He waits. The shards of glass have glittered like snow on the white carpet for five months now; he steps around them without thought as he paces. Sometimes he still purposefully treads on one to feel the bright, sharp pain travel up through his foot, to leave a few more bloodstains in the wreckage. He hasn’t even bothered to replace the shattered glass tumblers, instead drinking his liquor out of a coffee mug or straight from the bottle. He’s stopped bothering with an ash tray, too, and the cigarette butts leave little burn marks where they fall from idle hands. He doesn’t care. The one he loves will return to him, he is certain of this despite their parting words, the broken glass and passing months. The one he loves will return to him and so he must be here, cleansed by his penitence and proven faithful by his stasis. So, he waits.
walk barefoot in the grass
sit at the base of a tree
lay down in the fallen leaves
dig a hole in the soft earth
crawl in and cover yourself
die and decay and dissolve
be plant food
Love lies at the end of a knife blade, the culmination of all you ever wanted to share with your beloved, beautiful red pain blossoming up around that sweet spot just below the sternum, and finally he sees the world you’ve made for him, for you both, finally he understands the language your love speaks in pain and punishment and the patience to lead him inexorably to this moment of final, total clarity, his surrender in your arms the last step in the dance of your own design, and you will be called madmen but that is because only you can see the beauty in a love this red.
Betrayed and behind enemy lines, Lucifer flees. As she traces a low arc across the land toward inevitable impact, she harnesses what remains of her cataclysmic power to foil her pursuers. Mountainsides shake as the land buckles, thrusting great shards of rock into the sky; rivers crash and roar as their beds rise, fall, shatter; whole forests fly through the air with the force of a volcanic eruption. All chaos swallows the rebel angel’s wake, buying her precious time to outfly Heaven’s host. To be caught is to be tortured and killed. To be caught is to be undone, unmade, to become nothing again. Just dust. Ash. She cannot let them catch her.
The price of her lead is high, though, and Lucifer’s battered body cannot run forever on fear and fury. Too soon she feels the earth fighting against her commands, gravity drawing her downward with increasing speed. With a last desperate grasp at control, Lucifer tries to slow and steer her descent – and tumbles into unconsciousness as pain roars up inside her. Oblivion is a small mercy; she does not experience the bone-shattering impact, nor how the ground scrapes off her skin as her limp body tumbles to a stop.
She revives sometime later, if being awash in agony and disorientation can be called reviving. Despite the grind of broken bones, Lucifer manages to push herself into a kneeling position, swaying dizzily as she surveys her crash site. When she realizes where she is, some idle part of her wishes the impact had killed her. She is in No Man’s Land, a wasteland of corpses and broken armor between the fronts of Heaven and Hell. She can look in any direction and see the dead – angels, demons, even humans who got too close. If she stood, craned her neck, she might easily recognize many comrades.
It doesn’t matter; she doesn’t have the strength to stand. She doesn’t have the strength to do anything. She is bone tired, soul tired, and all she can do is hug her arms around her aching chest and cry. What is the point of all this? she screams internally. Why was this your great plan, and why did it require scapegoats like me? Why did it require rebellion and battle? I didn’t ask for free will – you gave it to me, to all of us! How could you expect us to surrender it without a fight? You created me! You made me a weapon and placed the seed of doubt in my breast! How can you blame me and my kind for refusing the very yoke you created us to abhor? Why did you make us just to punish us?!
Lucifer’s tears have stopped. Her trembling ceases. When she feels the presence vanish, she opens her eyes and slowly uncurls from her knot of pain. She takes a deep breath, then grits her teeth and pushes herself to her feet.
[More details about my DnD character Rem’r, adorable tiefling and Best Professor Ever!!!]
- Rem’r has three-toed feet (think the show Gargoyles), along with pointy teeth and nails.
- Her tail is plain (meaning no spikes or anything) and swishes back and forth when she’s highly emotional (so…. like all the time).
- Her favorite food is chocolate-covered coffee beans and she lives off them when trying to meet deadlines.
- She tends to stay up all night and only sleep in brief naps during the day, or whenever her body forces her to.
- She might have a caffeine addiction…
- Her clothing is normal for a ranger type: Linen shirt, pants, no shoes (obviously), bracers, elven armor and cloak, etc [it’ll be color coded to her university’s colors, I just can’t decide what they are yet].
- Speaking of her university, they have her on “extended sabbatical” because she comes from a very wealthy and influential family and they’re afraid to fire her.
- Speaking of which, also, she’s either loved or hated by her students – loved by the passionate ones who don’t mind listening to a fascinating but rambling lecture which won’t be on the test; hated by the students who can’t stand rambling lectures or trying to follow erratic trains of thought because all they want to do is learn what will be on the test.
- All of her written correspondences contain a crap!! ton!! of exclamation points!!!!!
- She sometimes hangs stuff from her horns that she needs quick access to, such as a magnifying glass, and sticks writing implements in her hair.
- I don’t know what kind of queer she is, but I think she gets flustered around pretty girls.
- She hails from Hellas, a land with an environment and culture similar to the ancient Mediterranean. Her parents own a very nice villa there and move in the highest social circles.
- Fun fact: fellow party member and pirate extraordinaire, Tarcella the halfling, also grew up in the Hellas area and the two knew each other as children.
- Stuff in her pack: lots of half melted candle stubs, charcoal (from Tarcella, cause they’re BFFs), waterproof matches, compass, chocolate covered coffee beans, random crystals and rocks (one of which is from a witch turned to stone by a basilisk named Eli), pencils, quills and ink, a mysterious glass orb, several notepads and loose sheets of paper, like at least 5 books, empty potion bottles, some stuff she’s definitely forgotten about completely, a cursed half-orc fingerbone, a sample of some creepy tree mold, her official university documents, and clothes I guess.
- Weapons: Rock hammer, ice pick, silver dagger, longbow
- She is very pro-animal, especially those that she feels are wrongly maligned (like basilisks).
- She’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, but is a very nice drunk
- She’s an overachiever with an approval complex
- She really wants to be friends with Never [our nonbinary dragonborn [aka my girlfriend] but she has no understanding of introversion and therefore no idea that she’s very loud and very overwhelming.
- She recently obtained a Qualls Feather Token, which can turn into a giant bird (specifically a giant budgie) with the obedience of a golem. You can bet she has that bird out like 24/7, not for any reason other than it’s her giant bird friend. Name TBD.
“Ghosts Appear and Fade Away”
iPod gathers dust
the absence of long gone friends
haunts its graveyard songs
“Finding him won’t change anything.”
verb; gerund or present participle: finding
- discover or perceive by chance or unexpectedly.
- recognize or discover (something) to be present.
- (of a thing) reach or arrive at, either of its own accord or without the human agent being known.
reach the understanding or conscience of (someone).
Okay, I get it; I’m asking too many questions. I need to back down. I need to shut up. I need to be thankful for what I know and stop asking for more. Let some truths lie. Accept the unknown unknown.