Uprise: And Down She Fell

She had been given a task.  Stand guard at the door till the music started, and then make sure nobody started shit inside.

Easy enough task.

‘Til the zed started swarming around both sides of the building.  Half the court ran off, fucking cowards, and she jumped down off the porch so she could see the zed coming from both sides.  Don’t let ‘em get behind you.

And down they fell.

Then she realized Remy, Freyfaxi and Alvie were still on the porch, and the zed were falling on them like a wave of flesh and teeth.

Her heart skipped a beat, those were her people, she was not going to let them fall.

She swung around the outside of the wave, taking down zed as she went.  Trying to pick off enough so that the others could handle the rest without worry.  But the wave turned, and the zed kept coming.  They surrounded her, dragging her to the ground.

She wasn’t concerned, she reached for her injectable.  She knew that she could stand again, do more damage, help save her people.  She could feel the Poet’s song burning under her skin, driving the needle down towards her thigh.

Pain interrupted it’s decent.  A sharp prick along her spine, pushed deeper, past her ribs, down into her flesh.  She screamed as the air rushed from her lungs, a weak, pitiful sound that stopped suddenly as the blade found her heart.  She never saw what got her, only felt the blade.

And down she fell.

Her eyes dimmed and the needle dropped from her fingers.  She did’t feel the teeth sink into her flesh, she didn’t hear the cry of the court as they tore their way to her side.  A priest called upon their gods, brews poured down her unresponsive throat, injectables sunk into her skin all to no avail.

Tears fell on her empty, cooling flesh as they lifted her limp body, carrying her to safety and away from the chaos of the battle.  She did’t respond as they laid her out properly and sat vigil with her before she sunk into the ground as eventually she did.  Like they all do.

The darkness that surrounded her now was complete.  She did’t know how long she remained there, floating bodiless in the inky darkness, cold and alone.  The music that had become a constant companion faded, and she spent an eternity screaming into the silence until exhaustion stole her fear. She fells silent, crying tearless sobs into the vast nothingness.

“Hello.”

The voice shattered the silence, a soft whisper that wormed its way into her mind.

That voice twisted her more than her ascension.  For the next, hour?  Two? It asked her questions she could not answer, sung her songs that tore at her very soul.  It opened her eyes, and gave her a horror she could not shake.

In the end it stole her voice, her one comfort in the darkness, and tossed her out to the waiting arms of Primus.

She sobbed then, his touch like fire on her newly formed flesh.  She could hardly stand to accept his worried embrace.  Everything so warm, so full of life, but the Song of the Dead remained, a constant discordance in her soundtrack, a twisted earworm she couldn’t shake off.

Even after Primus consoled her, and Cole helped her find her voice again, the music remained.

She knew she had to find the answers to questions she couldn’t ask.  She had to find solace with her decisions, with her life.

It’s the end of the world as she knows it.

And down she falls.

Picture Dump!

When I went to college, one of my favorite classes was photography.  I learned how to use an SLR camera and even spent much of my time in a dark room.

Apparently, I am ancient.

With the invention of high definition cameras that are included on pretty much everyone’s phones the days of the dark room are numbered.

I don’t know how to feel about that.  On one hand, we are losing an art, and, as someone who treasures the knowledge of creating handmade items, that always makes me sad.  On the other, it’s so much easier now to document your life and your work.  Photography has become much less expensive, and more available to folks who may not have been able to afford to explore it when you had to pay for processing.

I spend most of my time photographing my dog and my guinea pigs.  I would capture my husband’s smiling face, but he hates to be photographed, and I respect that.  I also photograph my jewelry, and I try to photograph all items I have ever made.  I like to be reminded that I have created beauty in the dark moments when my depression lies and tells me I am worthless.

I haven’t posted pictures here before, so I would like to share with you, dear reader, some of my favorite photographs.  Here are some of my favorite photographs of Akari, my lovable mutt of whiny doom.

It Makes You Think…

Beads have always been a source of sanity for me.  Way back when I was an 8 year old kiddo I started using beads as therapy.  To help focus my thoughts, and to make me feel like there is beauty in a world that didn’t seem all that beautiful.

I still do that today.

Beads are a prayer.  A prayer that despite all the negativity and all the horrors that exist in this world, that someone will look at this tiny piece of glass or rock and see something beautiful.  Something worthy.  That they will understand that not everything has to be dark and scary.  Beads are a reminder that even though it might seem like life is focused on blood and bombs and pain, it also has joy, and light, and laughter.

At least.  They are for me.  Perhaps they can be a reminder for you too.

If all I accomplish in my life is creating reminders that life is full of goodness and joy in a time when it’s hard to see it as such, then I will not feel as if the short time I spent here on this planet was a waste.

So say I.