Re: quiet home garden: alyssa & damian
[Alyssa liked the effect that she had on people because through their eyes, she could experience it all like the first time. The possibilities of time and space hadn't been always so omnipresent for her. She hadn't always known that all matter was energy condensed to a slow vibration. She still didn't know that, not in the way that most would attribute knowledge as something capable of being possessed, something held onto until the deterioration of the vessel. Alyssa knew things and she forgot them, sometimes she intentionally forgot things just to find them again. There is no such thing as death, and truth is a perfect circle.
The doctors said that hate was a wasted emotion, but it pervaded her consciousness like a life raft in dark waters. Any time she started to forget her intentions, Alyssa could latch on tight and find the surface again. She'd argued for the good of humanity, when the others like her had been drunk on power and high expectations… but that had all been then, that had been before. Before syphilitic rages and poppy flower delusions, before the fall of Rome.
And while it might have been something leftover from the vessel, Alyssa knew what hate tasted like now. She hated man. She hated man. The ones that she halfway found to be worthy proved themselves to not be of humankind at all, not in the way she understood it. They were dead, or undead, or never born from mothers.
Like Damian.
The world was their oyster, and oysters got shucked. With her blood-dotted thumb once again in her own possession, Alyssa used fingers in the worm-riddled soil to find her way back to slippered feet. The overgrown garden had become their Elysium, but the path back to the Quiet Home seemed to glow, beckoning from beneath the star-bright sky. The ground under their feet was almost gossamer, shot through a vintage lens. It was the sky that seemed hyper-real with the high definition strobes of shooting stars that left trails behind like slow exposure.]
Come die with me, little priest. Come kill with me, little priest. [The two words, die and kill, seemed to overlap in their heads. One was the word, the other was an echo, but it was impossible to tell which was which. She'd said kill, no she'd said die, no… she'd said..
If they were a part of everything and everything was a part of them, then it didn't matter as the two concepts were really the same thing anyway.
As they got nearer to the Home, the voices of men could be heard and felt, a vibration that plucked the strands of Damian and her's sensory web. The men were a duo of Home security armed with flashlights and thorazine, they stomped into the treeline on an apparent mission to collect the patient they'd lost after lights out. Alyssa turned toward Damian and held a finger up to her lips in the universal signal that he should be very, very quiet. They were hunting rabbits.
The beam of a flashlight caught the Beetlejuice linen of her pants and the men could be heard shouting that she was 'over there!' before Alyssa took off like a shrieking torrent of psychadelic fireworks, running deeper into the trees.]