“Body,” I plead. “Create.”
“No,” Came her reply.
“Body,” I plead. “Stay.”
“Why?” She asked me.
“Though I forsake you I tremble at the thought of losing you Do not leave me alone.”
“Prove it. Make me see it with my eyes And hear it with my ears.”
I sigh Like the stars do at sunrise. “Body, You dance more wonderfully than grass in the wind Your song is more spectacular than fractured light Only you could fit me within your skin But most of all You were the only one Brave enough To love me
“Fine,” Body smiles. “I will do as you ask, But nothing more.”
I sigh Like the stars do at sunset.
It’s not supposed to happen this way It’s not It’s not It’s not
Tell me again what I’m supposed to remember I forgot I forgot I forgot
My heart won’t beat for me anymore It rots It rots It rots
Your dreams they ring like bells in my ears That gunshot That gunshot That gunshot
You promised it’d never happen again I thought I thought I thought
“You’re a riot,” she laughed, holding her hand close to her mouth.
“A riot, huh?” He cocked a brow. “That’s a new one, I’ll admit.”
The girl’s laughter morphed to surprise. “Really? You’re hilarious! I thought everyone knew.”
He shrugged. “If some people aren’t that bright, there’s nothing we can do about it,” he said with a sigh.
“You think I’m bright,” she grinned. She had a cat-like smile. Her date looked away, keeping his smile for himself.
“Did I say that? How embarrassing.”
“Are you always such an interesting conversation piece?” She asked, leaning forward in her seat. She was hard to brush off.
“Interesting conversation piece is my middle name.”
They called it “The Island.” It was a utopia designed to combine those who could wield water and those whose magic rested in the earth.
Stilted houses stood on clay supports, decorated in a minimalistic fashion. The buildings were constructed with simple materials such as wood and clay.
Water users could walk on the water, but hundreds of boats lined the street corners for everyone else.
The salty smell of the sea swamped every edge of the city. Fish were a local delicacy, eaten in every household. The squawking of the seagulls was as good of an alarm as any alarm clock.
It was an island in the middle of the ocean, perfect for fishermen and sailors.
“Si..?” Percy murmured, staring in horror at the boy he called his lover.
Simon tore himself away from the girl, shoving her hands and lips away from him. “Percy! It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”
With tears of hurt welling up in his eyes, Percival spun on his heel and stormed out of the house. He broke into a run, beelining for his home despite the distance.
“Percy! Stop! Listen to me!”
Curse Simon’s ability to run. “I’m not speaking to you, Simon! Leave me alone!” Percy snapped, aggressively wiping his tears from his freckled cheeks.
“I promise you, it wasn’t my fault! She made me do it!” Simon pleaded, nearly crying as well.
“It’s her fault you kissed her back? Just admit you love her and that you don’t love me.”
“I do love you! I really, truly, do! Her father is going to marry her off to a cruel man, and she was afraid. I told her I couldn’t marry her in his place, and she kissed me. I pitied her,” Simon explained, now moving to block Percy’s path.
“Your heart is too big for your own good.” Percy kept his gaze firmly at his feet. Simon rested his hand on his shoulder.
“I am sorry, Percy. It was never meant to happen, and it never will again.”
“Am I not enough? I do not fill you up enough. I do not take up all the space in your heart, do I?” Percy said, eyes still fixed on the ground, tears coming slower. Betrayal morphed into anger.
“No! That’s not it! Of course you are enough! No one can bring me joy like you!”
“Give it up, Simon,” Percy spat, finally meeting Simon’s charcoal gaze. “Genevieve knows now, that we are this way. She’ll be quick to tell her father, and our names will be tarnished for good.”
“Percy…”
“It’d be best if we did not speak anymore.”
All that was left… was ten steps. Ten steps was all it would take to finish things. Life did not exist beyond that border. The end of the world stood before him, staring at him fearlessly, devotedly.
His heart refused to cross alongside him. It tugged and pulled at his feet, begging him to stay where he was safe. The redness of his eyes betrayed his fear.
He had family. A mother, who would drag him back with her bare hands if she were here. A father, who’d surely try to lecture some sense into his mad child.
But someone sat on the other side of that border, on withered grass and rotting soil. Tears stained their face as they watched him. The sickness of the earth beneath them tainted their hands and feet, holding them tight in a cruel embrace.
He could not let them bare that alone.
If the earth was no longer generous, if it wanted back the life it had given to its people, so be it.
He’d whisper the hurt away until it left.
It was supposed to be a waltz, like any other at the gala, but it could no longer be called that.
Fancy heels clicked frantically against the floor like drumbeats. Debris hit the ground like crashing cymbals. The painted walls shook and crumbled, as if jealous of those twirling dancers.
The only person not desperately clawing their way out the door was the pianist, his fingers flying across the keys, left and right and back again in a dramatic swing.
The flinging notes accompanied operatic screams and dancers fleeing with their fanciest footwork.
It was supposed to be a waltz, and the pianist would make it so.
My eyes are glued to the steering wheel, as if I worried it would disappear if I looked away. My hands ball up in my sleeves, soaking them in sweat. I know I’m supposed to breathe slowly, but no amount of air is enough to satisfy my aching lungs. These are not butterflies in my stomach, these are rabid dogs, biting and clawing at my insides.
Do I have to go? I don’t, right? I can stay? I can stay still forever?
I’m too young. I’m too small. I’m not enough, yet. I’ll be ready later, just not yet. Not yet.
Images crash into my mind. Images of broken glass and blood. They crash into me like waves.
Or cars.
My cheeks are hot but my hands are cold. My mother has been calling my name, but I cannot hear her voice beneath the fractured sound of my own.
Sometimes people ask me when I am going to start driving, like everyone else my age.
I simply say, “I don’t care for it yet.”
