brendan scott ( earth elemental ) . (liveandlearn) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-06-04 22:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-09-09, brendan |
and with the gravity that seems to pull us down, there is awareness to align us with the ground.
Who: Brendan.
Where: His apartment.
When: Late night.
The light from the laptop’s screen was the only source of illumination in the apartment. It wasn’t that Brendan was worried about waking his neighbours, whether it be those on either side of him or those across the street from the building in which he had found a place to rent, more that in a strange way he found the blanket of darkness around him oddly comforting. It wasn’t as reassuring or soothing as trees and grass and damp soil, the truly natural and free-growing things that had always spoken to him like nothing else ever could, but there was just something about it. Brendan couldn’t explain it.
For some time now there had been too many things he couldn’t explain, whether it was the things he could do -- and couldn’t, respectively -- to the world around him as a whole. Ever since his parents had died, Brendan had been plagued by questions. In all seriousness, that trend had started long before that fateful day when he had found his mother and father in their home in Philadelphia, but it was only afterwards that he started to feel their weight pressing down on him. Weighing heaviest of all, naturally, was the one question he just couldn’t answer for himself, one that the authorities hadn’t been able to help him with either. Not that he had asked, not in so many words, but the question had been implied.
Who, or what, had killed his parents?
With a sigh Brendan sat back, the white glow of the laptop’s light spilling over his face and chest as he felt his shoulder blades press into the rear support of the chair. His gaze lifted from the screen, filled with inconclusive theories and tall tales, and found the window before him. The drapes were mostly closed, but there was a space of two or three inches through which he could see the outside world, lit by streetlights and the odd passing car. Brendan drew in a deep breath and held it, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. Maybe the answers to his questions couldn’t be found on the internet, in forums and on independent sites run by conspiracy theorists. Maybe the answers were out there somewhere, on the streets and in the dark pockets of the world no one really wanted to investigate, let alone acknowledge.
In the end, what it really came down to was how far he was prepared to go. How badly he needed those questions answered. That one question. Ultimately that was the only one that mattered, the only one to which he desperately needed the answer. It wasn’t about want, not really. Brendan doubted he would sleep better or feel safer if he knew how exactly his parents had died. No. It had always been about need. A deep, driving, undeniable need that he just couldn’t step away from. During the day he could lock it away in one of the corners of his mind and pretend as if it didn’t exist, but it was always there, waiting silently, ready to tumble forward into the front of his mind and dominate his thoughts as soon as he unlocked the door at the end of the day.
Brendan needed to know, sooner rather than later. Preferably sooner. He could only carry this weight for so long before it threatened to crush him.