Lost memories (C)
Feb 18, 2015 2:35:01 GMT -5
Post by Nisa on Feb 18, 2015 2:35:01 GMT -5
THESE LOST MEMORIES
WILL FILL YOUR BREATH WITH SADNESS
WILL FILL YOUR BREATH WITH SADNESS
Jezebel’s words had poisoned her mind. They had infected and took over. Lua could feel their presence constantly. They were sharp and enamoring. Her children were out there, and she was here, without them. Though they were her children, she knew that they were not really her children. They were not the children she had been torn from. They were much different, as a result from that separation. Lua did not blame herself, could not blame herself if she hoped to ever find solace. But she did place blame somewhere, despite it being scattered and half-hearted. Her placing of blame made her feel no better. Like Jezebel’s words, it only provoked more questions and left the mother confused.
She had begun to make a life for herself and her children. Bane, Jonah, and Bukowsky called Kekoa home. It was as much of a home as they had ever known. Its presence in their life far surpassed her own. Lua could not ask them to leave. She refused. Even still, she had never thought of Kekoa as her permanent residence. She had formed relationships with many of its members, but the relationships she sought were with her children. She had always intended to locate them. That the majority of her children happened to be in Kekoa was merely a coincidence. Lua was torn. She could remain in Kekoa with the majority of her children, a stable life. Or she could leave in search of Scarlet and Tarnas, now Stranger, a life that reeked of instability and emotion.
Lua sat in thought as she looked over her children. It was early morning and they had begun to stir. Jonah’s nose twitched as he slept. Lua thought he looked troubled. She rested her muzzle upon his head in hopes of calming him. She could barely gather her own thoughts on her stray children, she could not begin to imagine the thoughts her other children would have. She knew little of their relationships with their siblings after they had been left. She had never asked, for fear of displacing carefully placed emotion. She did not know what they thought of their siblings, nor if they even desired to ever see them again. Lua could barely come to terms with her own desire to see them. She did not want to, she concluded, but had to. She had to see the children that had been taken from her, for they were still her children. She loved them, the memories of them. She concluded that a shred of them must still remain.
Gray light began to pour through the windows. It was a gradual process. Lua could now make out the finer details of the room. She watched the rise and fall of her children’s chests. They moved in synchronicity with one another. Her sons, she thought as she watched them. She could not begin to express the love she had for her sons. They had helped her recreate herself in a way she had not thought possible. She thought of her daughter, who she knew so little about. Scarlet, the name seemed but a whisper, a distant memory long forgotten. No one had told her quite why she had left. No one seemed to know. Lua yearned for the presence of her daughter, who looked so much like her. She shifted where she sat, knowing that Bane and Jonah would soon awake. She would ask them, she decided. She had to know. She had to take the step in piecing her family back together, if such a feat was possible. Lua feared it was not, but thought she at least must try.
They may hate her for it, but if so, Lua would understand why.
EastIF YOU LEAVE THEM BE