Prompt: xeranthemum: eternity, immortality
Originally written: April 8, 2014
Notes: part of a flower prompt meme on tumblr; thanks to ff dot net for not preserving the formatting
They say she ascended, but really it was—
strapped to a pole too rigid for the curves of her spine, unable to pull away from the flames licking at her feet, insistent, first sharp and then deep and lingering pain, skin crackling and peeling and disappearing in smoke and the smoke, the prickling tears in her dry eyes and the sting in her nose and the frantically growing desire to breathe, a thirst for air, for one last glimpse of the sky she loves—
and she swore she would be brave, but this—
she longs to breathe deeply enough to fall asleep, to let the fire consume her inside and out, but her stubborn lungs cough out the smoke, a welcome distraction from the last searing sense that she cannot feel her toes—
she does not see the sword till it has pierced the flames, and the sharp clean agony of it runs through her heart and her blood is wild, wild, racing through her veins to pour forth from its prison and suddenly it is slow and dark and she can no longer—
anything—
nothing—
everything—
light.