Brigit's Flame Week 3 May
Title: Her Dream
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 606
Prompts: “The Ultimate Sacrifice”, writing in reverse, “Abstract by ignoring”
A/N: Written for week #3 at Brigits_flame. This is the advanced level; I hope all the prompts came through satisfactorily. I have a personal challenge of writing a theme with birds, so all my entries this month have that in common. This story has a dedication, which is a first for me. You know who you are. :)
She lives.
Is it happily ever after? Who can tell? But she lives, and that is enough for now. Happy comes later, perhaps, if she is lucky. And she is told that she has luck on her side now.
It is not supposed to end this way, with her life. Indeed, at the beginning of things this was not what she wanted. And she is a planner, so things go her way. Sometimes she is distracted by details, but research is her friend. She has looked into this, and she has only to pick a date. When, when … when is a good time to stop the swing of the pendulum? The exact moment lends itself more gravity than she has expected; there never does seem a good time to cut life short. No matter how she knits, a loose end unravels. Things are ever unfinished. The mess doesn't bother her, it is the not knowing. How would things turn out? Yet enough threads continuously unwind to numb her to the tangle of knots she holds in her hands. She has to make up her mind. Today. It would be today, a day with no importance at all. A day like any other would suit. She can be contrary this way sometimes. Is she wild underneath, after all?
She is not a dreamer. She sees the world as it is, in gradients of gray, endless sheets without color or depth. She doesn't believe in Fate, and she tells herself that magic is for the young. But when she meets him on the last day of her life, she cannot deny the … coincidence.
He sees her.
She has always stood behind, slid in shadows, held up mirrors to deflect. But he is patient, and he joins her in the dimness. He shows her that he dances in the dark, that he is unafraid of what he sees. He tips her face to the light and watches her. He does not flinch at the sight.
Where did he come from, this trickster? She does not trust herself to believe that such a thing is real. If she believes it, if she looks at what he offers her, then she must give up what she has always held so dear. She is not ready. She is in love only with her despair. She has no room in her heart for any other lover. She is afraid to tell him that he came too late.
Why did he have to reveal himself now? He hides a smile. She does not think she will ever understand him, but he does not wish her to. He is only here, now, asking nothing, asking everything, holding out his hand to her.
She is a bird trapped in the net of her life. She is beating her wings until they shatter into pieces because she wants to be free from the cords that bind, even unto the breaking of her world. He is the calm that slows her fevered heart, the force that turns her head to the sky, to look at clouds and wonder, to see blue again. He is the voice in the night that thrums in her veins. His are the words she treasures above all others. He is her dream. She is a dreamer. She wants. She needs. She awakens for the first time and blinks away the film that has blurred her gaze for so long. Forever.
It takes all of her strength, but she lets go of her death. And she takes hold of his hand.
He gives her a name and he loves her.
She lives.
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 606
Prompts: “The Ultimate Sacrifice”, writing in reverse, “Abstract by ignoring”
A/N: Written for week #3 at Brigits_flame. This is the advanced level; I hope all the prompts came through satisfactorily. I have a personal challenge of writing a theme with birds, so all my entries this month have that in common. This story has a dedication, which is a first for me. You know who you are. :)
She lives.
Is it happily ever after? Who can tell? But she lives, and that is enough for now. Happy comes later, perhaps, if she is lucky. And she is told that she has luck on her side now.
It is not supposed to end this way, with her life. Indeed, at the beginning of things this was not what she wanted. And she is a planner, so things go her way. Sometimes she is distracted by details, but research is her friend. She has looked into this, and she has only to pick a date. When, when … when is a good time to stop the swing of the pendulum? The exact moment lends itself more gravity than she has expected; there never does seem a good time to cut life short. No matter how she knits, a loose end unravels. Things are ever unfinished. The mess doesn't bother her, it is the not knowing. How would things turn out? Yet enough threads continuously unwind to numb her to the tangle of knots she holds in her hands. She has to make up her mind. Today. It would be today, a day with no importance at all. A day like any other would suit. She can be contrary this way sometimes. Is she wild underneath, after all?
She is not a dreamer. She sees the world as it is, in gradients of gray, endless sheets without color or depth. She doesn't believe in Fate, and she tells herself that magic is for the young. But when she meets him on the last day of her life, she cannot deny the … coincidence.
He sees her.
She has always stood behind, slid in shadows, held up mirrors to deflect. But he is patient, and he joins her in the dimness. He shows her that he dances in the dark, that he is unafraid of what he sees. He tips her face to the light and watches her. He does not flinch at the sight.
Where did he come from, this trickster? She does not trust herself to believe that such a thing is real. If she believes it, if she looks at what he offers her, then she must give up what she has always held so dear. She is not ready. She is in love only with her despair. She has no room in her heart for any other lover. She is afraid to tell him that he came too late.
Why did he have to reveal himself now? He hides a smile. She does not think she will ever understand him, but he does not wish her to. He is only here, now, asking nothing, asking everything, holding out his hand to her.
She is a bird trapped in the net of her life. She is beating her wings until they shatter into pieces because she wants to be free from the cords that bind, even unto the breaking of her world. He is the calm that slows her fevered heart, the force that turns her head to the sky, to look at clouds and wonder, to see blue again. He is the voice in the night that thrums in her veins. His are the words she treasures above all others. He is her dream. She is a dreamer. She wants. She needs. She awakens for the first time and blinks away the film that has blurred her gaze for so long. Forever.
It takes all of her strength, but she lets go of her death. And she takes hold of his hand.
He gives her a name and he loves her.
She lives.