Difference between revisions of "Just a Storm..."

Revision as of 14:21, 7 August 2013

BGM(Listen to both at once for maximum effect):
http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=AIJZWbuLmr8
http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=SDmbGrQqWog

.o(I’m just as terrible as any Shadow Lord.)

She felt the subtle changes in barometric pressure as keenly as she would any sense a cloying smell, or sickly sweet taste. Long before the other senses even perceived that a storm was on the horizon.

.o(Oh there was a time when I thought I was better. I was putting myself to the task of restoring all worlds, wasn’t I? That’s an altruistic goal, isn’t it?)

Dark clouds began to loom in the distance, a promise of what was to come.

.o(I was lying to myself though wasn’t I? I could tell myself that I was doing it to help people…but all I was doing was filling in the holes of my clockwork universe.)

The smell of ozone, the feel of static in the air.

.o(I never really connected to most people. There were just a few that meant something more to me than just another small piece of the puzzle. But in the end all they became were just very big gears, and springs and sprockets that I fit into place.)

The sound of water droplets pattering. A white noise to drown out all other noises. Tranquility in and of itself, to a child of storms.

.o(And when people wouldn’t fit, I rejected them. Cast them aside.)

And then the feel of rain. At first little smudges upon clothing, but before long it had become little rivulets running down her skin, while fabric clung unto it.

.o(…but there was one piece that never really did fit. And I couldn’t find it in me to cast that piece aside.)

She began to turn in place, like a ballerina, going through her movements. One leg up against the other. Hands upraised. A flash of forked light criss-crossed the sky.

.o(So I made the clock try to fit them instead. I altered it’s configuration, I broke it, I tried to jam them inside of it.)

A jumping movement carried her forward. Hands still upraised over her head. The movement itself was more graceful than she was actually capable of. A clap of thunder punctuated her landing.

.o(…and when that piece still wouldn’t fit. Maybe I tried to alter the piece. Maybe I didn’t. I don’t know what was going through my head at the time. Maybe I never will.)

One leg bent upon landing, while the other splayed out. Back straight, neck lifted upwards to the heavens.

.o(But in the end it all fell apart. And instead of a clockwork universe… all I have is a pile of twisted metal.)

.o(All because of one piece…) .o(…that wouldn’t fit.)

She hung suspended for a while, as if frozen in position. High above the ground, but still beneath the storm. Salt stung her eyes and other rivulets joined with the dirty rainwater.

.o(And maybe I don’t want to view my life as a clockwork universe any longer. Maybe I don’t want to view people as pieces anymore... ..time will tell.)

The air was her dance floor. The heavens was the only roof above her head. Fitting for a child of storms. An adopted child of the stars. And the earth far below lapped up her bitter tears as hungrily as it did the rain.