Author Topic: Sins of a Savelievich  (Read 411 times)

Blissey

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Sins of a Savelievich
« on: July 30, 2020, 05:48:19 AM »
Quote
THE WOLVES ARE SATED
THE SHEEP ARE INTACT


I.

Late in the night, when the winds howl and shake our home, the disease would seize me. Like venom, I could feel it riding up through my flesh. I could feel it's gnawing teeth clamping down, it's blunted ends piercing and soiling the marrow of my bones. Mother would balm my decaying flesh, wrapping it oh so tenderly with a maternal grace. She would hold my frail form to her chest, to hear the gentle drum of her heart.

Drum-ta-drum-ta-drum-ta-drum.

"Mama, will I die soon?"

I would ask her time and time again, and each time, I saw the wound I bore into her heart through her eyes. How they glinted with a glaze of mist, how the gentle drum of her heart fluttered, then hastened.

"Never, my little cub."

The first few lies eased me. They dulled my mind and its questions. But each time my head laid against her bosom, listening to her heart, asking if I will die, the desire for truth made my decayed flesh ache moreso. While she could see the wounds on my hand, she could see the white of my bones, the sickly green patches of flesh clumping then falling away, she did not see the wounds in my eyes. The same wounds I saw in hers.

I would dream of times where her heart still rang that gentle drum, she whispered to me,

"You will die, my little cub."

In that dream, I am given peace. I let the disease swallow me whole. I am but a skeleton now, lacking the flesh that hid the bones in my body. My lithe, rail-thin bones holding her close. She would rest her head against my ribcage, listening to the feeble drum of my failing heart.

Drum-ta-drum-ta-drum-ta-drum.

"Little cub, will I die without you?"

She asked me, yet I felt that wound again, even with no flesh left for the disease to eat. I felt my heart flutter, I felt it hasten.

"Never, mama."

I lie to her as the dreamscape collapsed, as I awaken to the sound of howling wind and searing pain.

Sometimes, we lie for peace, we lie to give hope. But sooner or later, we look past those woeful lies, we see those that truly feel peace. We see how they thrive. We wish to lie and give that hope forever, but the wolves cannot be sated while the sheep remain intact.

Bring me home, let me hear your heart again. Lie to me until I take my last breath, mama.

« Last Edit: August 01, 2020, 04:16:10 AM by Blissey »