Ghost of Memoria

We’re already on the cobblestone bridge set with flagstones. Behind us is the ivory tower,  a whitish cream, seemingly pleasant pretty birdcage. Ahead of us is the iron tower, an ugly torture prison of black with some reds. There’s a huge gate blocking the entrance to the iron tower.

A crowd dressed in white, so bright it’d hurt my eyes, coming up both ends of the bridge, coming in like a crowd pressuring. Suffocating me. I’m wearing a silver tiara set with a ruby. I should be with emerald. They took away my emerald and had me wear this ruby.

We trudge across the bridge, from ivory to iron. The crowd guiding and surrounding him, I follow behind as last in line. Couldn’t get near him. Scared, frightened, hollow, numbing slowly. Wanted to apologize. Wanted to end it all right there.

The crowd wouldn’t let me near the edges of the bridge, knew I’d consider the inescapable descent. For a moment, the deep drop appeared inviting. A chasm where no ray of light would hurt me ever again. Not a death proper for me, their beloved/treasure (kiri’nedra), that was not a suitable consequence for me.

He’s in chains, many heavy chains, but not I. Just being pushed back, pushed away from him. Wanted to call out, cry out, but there was a lump in my throat. I wished desperately that he’d look at me, one more time. Someone tugs on one of his chains. The gate makes an awful sound as it opens. We’re a quarter the distance to the iron tower. I wasn’t permitted any further. Ah! He turned around, looking at me.

I hate them, I hate them for using and abusing him, I hate them for blaming me. I want to hear his laughter, sit by a fireside under stars and listen to the stories he kept within. I want to play with all the creatures whom we held kinship with. I want to dance as we weave the dreamer’s circle, right here with him. I don’t see monsters. I see my beloved and my lover. I want to hold him and stroke his head, singing softly. I’ll blast them. Blast them all, then burn myself as the blood-price.

He smiles faintly at me, I returned it. I held to that as long as I could. I couldn’t destroy them. You see me. Him looking at me, defuses my wrath. Caught in my sorrow and weighty sense of guilt and shame, his faint smile asks me to remember.

I don’t mega-blast. I keep the memory of your smile, one more time, again, and again, again and again.

“I want be a reason for your smile.”

“And I want to be a reason for your happiness.”

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