Repose Memories (reposememories) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-05 22:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | dylan michaels, ~plot: memories |
[memories]
What: Memory
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: experiencing
Warning, this memory contains: stabbing
“Well, I’m fucked and not in a fun way.” You make yourself laugh, a good hah hah before you die in the middle of a burning forest. You’re on your knees, looking at your hands that are covered in dirt and gripping onto crumbling ash through goggles barely keeping your eyes from turning into tiny dust balls. You have to get through this, you have to get on your feet. You imagine your mother telling you to do it. Get up and fight. She demands from you with the voice of a warrior and you listen. She’d want you to die on the battlefield, not like she did asleep in a comfy bed waiting for death to finally wash over her body. You do what she says, you stand up. First foot is a little wobbly but the second is strong. You stand up straight and look around to see everything on fire. It’s fucking horrifying, honestly.
Black spears shooting up into the sky covered with bursting orange flame that jumps to the ground, hungry for more food. You look up trying to find any sign of blue, you close your eyes and try to listen to a dead forest, but neither are making an appearance. You shouldn’t be out here in the middle of death like this, but you need to know who or what started this madness. Squinting, you focus on finding a path to the source. You’ve always been able to find paths in any forest, it’s a gift that your mother likely passed down to you and even in this hellhole you can still do it. In the burning brightness, there’s a cool green ray of light, slowly winding past burning trees and roaring flames.
You take off into a run and the green stays ahead of you, it fills you with rejuvenation and urges you to keep going. Find the source, slay the dragon.
It feels like you’ve been running for miles by the time you can hear her laughing. The laugh is loud and shrill and mean like you’re getting a punishment that’s been a long time coming. The green light stops in the middle of a field of burnt grass. No, wait, not burnt. Black. Lush, soft, alive grass that you can’t help but reach down and touch. There’s something wrong about it. The grass makes you want to quit, to lay down, to take a nap. That might have been an option if she stopped fucking laughing for five seconds. But, nope, she’s still standing there in the middle of everything laughing her head off.
“Oh, I detest the great outdoors! I think I’ll build a new castle right here, darling.” She’s dressed in a glittering black gown and her black hair is up in the dumbest looking beehive you’ve ever seen in your life. And, for the record, she wears way too much jewelry. At least ten pounds of diamonds around her neck just because she can. You can barely see her face through the smoke but you can see her bling a mile away.
“I think your feng-shui is way off, girlfriend.” You pull a big hunting knife out of your boot and get to running. You hear yourself think: “Am I really going to stab a witch?” and then you swing your knife.
“Did you really just stab me?” She looks down at her beautiful black dress, cut open with a flesh wound across her stomach. You stand tall because your momma would have been proud.
“YUP.”