::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Instinct: Old Forest

Old Forest
She knew, as she approached the clearing, what would happen next, some memories never fade.  Pausing at the edge of the forest Elisesofia braced herself, before stepping into the bright light that fell amid the wildflowers.  Still shrouded in her cloak, she slowly moved towards the center, head down, silent, listening. 

“What is your purpose?”  The voice came out from directly in front of her, smooth and flowing, like the music made by the flowing of an isolated brook, high in the mountains.  It was not threatening, but serious, with a slight inflection that gave away curiosity. 
“I must speak to Kitra.”  This was all she knew.  Kitra could help. 
“What is your name?” This voice, identical to the other, came slowly, on her right. 
“Elisesofia.”  This she whispered.  She had not spoken her own, true name in years. 

There was no response.

Elisesofia waited.  Then looking up for the first time since she had entered the clearing, began to speak, telling beginning of her story:
dim light illuminates her,
standing naked once more, proud.
shivering as cool air
passes over pale skin
that now swells to reveal new growth
the last remnant of Love.

she shakes away the single tear and stands, strong.
to walks back into the deep comfort of the forest.

rain falls quietly in the night, again
and she runs, wildly in the dark
carrying the child born to destiny,
with spite following just behind

crossing through the waters
she hands the child to the trees
and turns, facing spite
from the trees emerge the few
who still believe in Love's remnant,
and without a word they stand to fight.

Upon these last words Elisesofia Petlykov sank to the ground where her mother fought, her legs unwilling to bear the burden.  Around her form stood the elves, tall and thin, like wisps of fog.  Their skin was pale, glowing delicately with a soft light.  Their heads bent low, long hair well past their hips, in pale shades of green, shrouding their faces.  In silence, the elves gathered her, carrying her through the forest, to Kitra.  

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