Like you’re less than…

After striving for the perfection of the pure glass,
failure is all that can be obtained
and the disappointment is world class
to choke the throat as a heavy mass
It scratches and claws, so easily seen,
leaving mind and body both stained
with the treacherous filth which should be clean
This is the day when imperfection reigns

Swallowing back the broken dream,
tumultuous and smooth, with jagged edges
apparent like the bizarre scream,
now setting up the long lasting regime
that no one else seems to notice despite how
each and every flaw alleges
to shatter into splinters and rip apart somehow
This is the day when imperfection reigns

Finger by finger, pushing it back
only for the shard to dig into each inch
and the air has begun to turn black,
lungs slack,
when there is no hiding the flaw
Don’t even flinch,
for only you’re holding the painful awe
This is the day when imperfection reigns

The fragments catch the light
the residue of the dreams taken flight
the colours more dazzling than what you first held in your veins
This is the day when imperfection reigns

Reflection on a simple thought

If it weren’t for a whim, they would have been in the city when the soldiers came.

“If you three are going to roughhouse, you’ll do so in the field.”

The eldest looked put out, but the two younger boys looked ecstatic. Their sister smoothed out her vest. “We’ll behave, won’t-”

“Field! Field!” The boys ran outside.

She gave me a look and made up my mind. I needed a moment to myself. “Watch your brothers.

Little would I know that decision saved all three of them.

Keeping the peace (inner)

“What did you think?”

Dear lord he sounded conceited, but they had to keep him around for the rest of the event. They smiled, all politeness. “It was wonderful. Thank you again for agreeing to speak here.”

“Well, one couldn’t turn down a request from you… could they?”

They heard the hesitation there. Which aspect was it about? Who knew. They couldn’t think about it now, they had to be polite. “In any case, I’m glad you could accept.”

He took their arm. They resisted the impulse to yank away. “Would you accompany me to dinner?”

“I couldn’t say no.”

Today would continue to go well. They could deal with this.

Not really a white lie

“How is it?”

Her boyfriend had been looking forward to this for a week. She knew how much he had spent preparing. Yet, she sat across from him with her red lipstick on, wondering whether to tell him the truth.

To give herself more time, she put up a finger and popped another piece into her mouth. It felt like solid fire. If only she could keep her face a stone.

He waited with a smile. She really did not want to ruin that. Her hand hovered toward her water. She finally could speak without sounding breathless.

“A little spicy, but delicious.”

Oh, she had made his day, but she was going to suffer for it.

The moment before

The gloves were on.

Someone was at his ear. He knew who, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. Just the words, low and smooth, right under the noise of the crowd. His heart continued to pound in his ears. Art the opposite corner, he stared at his opponent.

The other man stared back, one eye swollen red.

He grinned. They both reentered the ring.

The sword

She didn’t know how to hold the sword.

Both hands reached out, gripping the hilt. The blade was long, thin, and embedded in the back of her father. She pulled it up and out. It changed nothing but the amount of blood which continued to spread across the floor, sinking in. A stain in the straw, under her feet.

One of those feet stepped back, turned out. The sword shook in front of her face, sharp edge dripping her father’s life down to her hands. A stain on her skin, under her skin.

The shadowed form rose on the other side of the room, framed in the moonlight.

She trembled, but held her ground.

But he never did

“Please find him, Fletcher. Oh please, please find him.”

​While there were many things he could have done, Fletcher know he could not disobey the Baroness. For more reason than one. Perhaps more important than the fact she had commanded it (asked it, pleaded it) was the knowledge that her son was likely at the orphanage.

There were many children to save. Fletcher rushed there with no hesitation. And while he helped them evacuate, he learnt something terrible.

He was not there. Neither were Winter and Summer. Dahlia. The boy Golden. A few other children. They had gone further toward the shore to play.

Fletcher ran.