Post by Brownie on Jun 11, 2017 11:37:14 GMT -5
For all they knew, the world was perfect.
"Vrael died to save us from evil."
They watched, but could not see.
"Vrael sacrificed Himself to save us from sin."
They listened, but could not hear.
"Vrael gave his life so that we could live in peace."
They did not know that outside the Light, the world had begun to change.
"Vrael gave us the Light! Vrael gave us everything we are. All hail Vrael!"
"All hail Vrael!" they cried.
This was before their perfect world began to fall.
- - -
Her name is June. And, like all the others, she is broken.
Her fur is a dusty grey flecked with darker spots, ashes of the dead sprinkled upon earth long sallow. Her paws are brushed with creamy white the color of bleached bones, her eyes carved of ice.
She hides her fear behind a gait filled with the deepest sense of purpose that can only come from having no purpose at all. Her smile flickers, a grimace of happiness.
She holds her head high as she moves through the hall: past crumbled braziers devoid of light, past banners hissing as their broken tails scrape the old stone walls, past the line of cats bowed in vigil.
She looks but doesn't see, listens but cannot hear, whole yet broken.
This is June as she walks to her death.
- - -
He stands before the Light, trying desperately to peer through the barrier to the world beyond.
It rose like a curtain of sunbeams, golden and crackling with power. He doesn't try to see the top; he knows it to be a dome, curling inward beyond the limits of his sight.
He presses closer, closer, feeling the heat of the Light on his nose. It burns hot and painful, but maybe, maybe the pain would allow him to see, to catch a glimpse of the world. A world where the Light didn't reach, where the world was torn with sin and destruction.
He watches and he watches, but eventually he has to pull away. He blocks the cries of his heart, forces his paws to bring him back along the path he came, ignores the disappointment, swallows the screams of sorrow rising in his throat sour and thick as bile.
He wonders if cats on the outside needed to die in order to live.
- - -
Becca is the last one to see her.
The echoes of pawsteps fade as she waits before the pile of ash. It is warm, but she can feel tendrils of cold creep through her fur when she caresses it with a paw. She waits until the last of the warmth slips away, watches the two chips of ice melt from the cold. She stares into these newborn oceans in awe, wondering how she could have been blind to such depths.
"June," she whispers, her voice the essence of silence. She buries her nose into the cold, grey fur, torn between what she knew and what she knows.
in her heart, Fate quietly stirs.
- - -
"Why are you here, Lucien?" she asks.
"I'm trying to see," he replies.
"To the Outside?"
"If we were Outside, Becca, June would not have died."
"Are you crazy? The Outside is full of evil and destruction. Vrael died to give us the Light--"
"Becca, I think the world has changed."
She pauses, looks. "Can you see it?"
"No, but I think I saw. A long time ago. . ."
"What did it look like, Lucien? What did you see?"
"I saw water. Not like our lake, but water as far as the eye could see."
Becca sits beside him, peering out into the Light. Oceans. . .
"Lucien," she says, quietly. "I think I saw that too."
- - -
They walk to the center of the dome, the place of the crumbling tower, the place where Vrael died.
They walk down the hall: past crumbled braziers devoid of light, past banners hissing as their broken tails scrape the old stone walls, past the shadows of cats who died in Vrael's name.
They walk to the stone, flat, grey, lifeless.
They walk to June, flat, grey, lifeless.
They walk to June, saw the living oceans in her dead eyes.
They walk to June and they can see.
- - -
"The Light doesn't exist!" Lucien screams.
"Our world is not perfect!" Becca exclaims.
"Follow us to see the truth!" they cry, their desperate voices falling upon deaf ears.
Yet, miraculously, they broken ones follow.
- - -
"The Light doesn't exist, our world is not perfect," Lucien says to the crowd.
"Vrael died, but did not save us. We do not need to die to survive," Becca calls out.
"We can leave," Lucien mews.
"I will leave," Becca answers, standing beside the Light, "the world has changed! And so have I!"
"We are no longer blind!" they say in unison, and step through the Light to the world.
- - -
They are torn.
Torn between who they are and who they were.
Torn between what they knew and what they know.
Torn between their thoughts and their dreams.
They are torn between the past and the future, the lies and the truth.
The world had changed, Becca had changed, Lucien had changed.
Can we change? they wonder.
They are torn.
Yet, miraculously, the broken ones follow.
"Vrael died to save us from evil."
They watched, but could not see.
"Vrael sacrificed Himself to save us from sin."
They listened, but could not hear.
"Vrael gave his life so that we could live in peace."
They did not know that outside the Light, the world had begun to change.
"Vrael gave us the Light! Vrael gave us everything we are. All hail Vrael!"
"All hail Vrael!" they cried.
This was before their perfect world began to fall.
- - -
Her name is June. And, like all the others, she is broken.
Her fur is a dusty grey flecked with darker spots, ashes of the dead sprinkled upon earth long sallow. Her paws are brushed with creamy white the color of bleached bones, her eyes carved of ice.
She hides her fear behind a gait filled with the deepest sense of purpose that can only come from having no purpose at all. Her smile flickers, a grimace of happiness.
She holds her head high as she moves through the hall: past crumbled braziers devoid of light, past banners hissing as their broken tails scrape the old stone walls, past the line of cats bowed in vigil.
She looks but doesn't see, listens but cannot hear, whole yet broken.
This is June as she walks to her death.
- - -
He stands before the Light, trying desperately to peer through the barrier to the world beyond.
It rose like a curtain of sunbeams, golden and crackling with power. He doesn't try to see the top; he knows it to be a dome, curling inward beyond the limits of his sight.
He presses closer, closer, feeling the heat of the Light on his nose. It burns hot and painful, but maybe, maybe the pain would allow him to see, to catch a glimpse of the world. A world where the Light didn't reach, where the world was torn with sin and destruction.
He watches and he watches, but eventually he has to pull away. He blocks the cries of his heart, forces his paws to bring him back along the path he came, ignores the disappointment, swallows the screams of sorrow rising in his throat sour and thick as bile.
He wonders if cats on the outside needed to die in order to live.
- - -
Becca is the last one to see her.
The echoes of pawsteps fade as she waits before the pile of ash. It is warm, but she can feel tendrils of cold creep through her fur when she caresses it with a paw. She waits until the last of the warmth slips away, watches the two chips of ice melt from the cold. She stares into these newborn oceans in awe, wondering how she could have been blind to such depths.
"June," she whispers, her voice the essence of silence. She buries her nose into the cold, grey fur, torn between what she knew and what she knows.
in her heart, Fate quietly stirs.
- - -
"Why are you here, Lucien?" she asks.
"I'm trying to see," he replies.
"To the Outside?"
"If we were Outside, Becca, June would not have died."
"Are you crazy? The Outside is full of evil and destruction. Vrael died to give us the Light--"
"Becca, I think the world has changed."
She pauses, looks. "Can you see it?"
"No, but I think I saw. A long time ago. . ."
"What did it look like, Lucien? What did you see?"
"I saw water. Not like our lake, but water as far as the eye could see."
Becca sits beside him, peering out into the Light. Oceans. . .
"Lucien," she says, quietly. "I think I saw that too."
- - -
They walk to the center of the dome, the place of the crumbling tower, the place where Vrael died.
They walk down the hall: past crumbled braziers devoid of light, past banners hissing as their broken tails scrape the old stone walls, past the shadows of cats who died in Vrael's name.
They walk to the stone, flat, grey, lifeless.
They walk to June, flat, grey, lifeless.
They walk to June, saw the living oceans in her dead eyes.
They walk to June and they can see.
- - -
"The Light doesn't exist!" Lucien screams.
"Our world is not perfect!" Becca exclaims.
"Follow us to see the truth!" they cry, their desperate voices falling upon deaf ears.
Yet, miraculously, they broken ones follow.
- - -
"The Light doesn't exist, our world is not perfect," Lucien says to the crowd.
"Vrael died, but did not save us. We do not need to die to survive," Becca calls out.
"We can leave," Lucien mews.
"I will leave," Becca answers, standing beside the Light, "the world has changed! And so have I!"
"We are no longer blind!" they say in unison, and step through the Light to the world.
- - -
They are torn.
Torn between who they are and who they were.
Torn between what they knew and what they know.
Torn between their thoughts and their dreams.
They are torn between the past and the future, the lies and the truth.
The world had changed, Becca had changed, Lucien had changed.
Can we change? they wonder.
They are torn.
Yet, miraculously, the broken ones follow.
/j