We were Dreamers once

[Sekot]

His face turned toward me and what I saw in those pair of eyes was emptiness. Bags were heavy beneath them, deepened purple circles shadowing the ice blue irises. His mouth opened and closed as he attempted speech. Frustrated, he turned his head, and his gaze, away from me. With trembling hands he reached forward toward the empty mirror. No reflection reached back. This was his place, his home, and I had foolishly removed him. Only for a time. But it was enough. He sought to return, to hide in the shadows on the other side. I wanted to apologize, to say some words that might comfort him. But nothing would have worked. Pale flesh, goosebumps, and chapped lips.


"Wait for me," is all that I could say.

He did not turn back. I caught the moment he paused, the slight retraction in the outstretched fingers. But he passed on through the barrier to a world I could not follow. He faded into the darkness as if it were a comfort to him. Maybe it was. His back turned to me he was the only reflection I never saw unless I beckoned for it. What he left in his wake was a similar sort of emptiness, one felt in relation to its absence. I looked down the hall, at all the other mirrors lining the walls and ceilings. I looked at the images that flickered in and out of view. Wait for me, for one day I may be able to save you. Don't leave me just yet, we still have time.

Those were the words I wanted to say but couldn't. The words he would not hear.

[Sekot]

He gazed at me, through golden eyes he watched. In that gaze I felt a pain bloom in my chest. The petals of its peculiar agony unfolded within me until it was all I could do to not burst and spill the spores of my screams all around the room. My feet had taken root and I dried underneath the sheer radiance of him. But like a cloud it passed. Like a cloud, the light was revealed behind it with a smile. Gentle, warm, and inviting but altogether alien on the age stricken face. A jester's mask.

I took a step forward, digging deep within the well of my despair. Like passing through water, the weight of my body fluctuated. My feet found it difficult to move, dragged backward by the outstretched hands of those jealous souls who had failed before. My target sat on his throne, the golden metal interlinked with his flesh. It melted into him and his veins glowed with unholy aura. With every inch closer I came, the more I felt as if a hundred whips cracked at my back. From the vaulted ceiling angels stared at me with eyes full of bile and hate. Painted on the ceiling, they appeared to move, or rather my mind began to swim. From their many lips I heard their fretful yell "Bow!".

Like an eternal void seeking to be filled I had my attention dragged back to him. So far away, upon an infinite amount of stairs, he stared at me from heaven. He reigned his judgment upon me. Indigo flowers for eyes. Two points in space, two binary stars. I faltered, slipped. I stretched out my arm and caught myself against the cold stone floor. I dribbled spit onto the floor, tasted blood as I bit my lip. Just a breath between the floor and my knee, just enough space for time to pass between. I raised my head and this time let loose a primal scream. A throaty roar that shook the walls on their foundations and turned the faces of the crowd that watched.

He opened his mouth and returned a banshee scream, a thousand wails of my past slaughters. He knew them all and in that small stretch of sound I heard within all their names. An urge to repent took over me, waves that crashed upon my sandcastle. I faltered once more and with a breath my knee touched stone. And then the other. I bowed my head. I closed my eyes.

[Sekot]

Power rippled off of him in waves. The air crackled and sparked. "There must only be two."

He opened his eyes, felt the cold air brushing against his exposed cheeks and forehead. It permeated his robe, through the thin layers of clothing that adorned his frail frame. The voice echoed within the expansive confines of the cathedral. What little light there was spilled through the ancient cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the dessicated floor. Slowly he stood, a swirl of dust kicked about him as he did so. With an intake of breath, he stilled the waves of energy and gathered his internal self. A storm brewed within him, itching to be released. "Usurper," the voice spoke again.

He turned, and there she was framed against the twilight sky in the large-arched doorway. The glittering rings that circled the planet caught her bald head in a halo effect, casting greens, reds and blues in every direction. Her piercing yellow eyes danced across the large distance between them. Silence fell, absent the noise of the crickets outside or the amphibians in the bogs there was a deafening quality. "You have grown too powerful!" she said again, breaking the trance-like stillness.

With the characteristic snap and hiss, her lightsaber was ignited. The slender blade of light glowed a harsh red against her alabaster skin. She readied herself, gripping the hilt with both hands. "My master," he whispered.

With a flick of his wrist the hilts of his own blades dropped into his hands. He affected a smile, knowing full well the destroyed mess of a mouth could not form a true one. The mask he wore across the lower half of his face felt heavy. A reminder of the last attempt. Mentally, he triggered the igniters in his weapons and the orange/yellow blades came to life. The hilts fit perfectly within his grip, their comforting touch a reminder of who he was, what he was. He felt a rush, alive. She charged.

A downward slash, full of power, was met with his crossed swords. The blades cracked and the air about them popped as it churned in agony. His hood fell back, revealing the large scar that went from left eye and ran back to left occipital lobe. His own wild, red eyes glistened wildly against the backdrop of the light from their weapons. She roared at him and he roared back. They disengaged, brandishing their weapons as they prepared another attack. This time he was the first, charging her but then leaping at the last minute above her. He twisted mid air, bringing both blades down. She parried both, waited for him to land and executed a pair of quick, brutish attacks. He danced away from each, quicker on his feet than she. "You've grown slow, Darth Terrrovex," his own voice sounded harsh and throaty, heavily modulated by synthetics.

"Silence, Darth Abominus. The sound of your voice disgusts me."

She lunged, he leaped backward then immediately forward. The space between them grew warm through their exertion. They came together once more, this time she pushed with the Force. He was sent backward, but through the Force he regained his balance and landed without harm. The storm within him burned, it ached and screamed at him. He gazed at her, saw her chest rise and fall as she gathered her own energy. He raised both hands just as she did, power ripping through every last nerve ending and muscle until it erupted through his flesh at the fingertips. He screamed, unable to hold back the expression of his pain. He reveled in it. Lightning snapped, like thousands of snakes it struck through the air. His blast met hers and together they formed a web of Force Lightning like so many ouroboros. He pushed harder, unlocking the seals that held back his anger. He dug deep, flinging open every door. He watched as his former master was wrapped in tendrils of nightmare, as it raked across her and her own ability faltered. She gritted her teeth. He lowered his hands. A cocoon of electricity surrounded her, biting her. He raised one hand, called upon the Force once more to close around her neck. Her snarls and yelps were cut short as she was lifted off the floor.

"No, it is your voice that disgusts me. So unworthy of the name Dark Lord of the Sith."

He drug the last word out as he imagined taking the last vestiges of life from her body. But instead she laughed. There was a hard, invisible punch delivered to his gut, and his concentration was broken. He was lifted into the air and thrown backward through the wall of the cathedral itself and out into the field beyond. He coughed, felt blood dripping from the sides of the mask. Terrrovex followed him outside, lightsaber tip dragging in the dirt behind her. Abominus attempted to call forth more lightning, but she was the quicker this time. Her blade was flung through the air. He just barely activated his sabers in time to block, but she was already upon him. Her attacks came quicker and harder, striking at his vulnerable spaces. He dodged and parried the best he could, but he knew he was being pushed back and his parries were becoming less effective. Her blade nipped at him, he felt the heat of it stab through his sides and chest as it grazed him. "I will not be beaten!" he roared.

She merely laughed. She punched the air, the Force acting as an extension and he was caught off guard. The power within him snarled and he nearly vomited. Fine. He would release himself. If only to have the last laugh. Hunched over, he gathered his breath and fought down the bile. She advanced, the hum of her blade coming nearer and nearer. Whispers were heard in his ear, his vision blurred. Images fluttered through his mind of so many possible futures and a past that relived itself over and over. He shut off his blades, they dropped from his slack fingers. Terrrorvex said something but his ears could no longer hear her.

She raised her blade to strike. His mind left him.

She brought the blade down.

He moved, his body feeling as if it were in water. But it was merely his attention that lagged. Her blade was caught in his bare hand. He was aware that the blade was hot. Very hot. Then the sensation was gone. He knew her eyes widened before he saw them. Knew her breath was stolen before she gasped. The light of her weapon dimmed. He felt the surge of power ripple through him, that was all he felt. It was all he was. Fury made manifest. The ground at his feet sparked and combusted. The grass wilted as it caught flame. Her blade died with a sputter. He waved his other hand and she was flung backward, back into the hole he had made previously. About him the air hissed. Lightning snapped from him, burned away his clothing. He gazed with false eyes upon the ruined temple and raised both arms. The earth shook and trembled, cracks erupted along the stone sides. The building collapsed, but that was not enough for Abominus. Even as he recognized what he had lost, he continued. The stone cracked further, the ground beneath it sinking under the sheer weight of the Force. Lightning wrapped around the stone as if alive, seeking prey buried below.

He lowered his arms, but the damage continued. The stones sank further until a hole had been made, a tomb. His hand ached. It lay limp at his side and he could move none of the fingers. He became aware of a breeze that pushed against him. The tongues of the grassland flames licked at his back as if they two wanted a piece of the fallen Sith. A black hole in the Force had been created. A vacuum. Above, the rings of the planet had been scattered, shattered and lay broken. Less a ring and now a band. How long would the planet last? Was she truly dead?

He had little energy left to discover the answer to either question.

[Sekot]

He gasped for breath, felt it choke him as it fell down his throat. He knelt in supplication, hands clasped before him. His heart raced, he began to hyperventilate. Fear seeped through the cracks, twisted between the empty places and dug in deep. His hands twitched and he screamed. He shut his eyes tight, he gripped his shirt and pulled it away as his chest erupted in flame. He bared his teeth against the rage that roared from within, his yell terrifying and terrified.

"I had come so far!" he screamed into the empty room. "Why do I have to relapse now?"

Lightning arced from the rounded ceiling and danced its many fingers against the ground around him. It illuminated only a few feet, beyond that merely an impenetrable curtain that served to offer up nothing positive or negative. He placed his hands against the stone of the floor, calmed by the icy cold that curled up his fingertips and arms. His insides ached with some primal force, a hunger that could not be satiated, a disease that flowered in every last vessel.

as I lay here half asleep I think of times. I think of particular places and people. I see so many faces flashing before my face, see so many stories written amongst the infinite stars. I want to trace them with my finger, to find the lines and inbetween spaces, to recreate and warp their histories into something larger. A tapestry suited for gods made of human things. My hubris will destroy me.

He ran his hands through the thick grass, the sharp edges of the thin fronds cutting small slivers into his skin. The bipolar stars above danced about one another, pulling at one another and sapping the others' energy. They danced amongst the stars and cast their yellow-blue light upon his world. He imagined they whispered stories to one another of all the adventures they'd like to take, stories about the people they watched over and cared for, and how much they loved one another.

They held their hands out toward one another, grasped them and squeezed tight. Together they were pulled close, their chests touching and their breath shared between them. A soft hand brushed against a soft cheek. One grasping the back of the others head, hands placed against chests and hips. No words exchanged past lips except messages of a more physical short. Shared between them in those moments were lost memories, stories of past lives, and knowledge of future events. Their destiny came together, and as quickly as it all started it fell apart. They parted, heading toward those same futures. They became a part of the memory they shared.

Anger gripped him like hot metal, chains wrought from hell wrapped around his small frame. They weakened him, he found it difficult to rise. Bowed and broken he sobbed against the floor. Pressing his head into his hands he shut his eyes against the world, closed his ears against the world, and shut his mouth against it all.

[Sekot]

He was an abject dragon, a storied monster. She was a lusty harlot, a damsel of distress. Together they whispered at the cracks in the walls. From their miseries were born the monarch flies, the peasantry butterflies. The world went alight with the flames of desire, cacophonies of lovers dancing in the streets underneath kissing lights.

[Sekot]

You could love me forever, and I'd still be here. You could whisper in my ear all your dreams, your wishes, your desires, and I would still sit here in the dark. The wicked crown grows too heavy, my head to full of pride. And so we bow, together, in reverence of some long forgotten deity. We begin the ritual, chanting the ancient words that had lost all meaning. An empty thing, a practice we detested. But all throughout I heard your heart as it beat within your chest, I heard your breath between words and I heard the crackle of your ligaments against bone. I looked upon you in the radiance of the candlelight, watched as the shadows danced across your cheekbones and underneath your brow. Gentle lover, dearest friend, why can I not forget you?

The angels forsook the halls of the kings. They took their loyal hosts and were whisked away to some far off palace where the sun never fell. They left us underneath the light of the cerulean moon as it came closer, as it bore down upon the roof of the world. As we looked up, we saw others looking down, reaching out for us. It was then the fissures broke, the sky opened and we were witness to the world's mirror, witness to our own gaze. Horrified, we hid.

[Sekot]

Scattering scampering crawling between the halls with no roofs
we watch and gather, we walk with heads down and heads raised.
We walk with smiles and stares, with earbuds in and
hands in our jacket pockets.

Clamoring clashing slithering lines of metal boxes flashing
lights and sounds in miles of eternal gridlocks. Climbing
bridges that rise to scrape the sky and fall like undulating
beasts. Tails, veins that lead back to the center where the
blood never stops flowing and the heart is always pumping.

We speak in tongues here in Babylon, we have not one
tower but thousands of such metallic talons. Glistening in
nighttime skies we shine as radiant webs and holy edifices.
Sacrificing our sanity we wait in lines to enter sacred spaces
where music thumps in foreign feeling and we drink to our
gods.

I cannot understand the allure of the open expanse,
to deny the closeness of the hustle and bustle of
eternal wonderlands. The air itself breathes us in
breathes us out and we are lost creatures. Lost
in the sense that maybe we have no where to
find. There is only us in this world in the life
constructed. The vast absurdity of humanity
combined in one giant artificial mime of that
which beats within. Beauty in the faces turned
inward as they briskly outmaneuver time, beauty
in faces lined up waiting at the bar where
desire is our only currency.

Tingling power ripples through my body as I move in these spaces, as I look at the old bricks lying next to shiny metal beams. As I glance at the graffiti I am offered stories of adventure and excitement. We are never alone in this world, we social things. We live and breathe a language that was built amongst us, within these sacred grounds of light and terror.

[Sekot]

He grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward, his grip painful and assured. As the immediate pain subsided, my mind slowly came to terms with the closeness of our bodies, of the feel of his breath against my face. I turned away, shutting my eyes against what was happening in some weird attempt to reverse the dream I was so sure I was in. He released my wrist and my arm fell to my side, but he wasn't finished. Instead, his arms wrapped around my side and I felt his hands against my back, pushing me closer. Our chests touched, the flatness of his stomach against mine, our legs intertwined. He was bigger than me, broader than me, and his presence seemed to surround me completely like a comforting blanket. Slowly I opened my eyes and the world appeared so much more vibrant. The green of the walls appeared to glow radioactively, the breeze rushing between the open window cooled my blushing skin as if it were the first breeze I had ever felt. I could feel his heart racing, a weird sensation that caused me to doubt where my own heart had run off to. As if we shared the same organ, our blood mixing together between us. He removed a hand and I desperately wanted it to return, but he grabbed my chin with it and turned my head back to face him. His hazel eyes stared into mine and I felt safe looking into them.

"Who are you?" he asked me.

"I..." I choked on my words.

His thin eyebrows furrowed together, the glint from his stare gone. The pupils constricted in suspicion. I moved my lips, my jaw, but no words came out. I didn't know. This question was vital to my existence. In the span of these few seconds, I could already feel him slipping away. He pursed his lips and I felt his grip lessen. His heartbeat faded, replaced with only my own. Suddenly I felt drained, weak. My knees buckled. He took a step back. "What do you want?" he asked me, his voice heavy as the grave.

I smiled, straightened my shoulders. My own pupils dilated even further, something I thought impossible. I felt blood running through my ears, heard it. The breeze had died and the walls looked so dull. I raised my chin arrogantly, "I am nothing. I will be nothing."

He crossed his big arms across his chest. Unsatisfied, clearly. "Who needs to choose?" I continued. "I'll be whoever I am and if you don't like it..."

I smiled.

Flipped him the bird.

And then walked away.

[Sekot]

His fingers tapped against the bar top, ripples of color rolling outward with each tap of his digits. They mixed together violently, erupting into small explosions of color before fading into the white nothingness of the rest of the surface. He stared at each ripple, watched it grow until it met its end. Breathing loudly out of his nose he picked up the glass next to him and drained it of its contents. The thick, mucous-y liquid ran down his throat, sending waves of pleasure through his body as it did so. His tongue tingled, his throat ached at the absence of its passing, and his stomach churned as it sat there. The feeling passed after a few seconds as he contemplated purchasing another drink. He sat the glass on the counter, entranced briefly by the vibrant waves, then deliberately turned away from it.

The bar itself was devoid of patrons. Only a handful sat in dark corners or sat nearby, themselves drowning in seas of temporary pleasure. Music played ambiently, quietly. Jazz without the soul. He pushed himself off of his chair, his feet aching as he placed his weight upon them. Without thinking, he wound his way between the scattered seats and found the exit. Stepping outside, he had to raise a hand to shield himself from the sharp glare of the halogen beams. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the brightness, but he continued moving. He dodged other pedestrians just barely by the sight of their approaching feet. He received more than a few comments under breaths that he should watch where he was going. His eyes finally adjusted and he lowered his hand. Now it didn't seem so bright, just enough to see where he was going and who was in front of him. But after the impenetrable darkness of the bar except for the occasional aurora burst, this was like walking into a star.

He turned his head as he thought about them, those twinkling points of chaotic light that tore holes into the more organized background fabric of space. The window next to him opened up a view of the sprawling megalopolis, of the countless towers and spires that rose in random patterns. Artificial hills crested in the distance, mountains of steel on steel. Beyond them the darkness waited, twinkling points of light stared back. Not for the last time, he wondered what it would like look from out there, all of this. How absurd it must be for an entire world to be covered in one giant city.

Turning from the window, he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued onward. These little trips topside had to stop. Nothing good could come from them, not when he was as wanted as he was. It was a miracle no hardhats had come crashing his little one-man party. The cams must not work so well at this level. Best not to risk it though. As he continued, the crowds thinned until there was only a passerby every few hundred feet. Their clothes became more ragged, more muted. He felt sorry for them, almost. They had a choice, of course. They could stay here, hoping to make their way higher up the ladder to another level. Or they could come with him into the depths of the world. They were scared, too many bedtime stories of monsters and mayhem. If only they knew, he wondered.

He stopped at the elevator that would take him below. No one stood on guard like they did for those that went above. No one cared if you went down, most of the time you never came back anyway. And those that did weren't going any higher, so what was the harm? Free access. 'Free'. Nothing was free. The doors slid open as he approached and he stepped in. The doors slid shut, creaking with age. The lights flickered then went out to cast him into utter opacity. The elevator body lurched and heaved as it moved. And slowly he descended along the mysterious paths the elevators took.

[Sekot]

He held my hand as I stared into the candle's flickering flame. Seated on the table before me, its pale wax body appeared to glow against the orange light of the fire. I wanted to snuff it out, to cease its existence. I felt his hand squeeze mine, the clammy coldness of his palm pressed against mine. My face twitched, my hand jerked slightly, but he refused to let it go. I felt the weight of the bed shift as he moved closer to me, the sheets shuffling off of my lap. I felt his shoulder pressed against mine, the warmth of his body invading my personal space. He rested his head on my chest as I leaned back to rest against the wall. His hair was soft. I lifted my free hand and ran my fingers through it, comforted by the delicateness of it. He let out a contented sigh.

I broke my gaze with the candle and looked down. Brown hairs tickled my nose. Leaning forward I lightly kissed his crown. He chuckled and shifted until his head rested in my lap. I looked down at him as he looked up at me and together we shared a smile. My finger traced his lips, ran down his chin and up his jaw to the cheekbone. It ran its way to his nose and up the bridge and across the brow. He placed our intertwined hands on his chest, rested it there as he breathed.

His eyes opened and the elevator lurched into action. He had done it again. Dreaming never did anyone any good.

[Sekot]

He stepped past the threshold and out onto the open roof. He was struck by the stillness of the atmosphere around him, now so very aware of the lack of air recyclers constantly pulling at him. It was quiet here, no hum or chatter, no white noise. Deafening. But still just loud enough that he could not hear the pulse in his ears, truly he heard nothing. His vision adjusted to the abnormal brightness, colors taking focus against the reflections of windows and steel. In the far distance spun the twin suns, their ill-fated dance routine played out against the backdrop of black with all the stars as their audience. Above him hovered the planet they were captured by, the broiling clouds churning across it at speeds unimaginable. It gave off its own light, a dull pulsating brown-orange that mingled oddly with the creamy blue of the binary. Everything was at once warm and cold, none of it inviting.

He took another step, aware that his jaw was hanging open. He didn't care to close it. He turned and in every direction stretched miles of construction. Artifice that glistened and glittered with all the decadence of countless kings and queens. A thousand crowns resting upon a weary head. He turned and smiled widely, the first genuine smile he had to offer in a long time. He raised his hand and offered it to his companion who stood back, behind the doorway he had exited from. "What are you afraid of?" he asked, his voice nonexistent.

His meaning crossed the quiet space between them somehow, and she shook her head. He turned and pointed to the edge of the rooftop. "Come," he beckoned.

Still she refused. Her eyes were wide and they darted toward the landscape and back to him. Her thin fingers clung to the frame of the exit. Still smiling, he lowered his hand and turned his back to her. He continued forward, his heart racing. The edge got closer, but nothing rose up to stop him. When he did reach the end, he looked down. The tower he stood upon stretched for what looked like miles until it disappeared into darkness. A thick blanket of blankness that promised no end. Every nearby building faded into the same inky sea. Vaguely he was aware that someone was down there, that there was merely more building on top of structure. And, eventually, there was ground.

He sat, allowing his feet to dangle off the edge. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the natural light, no filter or barrier between him and it. He felt a presence beside him and his companion took a seat next to him. She immediately grabbed his hand and held tightly, shaking. He let her place his hand in her lap, hoping it offered some comfort.

[Sekot]

Never shut your eyes, he commanded.
Once upon a time.
And I listened and I grew old...
Waiting. Waiting
for another once upon
where he would return. But such times never
come again. And I grew
old.

Pauses in time
marked by the passing
of worms in the grass. Gentle lover
dearest whispers in the wind
pass by me. Beauty caught
in the golden eyes
of dead corn
leaves.

And maybe as we
held hands on this
rooftop
crown we could tell
each other stories
to smile. And maybe
we would wrap
robes
of gold
and auburn. As your hair
twists
in my dreams I
place the flowers upon your
royal
grave.

I stepped into the frigid waters of the ivy green sea. It lapped up my calves and cooled my legs. My chest burned, my head ached. I looked behind me and saw him standing where sand met grass. He refused to step any farther, just stood with his hands in his pockets. The cool summer night's breeze rustled through his chestnut hair, bangs fluttering past eyes that had grown dark in the dying light. He appeared to almost glow, the dying embers of sunlight catching his white linen shirt and shining through. I called out to him, forced a smile, but he returned none of it. I found myself stepping backward, deeper into the cold waters.

A part of me wanted to return.

As the final light slipped beneath the far off horizon, his glow dissipated and his face became ashen. Midnight blue met cerulean green and together the light danced in the sky. Neither moved, letting the advance of the stars punctuate the passing of the minutes. Firelight in the distance, campfires starting along the beach. He looked so different from what I remembered.

I felt the water at my knees warm. My heart cooled, slowed its rapid pace. A wave came and I let my fingers drag in it, watched as a trail of neon violet light traced a line down the back of the wave's crest. Around me the ocean began to glow in harmony with the first. As the night sky was swallowed by midnight, as the stars slowly burned into place, the water reflected the daylight sky. I looked back to the beach and all I saw was a shadow where had been, a formless thing that billowed and swam at the edge.

It undulated, pulsed like ripples in a lake. It shimmered like air over desert sand. It beat like a drum.

Alive.

The water rose up. I felt it at my back, across my shoulders. It dipped down around my chest and soon I was pulled under.

[Sekot]

His head tilted backward, his lids closing across his eyes. Fatigue sipped into his mind and wrapped itself around his soul, weighing him down. He slipped under the gentle waves of half-sleep, a state where dreams walked and nightmares ran. He felt the cool summer breeze wash over him like waves of a spectral ocean. Above him the watchful eyes of distant souls held stoic watch, not just over him but of all those wandering souls.

All sounds faded into the background. What was left was the silence and the storm. His fingers twitched, plucked at invisible strings that pulled at the churning cloud cover and brought forth the music of the squeamish damned. Amongst the cathedrals played a chorus of voices that responded in kind and sang in geometric patterns.

He was running through the street. His feet tread lightly upon the still warm asphalt. Water drizzled from above, echoing his footfalls in a rattatat tat. Beside him the buildings became blurs. Beside him the walls crumbled like sand castles. The road before him stretched out beyond the rolling humpback hills, beyond the thousand fingered trees. The grass crackled as it hungered for blood sacrifice. He ran. Quick. And soon all of it was behind him.

All that stood before was a horizon that spun away. A night sky that glowed in rainbow hues. Their words were spoken by the birds that flailed in cycles of tumbles and plummets and rocketing rises. He hunched over, hands on his knees, and gasped for breath. The world was spinning out of control, rotating on gyres and axes it was never meant to. Disoriented, he fought back the urge to vomit. Determined, he flex his jawed and clenched his teeth. Disgusted, bile rose into his mouth and he tasted the sweetly bitter acid on his tongue. Delighted, he felt the universe slow to a gentle stop.

A kingdom stretched before him. A towering castle with spires that burned and raged stretched upward. Upon the cliff he stood, at the edge he could peer down and see the labyrinthine passages that led to the holy gate. Gold glistened in bonfires. People danced. They celebrated. They clapped and cheered. There it was on the wind, a stench of sickly sweet sort. Rot.

He opened his eyes. Slowly. His body ached and groaned as he forced it into action. He rose from his position in the damp grass. He shivered. The distant sky began to burn, to glow in soft blue hues. The castle stood as a silent sentinel, silhouetted against the vast ocean surface that had begun to glitter in anticipation. The golden gates had lost their sheen, had been shut and locked. The labyrinth walls had crumbled and aged into nothing. But still he saw him upon the tallest tower staring out at the kingdom they commanded. The pair of them meeting at a crossroads.

He turned from it, allowed himself to show it his back. His vision clouded, the road ahead faded, and the trees lost their rustle. All that was known hesitated. Collective memory faltered on the chopping block and began to hemorrhage. O sweet gentle lovers, listen quietly to the cries of the child. Upon our words we have set fire to our own sacrificial pyre. They know not what they say, an honesty we had long since forgotten. Forgive us our sins. What good it will do us now.

He took a step into the grey. Allowed it to baptize him. And he and the world and the tower and the man that surveyed it all faded.

[Sekot]

And the Beast roared, its hot agonizing breath setting fire to their souls. Lights flickered and flashed and the quiet soul stood at the end of the hall staring through hollow sockets.

It screamed in the distance, let loose a graveling howl. Birds took flight, churning in great spiral clouds. Fire rained from the sky, careening through and smashing hard into the molten dirt. Like miniature meteors those birds caught flame and tumbled downward.

The tornado came to life, spreading outward and contracting in a manner akin to breath. Arms rippled outward in horizontal lines, seeking something it had long ago lost. And they hid in their homes, but it sought them out. It snuck in through the glass and the walls. Ripped them apart. And it crept into their basements, and stole their screams.

What are you afraid of?

What do we do when we die? What is there ever to do? Will I be awake as I lie in my grave, as I feel myself rot? Will I be able to count the infinite days into the great eternal hellfire? Or will I simply forget it all and fade away into a bleak nothing where nothing is not even a thing?

Life is beautiful. Life is absurd. And gentle. Even amongst the political, amongst the individual and the social, meaning begets meaning and we live as complex web creatures.

Gentle child's tears fall
upon hardened soil new
leaves grow as old grandmothers.

What are you afraid
of that keeps you
here locked until
golden gates open.

That maybe I did
waste some years
but maybe I did
live as I could
here
where no one lived.

Gentle butterflies
live as memory
eternally captured
in instagram pictures.
Filters run
as reflections
of no man's
life. But not
everything
has meaning.
Sometimes
we are
absurd.

[Sekot]

It rocked its head to the side, feathers rising and flaring outward in a giant fan. Each individual part glimmered with silvers and rouge. A single hiss escaped from between its bared teeth. A long drawn out pressing of warm air that washed across his nose and made him shut his eyes. Four emerald eyes glowed within their ivory sockets. Assessing.

It took a step back and rose to its full height. The slender bird-face retracted and pulled backward. The sinewy neck covered in rigid golden scales twitched and spasmed. Electricity arced from between the spaces in the scales, static cling gathered about it like a storm gathered on a horizon. All at once its seven wings stretched open wide, and it fell back further into the void of space. Each wing held upon it a different mark, ancient runes that had long since lost any translation. The feathers and skin were black as coal and wide as mountains. They folded in and extended out mimicing the flap of a true bird's wings, but it only ceased its spiraling backward.

Upon its great chest, four hearts were exposed. They pumped rubies into the body cavity, glittering diamonds that caught the light of the planet behind him. Stretching out their five arms, it appeared to be grasping for him. Or, rather, the world he came from. It opened its mouth and from it came a haunting call. It resonated in his chest, in his skull, and made him think of empty graveyards. He turned his head, slowly, around. The light had already begun to fade, to disappear into the background noise. The amber grassy surface had become pallid. The sheen of atmosphere was pulled away to leave the surface exposed. Cracks appeared on the surface, cracks that stretched and stretched.

It collapsed then, before him. Inward. Compressed by so many hands, it became so very tiny. He turned to look back the beast. It grinned back at him.