A/N: Well. This is quite possibly one of the strangest things I have ever written. Warnings, then: may cause disorientation, nausea, paralysis, shock ... et cetera. You get the picture. Anyways. Pre-The Lightning Thief, inspired by Radical Face's 'Let The River In'. I must stop and credit Bronte - that's believeinthegods - for introducing me to this band; I didn't know they existed before I read her 'glitter in the air' oneshot 'ghosts'. Yes, his music is inspiring. The opening and closing lyrics, then, belong solely to Radical Face - I have no claim to them.

I like to think of this as symbolic. You decide.

Dedication: To Erin (SisterGrimmErin). Happy Incredibly-Belated Birthday, dearest. And thank you.


Let The River In

(or, Burning My Bridges)

'Bridges become frames for looking at the world around us.'

-Bruce Jackson


I closed my eyes and saw my father's sins
They covered me like a second skin
I peeled them off, and sure I bled a bit

But now I'm free to sink my own damn ship


You don't need to do this, I told you. But you - with your stubbornness and strength and pent-up anger and frustration – you went inside anyway.

You meant to tiptoe through the house like you always did: slip in and slip out like a ghost through the night. You've done this before, you told me, and I believed that this time would be no different. That like all the other times you slipped in and slipped out you'd flit through the window back again as if you'd never gone.

And so I let you.

There was a light in the upstairs window and I remembered you said that at this time of night there never was anyone awake. She's by herself, you said. She'll be asleep. And I believed you and so I shut my eyes to the light in the window even though a persistent nagging feeling in my gut told me this time, you were wrong.

And so I waited by the window and you disappeared inside, wraithlike, and when you appeared again at the door – come in, you said – and I came in, because there was no reason not to. Not while you were there, your teeth blinding white against the darkness. Come in, you said.

And so I did.

And we tiptoed into your kitchen and you sat us down – wait, you told us, I'll be right back – and so we sat, and I looked around the kitchen and watched the ghost of the child you had been dance on the peeling linoleum. Your white teeth flashed against the darkness – two incisors missing – and I ignored the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me to get you out of here while I still could.

We sat and listened to the sound of your laughter echo through the cavity of that kitchen: lovely golden ghostly laughter echoing through countless summers and then drifting away and disappearing entirely.

And then the lights flickered on, and - even though the house was still quiet – I could hear water thundering, like a river exploding against a dam – and the voice in my head told me to get you out of here as fast as I could before it was too late. But you hadn't come back and you'd told us to stay.

And so I waited.

And the little ghost-child that had been you smiled sadly at me from its perch on the kitchen counter and I sat, tense and fidgety and impatient, because I knew you, and you'd never taken this long before. And all the while the roaring grew louder and louder and the voice harder to ignore –

-and then the shouting started. And so I tiptoed to the kitchen door and I saw – I saw her – her flyaway blond hair wispy and wild and a grin stretching her thin sallow face. And her smile was just like yours. Have a biscuit, dear, she said. You're going to be a while, she told me. Sit down. And she was humming as she entered the kitchen and bent by the little blonde girl sitting at the table and I looked past the door and I saw you standing in the middle of the living room.

And the pounding grew louder because you were shouting and you had said you wouldn't be long. I'll be right back, you said. We'll be in and out before you know it. And I believed you –

-so I waited.

You were angryexhaustedinpain and you closed your eyes and burned all your bridges and you said you were going to leave and you would never look at the man opposite you ever again. I'm free-free-free you said.

And behind me a little blonde girl sat at the kitchen table smiling at the ghost of the boy you had been. And a blonde woman with wispy flyaway hair bandaged her knee and laughed and offered her a cookie -

-and teeth flashed brightly against the darkness –

And all the while the river pounded and roared against my ears and told me to get you out of there before you were swept away entirely. But you said come what may –

-so I waited.

And from across the room I caught your eye and yours flashed and I shuddered because I'm – I was – strong – but I felt like the river in your eyes would drown me entirely.

Let's go, I told you – shouted at you – and the man turned and I saw what you saw and the river caught up with me and clutched at me and I was swept into a frenzy of recklessness and daring.

And I burned my bridges and I told you I would leave with you. I'm free-free-free, I said –

-and behind me a little blonde boy smiled sadly and a little blonde girl stared, wide-eyed, at us and the wispy-haired woman finishing up the binding around her knee. Across the room you grinned a savage, broken grin and the house tumbled down about our ears and we were swept away over rapids downriver – hold on, you said, take my hand and hold on –

-and so I did.

We – you and me and the little blonde girl – drifted down the river away from the dark house with lights blazing from all the windows and behind us the roof caved in as the water poured inside.

The ghost of the little boy you had been grinned once – teeth flashing against the dark – before we were swept away backward, a little golden head bobbing in white water.

(And then we ran.)


(So)

Let the river in
If blood is thicker than water
Then let the river in
We might drift a ways, but we've got thick skin

We might drift a ways, but we'll find our way again


'I demolish my bridges behind me – then there is no choice but forward.'

-Firdtjorf Nensen


A/N: Completed for Bookaholic711's Project PULL - check out her profile for more information. Leave a thought!