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literature

forgotten and punished - FoD 2020

seepranne's avatar
By seepranne   |   
0 1 35 (1 Today)
Published: May 15, 2020
    The line of people and kukuri alike crawled across the scenery. Its speed varied, when some paid their tributes for the newly hatched, young, eternal goddess swiftly, and others took their time. A gentle wind stroked its soft brush across Deaths statue's surface, removing a petal or two every so often from the wreaths they were attached to. Flying, orange petals were especially fascinating to young pups, which ran after them as excitedly as they did when they spotted a butterfly. Today was surprisingly warm, considering the time of year. Spring was knocking on Winter's door, but it wasn't so clear if she was earlier than intended.

    I lifted my eyes from the mottled, recovering grass. As the huge statue's lifeless eyes met mine I instinctively grabbed the skin on my chest. Trying to swallow the imaginary thorns imbedded into my throat, I took steps forwards and lowered my gaze. A warm breeze rustled through my mane; it made me shiver. As the group before me left beside the statue's pedestal, I slowly took their place. Those in line stood still, waiting for their turn about ten meters away. It gave an opening and slight sense of privacy for tributes. I lowered my tearful eyes, opening my empty palms before them. The fear of rejection and failure ransacked through my whole being, nesting itself into my lungs. It became harder to breathe and my vision started to blur.

    I had nothing for him.

    My eyes pinched shut as I heard footsteps. They were heavy on the softening ground, yet their pace was light and confident. I ever so slightly turned my head, if I could just get a glimpse from the corner of my eye. He stopped only a few meters away from me, glancing at his wrist. He never had a watch, but I never questioned the behavior.
    "Good morning", his calm voice echoed within a clear radius on the small opening, silencing everything else around. I quickly turned my head back to face the statue. It was as if his whole being radiated just utter, simple, suffocating silence. It muffled out crowds, birds, the wind; even my own breath. However, he wasn't too keen on silence himself. I hadn't answered him. I felt in my spine as he tilted his head, rising his brow. He always did that.
    "Prince Uldren. Morning", I uttered softly. He sneered.
    "There we go." The Awoken Prince took the remaining steps to stand beside me. In his right hand he carried a cane; a cane I had never seen before on the Other Side. He planted its end right next to me, only inches away. He didn't need it to aid his feet. It always felt oppressing in a way I could not explain. The cane felt like it was emphasizing something, something else than his overwhelming presence. Every time I met him, it changed its shape. Today, it was a clean, off white spine; I couldn't tell its owner's species. Inside the vertebrae loomed a translucent, shimmering, ruby like core. Between the Prince's fingers peeked a small, horribly malformed carnivore skull with at least three mouths, dozens of teeth and multiple eye holes; one of which had a red gem imbedded inside. That cane; it was the only thing about him that ever felt off for me.

    I turned my eyes to him, but only just; just enough to see him in my peripheral vision. I felt my heart skipping beats regularly, in sync with my doubtful thoughts about him. His way of… knowing made me anxious; as if he knew the things I did not want to hear, and knowing them only to spit them out on my face like boiling hot oil. But maybe he just knew me that well; but was it even possible? As the cruel chance washed me to the Shore, I clung at everything and anything I could; I needed a purpose more than I needed oxygen. In that surreal, strange, foreign land I had no place to go or a goal to pursue.  The Prince was that purpose; to aid him, to protect him.

    The thing was, I ended up feeling, instead of just executing.

    I fell for him, even if I tried not to. I cared about him more than myself. I craved for his touch, anything that would matter; a proud palm on a shoulder, or a comforting embrace… but he did not care about me. He only cared about that bitch inside his head and the goals she set for him. I would've died for him without a single moment of hesitation, and still-
    "You forgot about me." His calm, ice cold voice tore through my thoughts like a serrated knife. I turned to him, very clearly panicking.
    "No!" I tried to cover up my pathetic mistake as he took steps back; to make sure not to touch me. "I would never!" I raised my voice and got only a dry chuckle as a reply.
    "You were always such a terrible liar." His words grew thorns, claws that shredded through my throat, gnawing at my eyelids and eardrums. I couldn't protest; he had silenced me.
    "Why else would you be here? A festival of your kind, dedicated to Death!" The Awoken gestured at the huge statue of our Goddess. My body told me to flee, but instead I was frozen in place, shrinking in size every passing moment. My eyes were fixated to his own, as their glow burned my cornea like a blowtorch. My throat was dry and sealed shut and my legs stiff as a deceased frozen fox; there was no avoiding the confrontation. I was a massive beast, cowering in front of the one I loved the most. Every word was like a knife that made a wound of truth I did not question. I had forgotten him. He was the only one I had lost that mattered. I thought he died; I was delusional. He never became what he hated the most. He was here, with me, to never leave. I wasn't thinking straight; I never was.

    Then the hurricane of blades that surrounded his whole being was interrupted by a familiar face.
© 2020 seepranne
this is definitely not finished, but the deadline is breathing down my neck so i don't really have a choice. i hope that i'll have the will to come back to this and finish it, and submit two other literature pieces to accompany it like i had planned originally. i hate it that my inability to start and finish things made the beautiful thought of ditching weekly deadlines be a royal fuckery for me. i wish i was normal lol.

Word count: 1035
Main Kuku: Ranka 6287
+2 FP FoD bonus

Comments1
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momma-kuku's avatar

In the privacy, each kuku get's in order to pay their respect, Ranka surely had quite the meeting. No one get's forgotten, even in Death, those we love never truly leave us.

For honoring Death you receive:

Festival of Death 2018 - Feather

~Dark