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| Left For Damnation Posted by: Þáñdørá ™ at 09-09-2014 19:00 PM, Last Modified 09-09-2014 19:00 PM |
Elation poured through her veins, strung together in haphazard, feverish euphoria. It begged for release, taut and tense, zealous, exotic tendrils of rapture, glee, and delight. Like a child, she was a dancing fool, clinging to the drifting wind with amplified relish, sinking into the weight of existence with a light heart, and not the snatching perils of wreckage. The ardor pervaded her elegant movements, made limbs arch higher, ensured carriage was swifter, proclaimed nymph motions in the day’s sultry swing behind Pandora’s sure-footed, broad steps. For all her faults, flaws, and imperfections, the youth was finally finding another shelter, a home. Another traversed with them too, cerulean and silver, etched in a pattern of unmistakeable mist, claimed from withering thresholds, about to embark on her own journey. It dazzled Lena, drew awe from her breath – that she would be allowed this second chance, not in the traces of damnation, but in the glorious sinew of hope – her soul was touched, devoted and inspired from the possibility of tranquility, the essence of virtue, the quintessence of morality softly ensconced within a terrain. But when they arrived, serenity was not in place.
Her imagination had courted and conjured winding, secretive glades with the sun’s beams a luminescent splendor, endless boughs reaching toward the heavens. She had dreamed of broad leaves sheltering vivid, colorful bodies from the heat, long wavering grasses tickling knees, shadows drifting overhead that did not whisper heated, scandalous secrets, but mere promises of delight. She had thought of spring storms with their heavy rain, mist surrounding a verdant stretch of hills and cliffs like an abysmal moor, and they could all get lost in the enigma of fog. She had surmised dwindling evenings by the shore, sunsets lighting the sea into an array of grand hues – splendor, opulence, lavished across the land. When the moon arrived, they would all waltz across the high-rising dunes, taste the salty brine, cackle with the soaring gulls. In the depths of winter they would bow their heads in the thick, graceful forest, smell of pine amidst the rapturous, glittering splendor of snowfall, move like flakes in the wind, huddle together when the chill haunted even the thickest of coats. The possibilities of a home had reawakened her mind to the whimsical hymns of her fantasies, the regal, noble, cherished moments that she had always hoped to obtain. What she saw here only evoked heartache.
Dreams had not come true. Her voice became a tuneless march, layered and torn from her mouth just to rid the world of the overbearing silence. The assured forest had become a fire’s marionette, charred, burned, and destroyed. Devastation rancorously spilled from each hollowed threshold, lofty corridors of ash, soot and grime, gangly passages of broken, withering limbs. Havoc dripped like a delicate, searing poison, decaying the earth with a scathing, simmering cruelty, malice and vehemence festering in yesterday’s wholesome, brilliant life. Like a monster clawing through bracken, the wrecked portal had suffered from a senseless travesty and tragedy, shattered, cracked, split into columns of barely standing pillars, toppled giants and decrepit heralds. It was the demise of resplendence, majesty and magnificence left with naught but an empty, fractured scar screaming in its wake. There, before her eyes, was only an anguished, grim sign of sinister upheaval, of callous mutiny, violent insurrection, a beating, crashing intensity of contempt. And she, another child of ruin, didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know where to direct her anger, this mottled, ugly, horrendous thing coiled inside of her, and she didn’t know where to place her grief, this newcomer’s hope, while dismayed and distorted, could not possibly measure a underworld member’s fury, ire, and sorrow. Who could do such a thing? What layer of brutality do we hold here? Her posture conveyed her sentiments, like a broken bird she contorted her head neatly downward, eyes settling on a piece of ash that had been tossed by the hot, sickening wind and now laid at her feet, withdrawn and aloof. She was not disappointed in the destruction of her illuminations, but by the raw, brazen mayhem spread across a once strong land. Her voice stirred again, stronger than the first, and as her visage was raised towards Aurelius, an air of defiance rippled, silken, across her features. The strong, beautiful definition was not marred, but ever more vivid, as her eyes glanced towards the mottled bits of tarnished embers and wondered how to restore it. "What happened?”
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