LJI Week 13: Fan Death
I remember the day that Avalon closed to me forever.
I'm not sure which reaction hit me first: my heart screaming to get out of my chest, my ears ringing to shut out the words, my eyes wishing I'd never read those words. My soul, crushed on the floor that my guide, my light was not just diminished, not tarnished, but evil.
That she had done to others what had been done to me. When she was my strength. How could her words lift me so high when she brought people like my so low?
I remember the day I discovered Avalon. I was familiar with the myth, but never from a woman's point of view. I got it for Christmas and devoured it in a weekend where I didn't leave my room except for meals and Mass on Sunday (which I met with an inward sneer. The fools). I quickly loaned it to my best friend and it created another world for us, of "what ifs" and "just imagines." We were a coven of two, Sisters of Avalon, desperately searching for the Godess and a way out of our hopeless, humdrum lives.
I remember the day I rediscovered Avalon We've found each other in a small booth in a street fair. We've discovered each other as mothers and the priestesses of our own households. The humdrum was now joy. We talked about sharing the words that had moved us, taught us, changed our lives....with our own children.
I remember the day I forced myself to read page after page of court documents. Everything. Stopping only to vomit and take the occasional slug of vodka.
I remember the day I lit that match. I never wanted to light a book on fire.
I remember the day I watched the pages curl and reach upward, enclosing me in a fine ash.
And the mists closed to me forever.
I'm not sure which reaction hit me first: my heart screaming to get out of my chest, my ears ringing to shut out the words, my eyes wishing I'd never read those words. My soul, crushed on the floor that my guide, my light was not just diminished, not tarnished, but evil.
That she had done to others what had been done to me. When she was my strength. How could her words lift me so high when she brought people like my so low?
I remember the day I discovered Avalon. I was familiar with the myth, but never from a woman's point of view. I got it for Christmas and devoured it in a weekend where I didn't leave my room except for meals and Mass on Sunday (which I met with an inward sneer. The fools). I quickly loaned it to my best friend and it created another world for us, of "what ifs" and "just imagines." We were a coven of two, Sisters of Avalon, desperately searching for the Godess and a way out of our hopeless, humdrum lives.
I remember the day I rediscovered Avalon We've found each other in a small booth in a street fair. We've discovered each other as mothers and the priestesses of our own households. The humdrum was now joy. We talked about sharing the words that had moved us, taught us, changed our lives....with our own children.
I remember the day I forced myself to read page after page of court documents. Everything. Stopping only to vomit and take the occasional slug of vodka.
I remember the day I lit that match. I never wanted to light a book on fire.
I remember the day I watched the pages curl and reach upward, enclosing me in a fine ash.
And the mists closed to me forever.