|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Decent: Pt IV: SleepSleep, sleep child, sleep,
The more you sleep the less you weep
Close your eyes, forget the day
Let your worries melt away.
The darkness comes, you understand,
Every night to transcend the land.
The darkness comes, not so you may fear,
The darkness comes so you may understand. . .
The sleep I rocked into was a strange type of sleep. It was a fearful sleep; a dazed, hazy, and almost happy sleep. A sleep that brought back my self-conscience, brought back the silly, senseless fear. Fear of the dark. Fear of being alone. Such senseless little fears; "old-world" fears, as I had began to refer to them. But strangely enough, they brought another fear with them in that deep, almost corpse-like sleep; they brought me the fear of sleeping alone in this new, broken world. After all of the starving nights that I had crawled under some heap of rubble in the wastelandic nights that chilled me to the bone, that froze me in a half-dead state where I lay
Decent: Pt III: PrecursorI remember the world as it was; before the war. I never had a reason to care for anything except my own future. Nothing else in the world quite mattered yet; I couldn't understand politics,I didn't know why things became so expensive, then suddenly became cheap again, I couldn't comprehend just why my parents always complained about not having enough money; we had a roof over our heads, water in the sinks and showers, and enough electricity for me to watch Tom and Jerry after school when I got home. However, my condition didn't make things any easier.
By the time I reached middle school, I dearly felt sorry for my parents, having to put up with that, though the older i got, the more subdued my condition seemed to become. But on the off occasion that did bubble to the surface again, my fits were violent.. My medications also helped. . . every now and again. People used to think I was normal, too, until they found out about my condition,
Decent: Part II: The SaviorThe moment my eyes had shut, I awaited the death that was certain to take me. I didn't know how much longer I would go without food or water. I was sure death was working a cold finger down my spine; taking his time and making an endearment of my youthful flesh. I could almost hear the cold whispers in my ear; "ah dear, so young, so young! What a sweet day it is when I deliver unto the flesh so young! I followed you out there, you know," I could hear him taunt. "Out in the ashes of your friends, and family, hopelessly wandering. NO food, and little water; Dear, how long did you think you would last out there?"
I could fell a smile drawing itsself across my face. "Take me then,: I swore aloud. "Make of me your lover, for I embrace you, Death!"
That was when I heard the footsteps, so distant at first, drawing nearer with every quickened step. In my state of mid, I believed it to be Death coming in to take me.
I heard someone kneel beside me and there was fidgeting, and then I fe
Descent: Part I: The PinnacleThe descent began after the war. For both him and I. We didn't know it at the time, but with the twisted way that fate works, how could we have, the way the world was then? The more I look back on it now, the more I wish we hadn't crossed paths; the more I wish he would have left that abandoned child amongst the city rubble to die; to starve out on her own and become just another body lying amongst the cold, grey world. Instead, he took pity on this bawling child. And because of the way we met, I don't want to believe everything was the result of maligned stars. However, I don't believe that him coming to my aid in my dearest time of need was an act of gods (or any deity), either; merely a chance act, at most, if that.
After the war, it was hard to believe there was anyone left at all. Thirty-eight days after I dug myself out of the wood, concrete, and ashen remains of a building that collapsed on top of me wh
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
Keep in Touch!