My Hyacinth Girl
Title: My Hyacinth Girl
Fandom: T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land"
Rating: G
Other: Written for the August 3rd contest (Like Hamlet) in 31_days.
My Hyacinth Girl
My Hyacinth girl, my Irish child, I miss you dearly. We tasted true bliss while we lasted, while we held against the outside world. Where we lived, there was life only. The waste land remained a great distance away, incomprehensible to us in our garden, our haven. We were unaware… Yet I cannot leave it as such. We knew that we were lucky, somehow. Knowing made our love sweeter still.
We could not stay hidden forever. The wasted air crept into all things, spread its tendrils to grasp the most tender of objects. It found us at last, brought new knowledge, brought new and unpleasant sensations. I adapted, twisted myself to fit with this new situation, this roughness. You were unable. I watched you fall, even sink, yet could do nothing for you. To survive, I could look for myself alone. The coming of the wasteland brought emptiness to our garden. It caused your beloved flowers to wither, and with that your innocence and thus your life withered as well.
People may say what they like about your death, if ever they care to speak of it. They will say that you drowned, that you killed yourself. I will not believe this; I know it to be false. You had no control over this event. It was the waste catching you, dragging you away. In your innocence you could not resist. Briefly, I saw you before. Saw you as you rushed with flowers, rushed almost madly toward me. Soon after, you were gone.
Now I am alone. You, like Ophelia, have fallen to your death in water. I, your Hamlet, remain in this confused world, seeking impossible resolution.
Fandom: T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land"
Rating: G
Other: Written for the August 3rd contest (Like Hamlet) in 31_days.
My Hyacinth Girl
My Hyacinth girl, my Irish child, I miss you dearly. We tasted true bliss while we lasted, while we held against the outside world. Where we lived, there was life only. The waste land remained a great distance away, incomprehensible to us in our garden, our haven. We were unaware… Yet I cannot leave it as such. We knew that we were lucky, somehow. Knowing made our love sweeter still.
We could not stay hidden forever. The wasted air crept into all things, spread its tendrils to grasp the most tender of objects. It found us at last, brought new knowledge, brought new and unpleasant sensations. I adapted, twisted myself to fit with this new situation, this roughness. You were unable. I watched you fall, even sink, yet could do nothing for you. To survive, I could look for myself alone. The coming of the wasteland brought emptiness to our garden. It caused your beloved flowers to wither, and with that your innocence and thus your life withered as well.
People may say what they like about your death, if ever they care to speak of it. They will say that you drowned, that you killed yourself. I will not believe this; I know it to be false. You had no control over this event. It was the waste catching you, dragging you away. In your innocence you could not resist. Briefly, I saw you before. Saw you as you rushed with flowers, rushed almost madly toward me. Soon after, you were gone.
Now I am alone. You, like Ophelia, have fallen to your death in water. I, your Hamlet, remain in this confused world, seeking impossible resolution.