Flowers of Light
Series: Silver Diamond
Theme: Chigusa's nightmare
Sometimes I can feel it slipping away. Those pieces of my past, like leaves withering on the limb, my mind starts to go dark and all I know is the abject terror of the night. It's less now, well, less than before, but since parts of my before are no longer there I'm now sure what I'm really comparing it to. Maybe I've been awake for too long, or not long enough, I don't know.
*sigh*
What part of me is real; the flesh, hard muscle under smooth white skin? Or the black hair that always seems to be in my eyes no matter how many times I push it away? Maybe I should just cut it? Doesn't matter, I don't really care enough to do that. I'm getting tired, but I can't let myself fall back into that world.
The darkness is overwhelming, stifling in its pressure put against my chest, forcing what breath I have left out of my lungs. Maybe I'll finally die here. Wouldn't that be a kick, if I died?
*heh*
Don't think I can, die that is. Why can't I again? Oh yeah, the plants. Who thought it was a bright idea to mix-up our DNA with plants anyways? We're like milkweeds, can't kill us, poisonous if touched, but necessary for other's survival. It sucks. Sometimes I really just want to close my eyes and sleep forever. To dream of blue skies and green grass, colorful flowers, and flowing water would be a wonderful dream.
Maybe I'll just dream of him. He's blue and green and gold; warm sunshine and cool glacier water, softness and strength. He's the embodiment of all the happy dreams I've ever seen, though I've never dreamed them before meeting him. Who is he? When did I meet him? Why do I feel so alone?
The darkness is spreading, a lonely plane of death and waste and pain before me all the way to the horizon. Wait, something's different. It's not totally black, there are small lights twinkling out there, interspersed amongst the darkness. Flowers? Could they be light flowers fighting off the night?
I hate the night, its dark, and cold, and makes the sides of my mind quiver. The flowers are growing stronger, there are more of them and the darkness is no longer so dark and gloomy, so frightening.
*reach*
I want one. I want to hold the light in my hand, to fully posses it and never let it go. Can I keep something so fragile and not break it? Will it wither and die if I pluck it from the Earth and keep it pressed against my flesh until I rot away? Will it resent me forever?
Does it matter? I want it no matter what. The questions role around in the darkness and I push them away, not wanting to think. When I think there seems to be more darkness than light.
*clutch*
It's softer than I thought; cool to the touch, but warming up steadily. I wonder what it smells like, floral, of course, sweet and delicate but not something that you'd easily forget. It's so soft and calming, breathing in this scent, so familiar...
*press*
It's even softer against my lips, have you ever pressed petals to your lips, the sensation is indescribable. The softness gives way and there's a strength behind the first touch, a slight moisture as the essence of the flower is pressed against flesh and trickles across the surface, causing lips to part briefly, the scent and taste and feel completely enveloping what portions of the mind are left.
Suddenly the darkness isn't so dark; the light brings colors and feelings-golden warmth, blue wind, silver sound. Suddenly there are fingers pressed against flesh, warm, gentle, needing in the insistency. Glittering warmth skims the surface of eyes, golden strands that fend off the darkness.
Cherry blossom petals flutter overhead, and his eyes search mine. My fingers slide through his hair and his face lifts farther from mine, no longer sharing the same breath. But the taste and feel remain on my lips and I smile softly, mirroring the one above. Slender white fingers brush against his lips and he blushes lightly.
There is darkness around him, but he is light and the darkness is the soft black of natural night, not the horrifying thing in my nightmare...my memories. There is a shifting and then fingers slide under my head, cool skin that gently raises it slightly to rest against silky cloth. I curl slightly, wrapping my arms around the small waist, head cushioned, I sleep again.
*sigh*
But this time all my dreams are bright and warm and there is the soft murmur of my name on the breeze and fingers brush the dark hair from my eyes. Finally, I can sleep.
Fin.