What the hell is a flying green song-rabbit?!
Grongbit (GReen sONG rabBIT) is the result of our nicknames combined. "Our" meaning the three founding authors. The flying comes from our guest-turned-permanent blogger, Butterfly Coffin.
And yes, rabbits can too fly, sing and be green.
Feel free to leave a comment!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Anastasis
I hate it all. Fuck.
What is this?
Fuckity fuck.
No way in. Locked inside, locked outside in.
Mister, sir, may I come in?
Unbroken seals and chains to the earth; land bound, no strait.
There's an axe there, gleaming, take it. Chop, chop, chop.
Down it goes.
Watch the silences crash and thunder.
There's nothing there sir.
Sir?
Sir?
...Sir?
No hand reaches out to you.
The girl watched the whispering veil close in around her. The buzz of conversation floated in from the other side of the door, a quick, desperate hum. There was an audience to attend to.
"You look so beautiful!"
Empty, conventional words from a lack-witted bridesmaid.
"Where is he?"
The blatent glance exchanges contradicted the honey sweet simpers of bustling, immature girls in silvery lilac satin.
She sought the dark hanging of the Maid of Honour.
"He'll...be here. Soon. I'm sure of it."
"This is your day."
I hold no claim over this particular date, as much as any other bride. What damp spirits.
Dread.
Why do I feel nauseous? I'm feeling nauseous.
The brats giggled as they stepped into the resonating hall with a flutter. The Maid of Honour gave her one last, quick kiss before leaving her too.
There was a slight knock; her legally named father with a swift arm movement was by her side, escorting the automatic doll to her present. The door openeds and they stiffly walked out.
Music filled the air immediatedly.
Fitting, she thought bitterly, taking tiny steps towards the gold up front. Her mother cried. Her friends cried. Everyone looked at her adoringly. It was a poor sight.
The footsteps faltered and paused. She looked enquiringly at her father figure.
"Where is he?"
There was detectable hesitation.
"It's just traffic. He'll be here very soon."
She continued her journey.
She started to cry.
Ice. Gripping ice. The room fell cold and desolate despite the warm hues of idle decorations.
It had already been half an hour. The guests frowned and gossiped. Nobody smiled, but held solemn expressions on their prettied up faces.
News in its hated form arrived.
The man's suit did not look like church wedding attire.
"I'm sorry."
"Read it."
The envelope, neatly sealed and untarnished dropped to the aisle. There were no words needed.
Instant uproar.
No.
The note was soon lost to nature taking it's toll upon the earth. The white became part of the grey landscape. She staggered and lost a white suede heel to the mud. The tempest has little mercy on the forlorn figure disappearing from her guests and her wedding.
She came to the road and stopped.
Raindrops were tears and scars were the rising dirt upon prestine.
She gasped for breath, throwing off the corset. The cold made me scream, she swore and cried.
A weeping child.
Her head downcast, as was my soul.
Staring into I.
Do you remember what it was like to have it all taken away?
M, the equilibrium stays on delicate balance.
I want to tip it.
But I won't.
Do you remember?
I feel myself ripping my mind into shreds.
~~~
` S
2 comments:
I don't know why... but darling all i can say is take the plunge.
M.
In a way I'm happy with the way things are.
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