A couple of unfinished small pieces
It's been a while. I haven't really been writing - so caught up with that bothersome thing called life - but here are two short pieces I wrote in January this year.
It's likely I wrote these when I was upset or high on emotions, and just needed that carthartic, emotional purge. Unfortunately that means they'll probably stay unfinished as the process of writing them had already achieved that goal.
***
10 January 2016
***
For the first time in a while, she thought of Sebastian. No, actually that was a lie. For the first time in the day, she thought of Sebastian. What was he up to; what was he doing, what was he thinking. He was so far away. He was royalty.
Risma remembered the moment she realised her wounded, exhausted invalid turned out to be the Crown Prince of Aterra, the country with whom Claysia had sworn to war. She remembered the moment when she also found him, face first in the snow, dying outside her and Rey’s small wooden hut somewhere far off on the other side of the world in Claysia.
She could almost laugh. How ordinary he had appeared back then. How simple he had seemed. Almost kind and caring. Was he really the same man who had helped her bury Rey, who had saved her when she snapped and had gone hurling herself into the unknown wilderness? It couldn’t be, could it? The same man who she saw that day, seated proudly on that magnificent horse, that heavy coronet above his forehead, staring ahead through a crowd of loyal Aterrans, with an expression of practised casual indifference. She soon learned it was a characteristic of royalty. He was too far away, and now too protected for her to confront and avenge her small town.
It had to be more than mere coincidence, surely. How was it that he had come back to her, helped her and spoke with her - pleasant, almost like equals - like friends, only for her to wake up in the middle of the night to realise her hut and whole town were aflame, and he nowhere to be found.
She nearly died again that night. When she awoke, her confusion and desperation for answers spurred her to gather herself and move. Always a survivor she managed, after months, to find herself in Aterra with a desire to find that disappearing soldier, and confront his betrayal. Yet that moment when she realised he was more than just an ordinary man who would have been sent home from battle to rehabilitate - something fell apart.
It was hopeless to demand answers from a King in waiting.
How could she ever hope for him to notice her again? To even allow her to speak or listen to her? For her to even say how dare he, for what he had done to Coal, for betraying a foreigner, an enemy, for pretending to have kindness? He could put her down with a wave of his hand.
***
---
23 January 2016
Summary: It all led up to this. This was what everyone wanted. Everyone except her.
---
In the end it always came back to Kael. She knew this, almost instinctively. That sharp stab of pain in her mind, her soul when she touched him on the arm - he was the answer to finally save them all. And the tears which coursed down her face uncontrollably when she looked up at his lifeless face told her everything she didn’t want to accept. She knew it would come to this, and her fingers trembled as she reached for the white string on his hand. It was so easy, all she had to do was remove it. She had prepared weeks for this. She had told herself she was ready, that she could do it - that she could also accept it. It was for the greater good, everyone said, and even she knew.
This was what everyone wanted. She had willingly let them lead her here, into this blackness - a world past the living, a world which no one was meant to see. At least not now. Why was she hesitating? She was kneeling, looking over at the body of a boy who she had only recently come to care for, and yet it felt like she had known him for her whole life. He had always been there even when he wasn’t. He had always helped, even when she didn’t accept it. He had cared her even when she had shunned him. She eyed the thin string that trailed from his fingers to through to the mass of the other bodies - so peaceful in their slumber - that they would lead to the hands of a mere man, one who was between worlds and trying to cheat the god’s defenses. Ashram had been doing it so well. He had hidden Kael so well. No one would have known, until Kael himself showed her. He couldn’t tell her, but he could show her. One last thing to save them all. One last thing to set him free.
Did he want to be free? She wondered. What did he want? He was not without feeling. She knew that. What did she want? Could it ever have been possible? She hated him just a little bit for that. That he had given her some hope, so that she had dared to dream. Perhaps he had felt the same way? Don’t be silly, she frowned. The dead do not feel. The dead have passed. And she would be no better than Ashram if she kept him here, and not him let go. It would be selfish. It would make every other selfless act and every sacrifice by so many others to have been made in vain. This was their last chance. She did not want this. But what other way was there?
She gazed again upon his face. His unmistakable features. They haunted her, even in her dreams when she chased him. So a part of her had known the answer all along. And when she caught up to him, he always had the same thing to say. Wake up. Yes, it had always been a dream. A blur - it was surreal.
---
It's likely I wrote these when I was upset or high on emotions, and just needed that carthartic, emotional purge. Unfortunately that means they'll probably stay unfinished as the process of writing them had already achieved that goal.
***
10 January 2016
***
For the first time in a while, she thought of Sebastian. No, actually that was a lie. For the first time in the day, she thought of Sebastian. What was he up to; what was he doing, what was he thinking. He was so far away. He was royalty.
Risma remembered the moment she realised her wounded, exhausted invalid turned out to be the Crown Prince of Aterra, the country with whom Claysia had sworn to war. She remembered the moment when she also found him, face first in the snow, dying outside her and Rey’s small wooden hut somewhere far off on the other side of the world in Claysia.
She could almost laugh. How ordinary he had appeared back then. How simple he had seemed. Almost kind and caring. Was he really the same man who had helped her bury Rey, who had saved her when she snapped and had gone hurling herself into the unknown wilderness? It couldn’t be, could it? The same man who she saw that day, seated proudly on that magnificent horse, that heavy coronet above his forehead, staring ahead through a crowd of loyal Aterrans, with an expression of practised casual indifference. She soon learned it was a characteristic of royalty. He was too far away, and now too protected for her to confront and avenge her small town.
It had to be more than mere coincidence, surely. How was it that he had come back to her, helped her and spoke with her - pleasant, almost like equals - like friends, only for her to wake up in the middle of the night to realise her hut and whole town were aflame, and he nowhere to be found.
She nearly died again that night. When she awoke, her confusion and desperation for answers spurred her to gather herself and move. Always a survivor she managed, after months, to find herself in Aterra with a desire to find that disappearing soldier, and confront his betrayal. Yet that moment when she realised he was more than just an ordinary man who would have been sent home from battle to rehabilitate - something fell apart.
It was hopeless to demand answers from a King in waiting.
How could she ever hope for him to notice her again? To even allow her to speak or listen to her? For her to even say how dare he, for what he had done to Coal, for betraying a foreigner, an enemy, for pretending to have kindness? He could put her down with a wave of his hand.
***
---
23 January 2016
Summary: It all led up to this. This was what everyone wanted. Everyone except her.
---
In the end it always came back to Kael. She knew this, almost instinctively. That sharp stab of pain in her mind, her soul when she touched him on the arm - he was the answer to finally save them all. And the tears which coursed down her face uncontrollably when she looked up at his lifeless face told her everything she didn’t want to accept. She knew it would come to this, and her fingers trembled as she reached for the white string on his hand. It was so easy, all she had to do was remove it. She had prepared weeks for this. She had told herself she was ready, that she could do it - that she could also accept it. It was for the greater good, everyone said, and even she knew.
This was what everyone wanted. She had willingly let them lead her here, into this blackness - a world past the living, a world which no one was meant to see. At least not now. Why was she hesitating? She was kneeling, looking over at the body of a boy who she had only recently come to care for, and yet it felt like she had known him for her whole life. He had always been there even when he wasn’t. He had always helped, even when she didn’t accept it. He had cared her even when she had shunned him. She eyed the thin string that trailed from his fingers to through to the mass of the other bodies - so peaceful in their slumber - that they would lead to the hands of a mere man, one who was between worlds and trying to cheat the god’s defenses. Ashram had been doing it so well. He had hidden Kael so well. No one would have known, until Kael himself showed her. He couldn’t tell her, but he could show her. One last thing to save them all. One last thing to set him free.
Did he want to be free? She wondered. What did he want? He was not without feeling. She knew that. What did she want? Could it ever have been possible? She hated him just a little bit for that. That he had given her some hope, so that she had dared to dream. Perhaps he had felt the same way? Don’t be silly, she frowned. The dead do not feel. The dead have passed. And she would be no better than Ashram if she kept him here, and not him let go. It would be selfish. It would make every other selfless act and every sacrifice by so many others to have been made in vain. This was their last chance. She did not want this. But what other way was there?
She gazed again upon his face. His unmistakable features. They haunted her, even in her dreams when she chased him. So a part of her had known the answer all along. And when she caught up to him, he always had the same thing to say. Wake up. Yes, it had always been a dream. A blur - it was surreal.
---