(Sept) Prompt #1 - Weightless

[Kiki]

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The first prompt of September is the word, weightless.

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If you have any questions about how to participate in this event,
please visit the rules (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=63004) thread or PM me (http://role-player.net/forum/member.php?u=42034).

Happy writing!

[~N~]

And I'm free! Free fallin'... (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lWJXDG2i0A)

The sky was as clear as azure crystal, with only the illumination and warmth of the sun's golden rays upon my back and a light breeze in my hair. I've never felt so free in my life, lifted up upon invisible currents that only feathers can feel.

"Come back down here!" Hehehe... The old man. Maybe spending two many years upon the earth anchors your soul to it, like two old married people who stay together simply because they've been together for so long. Long past the point of any vitality between them; the relationship one of necessity and habit now. Not even a marriage of convenience, for there is little that is convenient about aging. Perhaps that's why so many stoop in their later years... the long courtship with gravity will bow even the strongest to the dirt.

But gravity had no dirt on me. His voice barely carries this far, and with a simple turn, I rise higher upon these wings and feel the willing breeze carry me like an angel out over the sparkling blue waves below me. Looking at it from the ground, where all is labor and dirt, you'd never know the weightlessness you feel when you've taken wing and spread yourself out like a kite for the winds themselves to lift you up off the soil and carry you away to a place where nothing and no one can reach you. How heavy, and how tedious all my years upon the earth seem now.

The ancients were wrong: the sky needs nothing to hold it up. It's the pawing, grabbing, heavy weight of the dragging earth that keeps us upon the ground; that makes lumbering Atluses of us all, trudging upon the footpaths of our lives. No runner gets so high as this. Another turn and I rise even further, feeling the liberation and warmth upon my back, as the ripples in the Aegean get closer together, looking like soft waves in silk upon a window breeze, except slower. Everything is slower from up here. Time stands apart in a peaceful stillness that the burden of a grounded life cannot know.

Everything is so far away now. Who would ever trade this for the nest? For the tower? One feels like cloud, spreading out, floating upon vapors that the earth cannot begin to dream of. Weeks upon weeks we spent in that cell, after he gave that silly girl her ball of thread. I suppose I should thank her; my father is not a man to ever go all the way with anything. Built the Labyrinth--the Labyrinth--the only one anyone knows about, the one that precedes all mazes and labyrinths everywhere. For a king to hide his shame in, let it feast on others. And so for the sake of a boy and the princess, my father undid the whole thing. He spent years designing that place, and then one little girl with a crush comes along and changes his mind.

I closed my eyes. None of it matters now; I'm free. I'm finally fucking free. Free of him. Free of them. Free of all their worldly weight upon my life. No more doors, no more walls, no more anything or anyone telling me what I can and cannot do. Fuck every last one of them; I'm free. Laughter erupted from my chest before I opened my eyes and saw the whole of the Greek coastline, lying beside the Aegean and speckled with houses and palaces and towers and mazes like ants. None of them would ever keep me again. I could turn left... I could turn right... and still the breeze carried me effortlessly. What use has a bird for legs, except to catch dinner? Hahaha!

What a farce! Up here everything is easier. No wonder the gods were eternal; even the weight of years was lifted up here. Age trickling to the heavy, dirty ground below where all struggled and trudged their weary way through their lives, like feathers. No wonder Zeus was an eagle. High above Mount Olympus, he could breathe the pure air and never feel the weight of years upon his shoulders. Just soaring, gliding, effortlessly. One could sleep upon these currents and it would be better than the softest bed.

I don't hear him anymore. Even he's a speck beneath me now. You never could go through with anything all the way, could you, Father? You gave that girl the ball of string... the secret to your Labyrinth, so that she could give it to a boy, and leave you and I imprisoned! She didn't deserve it; didn't earn it; didn't appreciate it. She just took your secret and ran off. Foolish old man.

Look at me now! These wings will never get such use from someone like you. You're afraid... afraid of flying too high, of going all the way, of breaking the boundaries that nobody else in the world could even begin to trespass. All I need to do is turn my wings, give them a long deep flap, and I go even higher. Circling, over and over; so high that I cannot even tell the blue sea above from the blue sea below, with the sun reflecting off one and shining in the other and my feathers all around me, fluttering and fluttering, weightless as I am upon this soft, caressing breeze.

And look at them...

...they're... they're less than they were, aren't they? Trails of feathers beneath me... like little angels fluttering to the ground... soft dandelion seeds blowing in the wind... or... or... white flower petals scattered across the blue ripples of silk that lazily make their way upon the Aegean.

Do I even need wings anymore?

Hahaha!

Flap flap flap! See, Father! See how the gods reward me! Do you see?! DO YOU SEE?! I don't even need wings anymore! They're all gone; the gods themselves have shown me I CAN FLY WITHOUT THEM! Like Zeus, like Hermes! We were born to fly, Dad. We were born to fly and now I feel the rush of wind through me... the sea sparkling beneath me. Wheeeee....

Weightless, flapping, flying like a bird, soaring without wings; flying even as birds cannot do. Weightless, weightless, weightless....

But the winds come back to me now, rushing through my hair, getting stronger, rippling my clothes, my chest, my cheeks as the sea gets closer.

I'm coming back down, Father. Are you happy? Are you happy now?

[Kicks]

Stop.

Another sting into the abdomen.


Please.


Another ghastly breath escaping past cracked lips.


Just stop!


Tide upon tide of them. First it was only one, but then several others fell upon me. I was their meal, their banquet, something to stick to their ribs and last til morning in their rotting intestines.


I would become nothing more than a blurry memory. I would become nothing more than bones with torn tendons lasting still on white, cracked fragments.


If I close my eyes now, will the pain cease? Will I feel like less of a chew toy to these hungry beasts? No... Not beasts. For even the dumbest beasts in nature had their own moral code. These things, whatever I chose to call them, had no sense or direction. These things only lived to seek destruction and become the destruction.


It had started with razors catching my ankle. They tore right past the jeans and dug into the tender flesh beneath. A century ago I was still alive, I was limping, I was panting, I was hurting, and scared.


Flash forward one hundred years and I was a goner. I was nothing more than a meal now. A meal wondering when the pain would cease and the white light at the end of the tunnel would come.


Was this how it happened for others before me? Were they all doomed to the same fate of suffering? Was this nothing more than torture?


Why did I keep praying for it to end? Or for it to never begin. Maybe if I keep thinking, I’ll be able to figure out what I did wrong. Did I do anything wrong? Could I have ran any faster with this swollen ankle? Could I have screamed a little louder for help?


Or was I nothing but a memory from the beginning?


I felt like I was being born again in blood. I was not being buried in roses and dirt, nor was I being cremated in intense flames. I was being resurrected into bones, torn flesh, and ripped muscles.


Soon I would become like them. Would I still have a mind? Would I still need to breathe? Or would I become nothing more than a hideous creature living to eat?


Would this be my last thought? No. I had not yet asked for forgiveness for all the wrongs I’ve done. Would I still be reincarnated as a living demon should I ask for forgiveness? A pleading part of my soul to do it, just do it. I did not want to become like them.


I wanted to die. I wanted to see heaven.


I didn’t want to eat people.


But how did I do this? Why did I ignore all those times someone asked me? Why didn’t I ever listen? It was because I always assumed I had so much time. I always assumed this day would never come, that I would never want this.


But I so desperately did want it. If only because I did not want to become like them.


I wanted to die. I wanted to see heaven.


I didn’t want to eat people.


Did I beg for it? Did I scream for it? But my throat was missing. So much blood. So much blood everywhere. I was in the mouths and claws of these creatures. I was missing parts of missing parts of my body. My throat was gone, my right cheek was gone, my legs were gone. I was being eaten alive.


Would there be anything left to reanimate after death? How long had it been since this had even begun? Could I stop it? But no, that was not the answer. I was already infected. There was no use continuing to fight. So why did my arm keep flailing around?


Oh wait. It wasn't. It was in the jaws of one of these demons. My arm was being eaten now. What was left of there for my to be chewed and digested?


I was fading. But there was no light, there was no tunnel. There was just me and barely any pain left to scream at me. But that wasn't the point. There was no light. There was no tunnel. Everything was fading. Just fading.


I wanted to die. I wanted to see heaven.


I didn't want to eat people.


Was this the change? The feeling that started with a tingling? Was it already too late for me? Would I even be sincere? Could God tell if I were lying to him or not? That I was only selfishly willing to sacrifice my stubborn views in exchange to not people? To not come back and live like this. For in life, I needed a purpose. Something that was meaningful. Survival held no meaning when there was nothing to survive for but the pure act of it. And eating people day after day, causing death and destruction held no other meaning to it than the spreading of hell fire.


Was I still breathing? No. I did not feel like I was. Was that because my body had become numb in feeling? Was it not only the pain that was numbed, but also other feelings as well? Was this what it was like to not be in control? Or was that what these demons were feeling?


I wanted to die. I wanted to see heaven.


I didn't want to eat people.


They kept repeating in my head like a chorus stuck on repeat. I needed to do something. I couldn't stay on earth. I couldn't live my life eating and destroying people. I could not come back as one of them. I wanted to see heaven. I wanted to see my family. I wanted to see friends and enmies I had made. I did not want to stay down here.


But how did I begin this change? With a prayer? How simple was it? This simplest of prayers, and it was supposed to be the most powerful. It was supposed to be my ticket into heaven.


I know what you did for me...

What was that now? Was I still fading? But it looked like something was beginning in the darkness.

...and I'm sorry...

It could have just been my imagination. Something to trick me into stopping. Hell had already come to earth. I was already doomed... but this felt... this oddly felt... whereas before it...

I believe in you and I ask that...

Were these tears? no. I could not cry when there were claws stuck into my eyes. How was I even still alive? Was this part of this virus too? To keep us alive long enough to feel what it was like to tease death? Why was I feeling so weightless?

you please come into my heart.

[m139]

Part Eight of the September Story
Previous Installment (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=75407&p=2614904&viewfull=1#post2614904)
Next Installment (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=75408&p=2614902&viewfull=1#post2614902)

By the time Miranda finished reading the letter, her hands were shaking. She turned towards where Paul had been, but he was already gone. She was seated, on a small piece of carpet, alone in the world- at least, so it seemed to her in that instant.

The world was spinning. Nothing was still, everything was weightless. She tried to grasp pieces of reality to bring them back to the ground, but they would slip through her fingers.

And that, actually, was partly her own fault. She did not want to believe all the words in the letter, it had been hard enough accepting the announcement of ten years ago. Yet, even though she wished she could doubt them, she felt they were true. Based on what she had seen, and all that had happened, they were so unfortunately true.

She held the letter and cried. She wished the world had melted away that day. Why did she have to live it twice? Why must she feel the betrayal all over again?

Her mother had been one of the members on that council. She had been elected when Miranda was seven, and as with all members, only came back every five years to see their family. Miranda, therefore, had only seen her mother once after. Her mother had seemed the same- well as "same" as you can be after five years- just more tired. A little more distant, but what was one to expect when the two sides only talked to each other every five years, and the closest relationship had broken off when one of the parties was still a child? In truth, it was only as much as Miranda knew of her mother that her mother had remained the same.

She had been sure her mother loved her, then. Was not that what every mother did? And did not her mother hug her every time she came home?

Yet, why had her mother never warned her? Why had she not said anything? Never had her mother hinted about what would happen. And more importantly, why had she left someone she loved so far behind?

Miranda cried again. It was not the first time, and certainly not the last. Still, this time even the deepest cuts were reopened, wounds that had never fully healed from the announcement. At times, they were somewhat clotted over. Now, they were wide open, and the tears fell freely from her eyes.

Silently, she asked why. This, too, was not the first time she would ask, nor was it the last. Sure, the letter answered some of it, but not all. It was Mileners' letter, and though it spoke for all of them, she wanted a specific one. Her mom's letter must be out there somewhere. Or maybe, somewhere in the building...

It could be, possibly. Maybe, all these years, her mother had saved up something for her somewhere.

She stood up. Could it be so? Dare she hope?

But how could she not hope? What was left when all else was gone? What had kept her alive all these years, after all? Certainly, she had always had a will to survive, but the goal was not to survive in general. No, it was at first, just after the announcements, she had had to stay strong for her only brother. Then, when he had died thanks to a mob, she had had to stay alive still for him- his sacrifice could not mean nothing. Later on, she had stayed alive for the hope of little Lyra, that her life would be better, that someone else would have a better tomorrow, that she, at least would not be betrayed by the one who would now love her most.

And that was it. That was the only reason she stayed alive.

It was. She knew it, too.

She knew she was lying to herself.

She knew the other real reason, the other reason she was still alive, was because she wanted answers. And here, where her answers should have been answered, she was faced with only more questions.

And...

There was one more reason she wanted to live.

She wanted to see her mother again.

She wanted to hug her, to tell her everything, to be told it was all okay, to learn the answers to everything. She wanted that same relationship she had with her mother when she was seven. She wanted her brother and father back, too. She wanted her neighborhs back, before they went crazy. She wanted her friends. She wanted- she wanted...

She wanted everything to go back to the way it was, not ten years ago, but seventeen years ago. She wanted to go back to being a child, to having fun with no worries, to the days of her happiness.

And she wanted them all to be true. No lies, no half-truths, no experiments. Just her life, no complications. A real utopia. Not a failed experiment, not even an experiment at all. It was her wish...

... for something that could never be.

She sat back down. Was the truth really worth finding out? And would it really be worth finding out? If it was lies, what if she believed them only because she wanted to, like those lies she told herself after the announcement: that it was just a mistake, that a few days later and everything would be back to normal. Or what if there was nothing, and she was getting all her hopes up for a great disappointment? Or what if- of this possibility she was most afraid of- the truth was even worse? What if her mother never cared at all, or even decided to-

No. She would not believe it. Mothers love their children. After all, even Lyra's mother, poor woman, had died keeping her little child warm. And her mother would do the same, right?

There was proof of it somewhere, she was sure. Somewhere, if not here, than in whatever box had the letter from her mother. No life was without weight and certainly not the life of a daughter. She would find something from her mother, she was sure of it. If only she looked.

She stood up, but too quickly. The sudden movement, and all the emotion was too much for her body.

For a second, she felt all, the next, she felt herself weightless.

Then, it all went black.