glistening and expert at its craft, dropped down to look at me with interest and then it began to weave. Thread by thread, line by line, it told the story of a pegasus mare looking down at her young foal and then taking to the sky as soon as his back was turned and his guard left down. Where she went, the spider would not say. I watched it weave and spin until I realized that I was small just like it, insignificant but building the story myself with a shining silken thread of purpose, wandering aimlessly along the paths I’d crisscrossed already time and time again.
When I awoke, there was darkness and the sensation of a thousand prickling limbs scurrying over my skin.
I tried. Someone nearby spoke up and I came to with a start, reacting by tensing for flight or a certain fight, but the disembodied voice said again, I tried.
“Who are you?” I demanded to know, smirking. Quizzical. Unusual. How very interesting. The voice refused to respond. I opened the palm of my magic and swept it across the space in front of me, looking to place that thread of connection with whatever living soul I could find nearby, and found my attempt swatted back by a much more powerful iron fist.
“I said who are you.” The question came out as a snarl, and I went from smiling to sneering, bristling underneath. Barely contained.
Narcisus
A thread with myself for plot purposes
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