This frozen lake,
and the sharp pine needles,
still linger like
its day one,
and the past wasn’t supposed,
to hurt ,
if you didn’t let it,
but I’ve always let it,
and tonight I am lying down,
taking a sip,
of broken stars ,
while its on my mind,
Is this all we have,
all we really are?
~ Saadia
.
My 2nd Blog : http://thehabitatofhealth.wordpress.com/
Happiness has begun to hurt my chest
an unwelcome intruder
an unexpected guest, Continue reading “Broken Wings”
How far do we go before
progress only feels like decay,
And words spoken a million years ago
feel like they hurt only yesterday.
The road is rugged and all paths worn
But it is hard to kill the human spirit
It wanders till it finds its way
Only to rest below the ground.
I will go walk this way too
but I’ll try to find myself
on the way down,
Because death is nothing but
a kiss of finality
The grave, nothing but coming home.
~ Saadia
Would you kiss steel
Or play with fire?
It will dampen your soul
Or brighten the foyer,
Would you let the dead ,
Harden your skin,
Or the sizzling vitae,
Turn you to dust from within?
Would you stay unharmed ,
But intimately intimidated,
Or kiss the life that feeds
On a grey core of ashes?
~ Saadia
Read the first part of this story here :Dusk and Darkness
Xavier had shot his first arrow at 5 years of age and today, after 13 years his iron tipped arrow didn’t fail him. In a clean swish, it buried itself into Digon’s chest and he disappeared in a swirl of black fragments , a sign of wreckage.
Xavier looked paler than usual, his coal black eyes rimmed with scarlet , the red of sleepless nights, strain and sometimes, of nightmares.
“He wasn’t the last one. They won’t stop till their dimension finally spreads into ours. The Dark is coming and that too, faster than I expected it to” said Xavier rubbing his eyes. I swatted his hand away, one of the many times I had to remind him not to rub them raw.
A bell rang somewhere in my mind and I thought of Frank, the head of the Department of Investigation and Assistance.
“Has Frank found any clue of the movement of the Ethereal?”
The Ethereal were a tribe of half-Assassins born from supernova , who appeared to only those in need of heavenly assistance . While Assassins controlled the spread of the dimension of Dusk, the Ethereal helped them here and there. By here and there I mean once in maybe a decade.
“The Ethereal aren’t showing themselves at the moment. They tend not to mix with Dusk slaves, it pollutes them, just like it sucks out the human parts of our being, slowly but surely. Frank needs to think of a different line of attack,” claimed Xavier.
The Ethereal were meant to help us and they were hiding their faces like we were not a bunch of Assassins in need of life saving but a handful of kale needing a massage. That too quite literally.
“ Over 35 Assassins need his help as of now and he can’t help himself or in this case, any of us.”
This was the thing about Xavier; he tackled problems like one might deal with mathematics, analytically and unemotionally, like any of it didn’t have a power to affect him. But I wasn’t him, this scenario daunted me in the least but I silenced my fears. Xavier hardly associated with people who suffered from scareius infectius and I didn’t want to be one of them.
…………………………………………
Xavier sat, polishing his arrows while I searched the Dursen manor. It was a neatly kept house with no hint of suspicions but then again, reality is almost always wrong. I looked through the drawers, the kitchen cabinets, under the chimney , behind the fireplace but found nothing that would suggest alignment with the Dusk Queen. Perhaps , the deal was made shortly before we’d arrived. The only thing I did manage to do was to get a considerable amount of soot on my clothes and some on my face. Good going.
I stepped outside and a muscle in Xavier’s face quirked .
‘What’s so funny?’
“You can’t seem to undertake a task without severe repercussions.”
“Haha. Very amusing.”
I began to rub at my face, trying to preserve a bit of dignity in front of Xavier. He never looked disheveled and scars only gave him substance.
“Let me do it,” he said, standing up and plunging something into the fountain water. It was a crimson bandanna . He began to dab the grime on my forehead , my jaw and my chin. I tensed . Xavier never did these kind of things , he liked to be free from care but who knew how many days we were going to have . It could be a month or maybe a few weeks.
He leaned in suddenly and a breath hitched in my throat . But he pulled away just as suddenly, seemingly regaining poise. I shrugged off the hesitation, remembering that Xavier had always been the withdrawing kind, distancing himself from all things ‘attachment.’
“Let’s run down to Poppy’s,” he was saying now .
I said something like “Uh-huh”.
God.
to be continued…
~ Saadia
P.s. My blog has been unresponsive for weeks now- some technical problem, but I think that I’m finally figuring it out . Please don’t lose faith in me just as yet. Hope you enjoyed this 🙂 ❤
How can a person hate others
when he never learnt to love himself
Can a person laugh at a homeless man
when he doesn’t have a home in his house?
How can I calm you down,
clear whatever you doubt of me,
when I never learnt to quieten this heart.
~Saadia
Burnt.
Reflections 