rainbow room - vacant space - lost , lost, lost! what was once there, once safe , was quickly taken. sense of comfort gone. brother gone, sister gone! gone, gone, gone! she had thought them dead, thought this a lost end. thought that perhaps they were not strong enough to withhold the testing that papa had forced these children to endure. thought that perhaps she were the last of them. that she would be stuck here forever. had she not made that break for it, she would have been. would have been stuck , perhaps would have died. no, she had lost far too much to give up now. there would be no end in this story, perhaps a pause , but certainly no end. girl pushed onward, ran as fast as she could. ran away from the place she had called home and the man she had called her father.
the rain grew fierce, grew vicious. a storm raging around her like the storm growing in her core. she was not built to be soft, not built to be quiet. no, she was a hurricane , endless power and destruction. feet carried her onward despite the storm, despite the mud soaked feet and tattered hospital gown that clothed her. goosebumps rose on skin but not enough to stop her. not enough to bring her down. it’s within running, that she hears the rustle in the treeline, seeking further despite hesitation, to discover a handmade fort. something small.
“who’s there?” a low voiced statement, teeth chattering. guard raised. she would not be caught here. // @birdsrot
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ even despite the shackles of a survivor’s amnesia limiting your knowledge, you can remember certain faces better than many. gaunt, weary faces, stained by years of incessant anguish those you had loved & lost. you replay the little things over and over, a timid, somewhat harebrained sense of comfort; it is not safe to reach underneath the thin layer of what you remember & what you are unaware of. from the thin crevices emerge spiders the size of your hand, poisonous bastards, ready to bite & gnaw on the supple meat of your overwrought brain, drained from it all and consumed by pure exhaust : the bad memories, stained by blood and seeping septic pus, those of the grownups, doctors, inimical beings with no scraps of soul to spare. you are foolish enough to reach for the forbidden apple, to shove your hand into a hole swarming with starving, rancorous locusts! --- but there is no elation that follows. the second your eyes flutter shut and brain zones out into the world of the dead, you are attacked by hostile insects, gradually eaten away by heartwrenching fear, until ---
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ a voice. hearing something more than paddling animals is unusual; you are slowly plunging into debris in the apathetic forest of hollow desolation with no one to turn to, no one to beg for food nor pity. a familiar one, at that; it seems to be more of a memory etched into the back of your skull, one you would’ve promptly forgotten if not a strange reminder. you perk up, stare. reach out towards the stick you consider your strongest weapon ( one that terrifies solely the smallest animals, but makes do nonetheless ) and shy away, blankly staring. unspeakable fright encompasses your wasted, depleted self and albeit you attempt to control it and keep its display in a keen grip, your entire body rakes with petrified, well-nigh comical shivers.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ❛ who . . . ❜ you choke out, your tone a thin line between that stained with rage and fright. you don’t want anyone here. it is your place to rot. ❛ you? ❜
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