evanesce–
passing out of sight, memory, or existence
There are times when the days grow cold and the wind bites with teeth and bring chills to your nose. Then, there are times when the nights are quiet, and the moonlight kisses your weakened bones, not bringing warmth, but serenity.
There are times when the sun is dim and your skin shrivels and dries in the heat, and the grass is sharp beneath your feet. Yet, there are times when the sun is a friend and heals the prodding leaves, not a cure, but a friend.
You don't exactly remember when you stop tasting the sweet bitterness of life, when the days are closing in, and the night holds fast.
No, you don't remember.
You can't see the walls of all you've built crash down upon the ocean that swallows it whole, but is still hungry.
Maybe it is better that you didn't.
Maybe it is better that it did go down in the first place, for nothing should stay forever.
Maybe you just don't know.
And you hate not knowing things.
You don't know when someone is a stranger or a friend these days and nights. You think everything is but a wisp if the air, and it feels that way too; your hands pass through everything, translucent, alone, trapped in a world where all can see you, but you can't see them.
But then you think, it must make sense because how can you see them if you can't even see yourself?
But then why would you not see yourself?
Maybe you don't know the answer.
And you hate not knowing things.
Where are you? Why don't you come by anymore? Are you ignoring me?
You don't know! Stop asking!
Why, why, WHY?
You don't know, and you can't remember.
When was time this painful?
You don't know, and you hate not knowing things.
Who is he? Why is he here? Why is he talking to you?
Hi. Don't you remember me? No? Okay, I'll start from the beginning, then. I can only hope something will spark a memory...
You hear tales of valor and strength and courage and war and you think, that could never have been yourself. All you know is a prune of a person. There's no way you were ever so young!
But maybe it is you. But maybe he is lying to you, telling you you're someone else.
You don't know, so you send the blond-haired one away. You notice he has a faint scar on his lip, but his eyes are so startling blue, you look somewhere else.
Part of you wishes he stayed to tell you more of the stories and fairytales he makes of the two of you. But you know it's not real, so you shake your head. You need to empty it of fairytales.
But doing that, what else have you emptied?
You don't know.
And you don't care.
But you still hate not knowing things.
There's a shadow that's deepening in your mind, filling places where light and happiness should be, but you've grown so used to it, the light burns and kills.
The dark is so soothing.
Hey! What's going on? You remember me?
It's a different boy this time, with curly hair and soft, crazed brown eyes.
You want to tell him to leave you alone. He's not the one you're looking for.
When you don't reply, he sighs, like you're the frustrating one, and walks out the door, glancing back at you.
You don't know why he's sending in other people to talk to you, when he should just talk to you himself.
But he doesn't come, and you don't know why.
All you know is that you hate not knowing things.
And for the time being, it's enough to satisfy you.
The next time someone walks in, it's a girl with black hair and pink highlights. Behind her is a boy with pale skin and the same colored hair. His eyes are almost black, though. The girl's is like the blond-haired boy's: sharp and painful.
Go away.
They can't hear you.
Come on, Owl Head. I know you're in there!
Who's Owl Head? You don't know, and they must not be talking to you, so you just listen and don't speak.
I know it hurts that he's not around, but you need to do something!
They mention him.
Tell me his name, you scream. You need to know, for you can't remember.
They don't answer you, but you suppose that's because you didn't answer them either. Karma.
Stay with me, Beth. You're stronger than anyone I know! Please talk to me!
Go away!
You don't know why they don't listen.
You hate not knowing, but you're tired.
So, naturally, you fall asleep.
You don't notice her cry, you don't see them walk out the door after your eyes close.
When you're awake again, you're still tired, but this girl doesn't seem to care. She sits by your bedside anyway.
She has strange brown hair, like someone cut it off with a kitchen knife. Her eyes are confusing. You don't like confusing. You don't look at her.
She speaks gently words you can't make out.
Stop!
She doesn't listen.
Annabeth! Remember me? Remember me. I know you can. You are my friend. You know me. I know you. Talk to me.
She's commanding you, and you want to. Since when did you listen to this girl? You cross your arms and stare at the wall behind her instead. She's mumbling something.
I told Jason it wouldn't work. Urg. I'm hopeless.
Then, she's gone.
You don't know who she is, or why she's telling you she knows you, when she clearly doesn't. You've never seen her before.
But a voice at the back of your head, trapped by the never-ending dark is shouting muffled words at you: you know her. you know all of them.
But you don't know who the voice is. It's a stranger. You don't know what it is.
But you're used to not knowing, so you shrug it off.
you know me! I know you!
The next day, there's a small girl with dark skin and frizzy hair with a big Asian boy next to her.
Hey. I didn't know you for very long, but I trust you. I hope you can trust us back. Can you hear us?
How can you trust them if you don't know anything about them? Nope, nope, nope. No answering.
No knowing.
No remembering.
You're tired, and the girl beside you is too. Her dark hair is in a braid falling over her shoulder. Her eyes are hard and her skin is tough.
She reminds you of someone, but you can't place your tongue on it.
She doesn't speak, so neither do you.
After a while, for you can't keep track of time, she sighs and looks you in the eye. You don't look away.
All she says are two words: I'm sorry
You don't know why she's apologizing.
But maybe you don't want to know.
She leaves, and it looks like she's holding back emotions she can't suppress.
Yes, she reminds you of someone.
Stay!
But she can't hear.
Is everyone deaf these days?
There is a time when the darkness closes in and you can't keep your eyes open anymore. You're just tired, so, so tired.
You can see blurs of people crowded around you.
Leave me alone! Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?!
But they don't listen. Something wet hits your face. It's warm. Someone's crying.
But you don't know if it's yourself, or someone else.
It's too much, and the darkness wins.
When your eyes are opened, you're in a lobby of crowded people. They're transparent too. They're sad. You don't know why.
There's someone at the receptionist's desk. He looks at you. You give him a coin in your pocket. It's gold. It doesn't really matter to you anyway.
He gives it back to you.
Give it too the boatman. I suppose I can let you through.
You walk away, and the world of bright lights and colors fades to a dark color. The man at the boat, he's the one you give it to. You don't like him very much. He wears a dark robe and he is skeletal.
Hmm... I guess they really can never stay apart for long. He came by a few years ago, says he.
The man mentions him. Maybe he's here! He can meet you!
The ride ends and you wait in line. You're on your toes, excited to see him again. That's all you care about.
You stand in front of a tall desk where three white masks look down on you. They're expressionless. They don't speak. They just point to a gate. It's pretty. You run there because it's so lovely compared to everything else.
You go there.
The gates are empty. There's no one waiting for you.
After lots of commotion, you disappointingly make your way through the gate. You see faces that are joyous and they sing to you.
You don't care, you don't know.
Who are they, anyway?
Finally, you reach the center of the people and there he is, arms open.
He's waiting for you.
A smile is plastered on his face and his eyes–oh, his beautiful eyes–are familiar. They tumble and roll in great waves of green and blue.
You run to him and jump in his arms. You forget his name, but he's here. That's all that matters.
He pulls away and looks at you, straight into your soul.
You don't notice the other people crowded around you and the boy in a circle.
You concentrate on him.
Annabeth, he laughs.
And you're hit with a ton of bricks that come crashing down and seep into your mind. The darkness is gone.
"Percy. Percy. Percy!"
You're laughing.
"Annabeth!"
And finally, everything is real. Everything is familiar. Everything is here.
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone.
But though you're still with me,
I've been alone all along.
evanescence–
soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence;
quickly fading or disappearing
Yes, I'm continuing Ocean's Essence. The plot bunnies just took over me this morning and I had to write this one-shot. Hehe...sorry.
Please review!