Frail Pages

Whispers from the grave.

The flesh is gone but the spirit remains.

Father said I should stop.

He said I shouldn’t hurt so many people.
I wasn’t hurting them. I was setting them free.
I was seeking the treasures in their mind.

I love knowledge.

Father never understood me.
Always staring. Always silent. Never once was he proud of me.

I accomplished so much Father, why couldn’t you JUST BE PROUD OF ME!

When I first learned I could touch the weave, that it was me, who was special and not my brother. That bothered you, didn’t it Father.

Well, I hope your happy now. I am as silent as you are. Who knew it would be a touch on the cheek that would do me in? Maybe if you would have tried that we never would have ended up here? But you didn’t did you. Always cold. Born of Fire, but always cold.

I almost had them singing though. One ducked behind some crates, you know, the ones where I keep my failures. I’m certain I sent him to the shadows. One can never tell though. Sometimes, they cling to last gasps and all that. Always better to keep trying. Just to be safe.

Another summoned a centipede of sorts, that was mildly amusing wasn’t it father. They cut your head off too. But you didn’t need that for your silent condemnation now do you? Even now, we are both on the same side of the great divide and yet your silence remains.

The one, she too was born of fire, a different fire, but she too seeks knowledge, like I do. Well, perhaps not like I do, Father. I’m special in that way. You just won’t admit it. She was the one who sent me to the shadows, I am the one to join the chorus now.

I wonder if they found my journal and the useless notes in the back. I hope they awakened my friends. I want to see them again, maybe we could sing together, here in the dark. Wouldn’t that be nice Father?


Seanachai Seanachai

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