((note: some cursing is present in the story))
The Raven and the Dragon Fly
The blood on his hands reminded him of rose petals. And indeed, as the drops landed on the grass flowers began to grow. Colors and designs never before seen curled up and around the now still form at the man’s feet. He reached those crimson hands into the wound he had made and pulled the large muscle free. The beast’s heart was heavy, and large, it barely fit into the metal censer made special, and in secret, for this purpose. He then reached for the wicked dagger and hid it within the folds of his coat. Where the blood touched ruby and gold embroidery wove into the fabric. Even hidden, the cold metal beat a pulse against his chest. The dagger was not of his making and not for this intent but one, he knew, far worse than the taking of a single life.
He reached a hand one last time against the scaled arm of the thing now dead.
“I am sorry, my friend. It is not yours to sentence them to death. With this sacrifice, you will be eternally remembered even when all the rest of us are dust and shadow. You will light the way.”
The glow from the wheel and the river barely reached the garden, but it was enough for his black eyes to see by. The blood on his hands had grown warmer and he reached to rinse them in the still, deep pool. The blood dissolved in the water. The water left the pool flowing to the new flowers, watering them, ensuring their existence but leaving the stone basin empty.
The trill of a mockingbird echoed down the hall. “Time to go,” he whispered.
He carried the heart. It was heavy, this he expected, but not the heat. It would be too hot to handle before long. He paused a moment at the entrance of the garden, standing in the doorway. The wheel could be clearly seen, tall and full of glittering life. He could not tell if it had yet changed. Now that the deed was done, he wondered what the others would do.
Then the doorway was empty. The garden was empty. The wheel continued to turn.
---------
Emma watched the car tumble, her world spinning inside of it. The moment was without sound, as if by holding her breath her ears had ceased to work. Her eyes, though, they took in every part of her rotating world. She saw the flock of sparrows in the clear blue sky. She saw the newly painted yellow of the curb. She saw the “B” was broken on the PUBLIX sign and it made her think of Pollux, her white shepherd. Broken glass caught the light, glittered in the air. She felt weightless. She saw the wall coming closer now and sighed.
“Mother fucker.”
Then her sight was gone.
---------
The white walls talked to him. Not the padding on them though, that fabric was soft and silent, no, the stone beneath. It whispered to him. He caressed the fabric with his cheek, hoping it would pass along his message of love to the voice that told him of fire and blood. Oh, the pain he will have and share with others. Or was it light? Or was it both? Lions and tigers and knife wounds, oh my! He laughed, coughed up a little blood and then laughed some more. Soon, the dark voice said, they would be together soon. As long as he kept wishing and hoping and thinking and praying; Planning, and dreaming, each night, of his charms. He hummed the tune until he was once more dreaming...or was he now awake...he wasn’t sure. And in the end, he didn’t care.
He reached a hand one last time against the scaled arm of the thing now dead.
“I am sorry, my friend. It is not yours to sentence them to death. With this sacrifice, you will be eternally remembered even when all the rest of us are dust and shadow. You will light the way.”
The glow from the wheel and the river barely reached the garden, but it was enough for his black eyes to see by. The blood on his hands had grown warmer and he reached to rinse them in the still, deep pool. The blood dissolved in the water. The water left the pool flowing to the new flowers, watering them, ensuring their existence but leaving the stone basin empty.
The trill of a mockingbird echoed down the hall. “Time to go,” he whispered.
He carried the heart. It was heavy, this he expected, but not the heat. It would be too hot to handle before long. He paused a moment at the entrance of the garden, standing in the doorway. The wheel could be clearly seen, tall and full of glittering life. He could not tell if it had yet changed. Now that the deed was done, he wondered what the others would do.
Then the doorway was empty. The garden was empty. The wheel continued to turn.
---------
Emma watched the car tumble, her world spinning inside of it. The moment was without sound, as if by holding her breath her ears had ceased to work. Her eyes, though, they took in every part of her rotating world. She saw the flock of sparrows in the clear blue sky. She saw the newly painted yellow of the curb. She saw the “B” was broken on the PUBLIX sign and it made her think of Pollux, her white shepherd. Broken glass caught the light, glittered in the air. She felt weightless. She saw the wall coming closer now and sighed.
“Mother fucker.”
Then her sight was gone.
---------
The white walls talked to him. Not the padding on them though, that fabric was soft and silent, no, the stone beneath. It whispered to him. He caressed the fabric with his cheek, hoping it would pass along his message of love to the voice that told him of fire and blood. Oh, the pain he will have and share with others. Or was it light? Or was it both? Lions and tigers and knife wounds, oh my! He laughed, coughed up a little blood and then laughed some more. Soon, the dark voice said, they would be together soon. As long as he kept wishing and hoping and thinking and praying; Planning, and dreaming, each night, of his charms. He hummed the tune until he was once more dreaming...or was he now awake...he wasn’t sure. And in the end, he didn’t care.
