Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.
A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.
IP: 69.179.183.55
Posted on February 24, 2012 at 10:55:27 PM by Methusalah
{Until the dawn breaks,until the ground quakes,until your all gone,I’ll still be here, but you won’t; Why?}
{When it’s the end of time,the cities are burnt,the villages meat,the corpse count complete; Why?}
{I’m the only one|one,the only one alive when the rest fall,still standing on my own soul; Why?}
{Because I drank an angel’s blood,because I ate an angel’s flesh,left it in it’s the blood; That’s why.}
Nobody articulated to me that it would be this agonizing. Nobody told me how to manage or cope in these environments, informed me about the reciprocation of existing. And I was entirely unprepared. It was all so allegedly real, watching them come and go. They didn’t acknowledge each other, didn’t even try to show an act of greeting, they were all so… ritualistic. I couldn’t look absent. I adored them, coveted their every lithe stroke of a brush, protected them from afar; even felt it when they mourned. I was an Abercrombie from it, but I refused to coddle with it, permit it to get adjacent to me. It was something I had cultured, something I’d been voiced. Sentry from a distance, look, don’t touch. So I complied, hovering over them, waiting for their friable frames to shatter the picture, plummet in a thousand pieces that I’d never be able to get composed again. No matter how extensive my attempts, how much discomfort I grieved, I was at no time sufficient for anyone, never enough to protect them, I wasn’t, and I couldn’t be with them. I: The animal eating brine, ravenous on a full stomach, subzero with a fever under the wet sheets, drowning with the midair my famished lungs desired so dearly inches from within my comprehension. Manifested within such a few moments, inactive here in a seared crib of lilies where I assembled my thoughts, was a tender care I could never discharge, everything I knew I would never be able to give a haven. The solitude was my advocate of serenity, icy digits weaving into my tinted hame and tearing the warmth from within. I’d arrived here shortly after daybreak in search of a wolf I once knew; we’d both been fledglings at the time. Just misplaced children chasing our tails in endless loops, but he’d been a conceited creature, crown held aloft, an air of undisputed authority always holding profligately to him. I could only hope I wasn’t too late, that he wasn’t already vanished. It had begun instigating to be so hard to catch them, so intolerable to stop their swift departure without a farewell. They erected themselves cairns, made them to collapse, and I wasn’t strong enough to catch them.
The sun was already at a crowning of some sorts, leering down on us, the abandoned, the forsaken. I’d never felt so alone, never felt so despaired. Sitting in my temporary domicile, a small alcove beneath a charred willow, bent and broken from an inferno long past, I was dropping hope. I’d been here for hours, my muscles long since numb from the morning dew, a giant among men, and still he had not showed. This was the most likely habitation for him to be, he’d always valued being here, It was his haven; All his own. Even after the fire came through, it had always been his favorite. By now he would be an adult, black fur, awkward bulk. I was at a loss to where else he may be, and it slayed me that I couldn’t do more. I was useless, cowering into the shadows to avoid getting attached, to save myself from the pain. It was selfish, really, a cravenly thing to accomplish. Confrontation, just the thought of it made my whole body strain towards the romping wolves among the flourishing flora. I’d prompted myself many times on why I could never be with them, with these beautiful creatures. It was because they would all die one day, all leave me behind. I was always being left behind, always the one to get pushed to the back without any regret. Why would they die, without me? How many families had I united, only to watch them all perish? Friends disappear into a deceased stupor without so much as a twine to ravel. I was dithering in life, and no one slowed down enough to throw me a lifeline. They said I was lucky to have lived this long, when really I was no older than the next. They said I was lucky to be a survivor, when really all I wanted was for them all to wait for me to die with them. They said I was blessed to have a love, when really… She couldn’t slow down for me, and I was left overdue once more.
The eaves from the west rose above me, whispering their consent for me to die, mocking me with their immortal depths. Shuffling as to get a better view of the other wolves, and to get away from them, I resumed my sitting posture. A pillar of stone, I was resilient, I could live, I could defend myself, I just could never share with anyone else. Damned to be a selfish coward. My life meant nonentity to me; I would pitch myself in front of a hurtling moose to save a finch, take a bullet for a stranger. There was nothing worse than being destitute, watching without control to stop, dynamic without brakes. Because truthfully, what is worse: Knowing you could have done something to stop it, or realizing that there was and is nothing you’ll ever be able to do to prevent it. I vouch for the latter. The early morning mists had long since saturated my fleece and left me struggling against an après shiver. But then again, I deserved castigation, for letting those all go, for not being adequate. So I let the cold conquer, bring me to my knees in frigid impasse. I was a polaroid awaiting the vital to turn me on, a key that was certain never to arrive.
Replies:
- are the memories i hold still valid? - By Machika February 25, 2012 at 00:45:25 AM
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