Jan. 31st, 2012

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I had this in a personal journal, but it was more... personal. So I've trimmed it and chopped it and polished the rough bits off, and here it is-- for your irregularly unscheduled dose of hastily constructed fiction, see next post (as soon as I finish it, that is).

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The more I look back, the more sense it makes that pushing OBEY. OBEY. OBEY. on kids for their whole lives-- it ends with rebellion. It ends in loss of trust. It ends with adults with an endless need to question and tear down authority. Teaching kids to mindlessly accept authority-- it's a self-defeating philosophy. And for that, in the end, I am quite grateful.


Jan. 31st, 2012 06:44 pm
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It's short, but it's honest.

I walked in the djinni's cave, and saw all that he wanted me to see, and more: trees spun of glass, colored brighter, it seemed, than reality - the joy in making a work so detailed it takes on a life of its own; fountains of water lit from beneath, sparkling like a fairy story come to life - eyes that saw what the light shines through, above the light itself; a forest lit with smokeless flame, songbirds filling the clear air with their bright chimes - and the delight of one who took a life and made of it an art to fill eternities with joy.

His eyes watched mine, all the while, I saw; he never seemed to so much as glance at the intricate details, nor the grand expanses around him. There was life in the cave, pouring out - an eternal fountain of something that could not quite be expressed in words; in his eyes, there was a devouring hunger, gentler and more fierce than I'd expected, and infinitely unsated by the craft of his own hand.
thulcandran: (Default)
Thanks to Maslab, for the prompt: Fallout, Stallion, Bell. I suppose you could say it's about the fall of Carthage. In a way.

It was after, that things narrowed. It was after, that things made sense again. It was after, that things began to make sense for me, because nothing made sense, and I found my way in the vacuum. When nothing made sense, you worked with what you had. If that was nothing...

I walked from building to building. I walked to places where I could find food, and keep food, and I found food outside the walls. I slept in sheltered places, where I found them, and I spoke no words aloud. What was there to say?

When the wind blew, things shifted, and it scared me, for reasons I had no way to understand, anymore.

It was a different world, after. And I needed a different way to understand it.

The sky was a void; the ground was complex, and I learned to read it-- how to figure out where I was, based just on the radial cracks that flowed through the pavement, where it was. I learned to follow them, to break them, to navigate the ruins that had been a city world-renowned, a city where emperors had been blessed and saints had lived and oh, the gardens, and-- and I learned to walk, in the emptiness, to walk and to be silent in the silence around me.

I remembered, sometimes, and then I forgot how to live for a while, and stayed, standing, for more than parts of a day, smelling the smell of burned straw, where a stable had been, where I had seen the soldiers, and the sun upon their steel, where my brother had ridden his fine stallion when he rode it out the gates and the hooves on the ground made a sound in my chest where the hard was...

And then an eagle would pass above, or a lion somewhere, or simply the sound of the wind, maybe bringing the soft leaves together, maybe echoing in the now-empty bells on the towers, a soft sound like the ghost of a ring, and it woke me, and I remembered.

The walls were dust. They had come with Greek Fire, never used on land before, and they had come with seige weapons and they said that they had salted the land.

(It wasn't true. But they salted the cropland; that was enough for most.)

It wasn't a city anymore, and that was good, because I didn't need a city. I knew how to live; how to make things make sense. How to walk from place to place, and gather food for a day, and hide from the rain and the lions, and how to forget. How the rocks fell, how the trees grew, how long it took for grapes to grow how long, the flowers, how long they bloomed there before falling to the ground, and bringing there the insects...

How long I wandered there, I do not think I shall ever know, or seek to know. I remember the day the bell rang, and I remembered against my hardest tries, and I remember how the hoofbeats sounded, as the world changed again, and the sense of the world after was shattered.


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May 2013


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