Friday, February 13, 2009
In her cell there was peace. Silence. Darkness. And the inevitable gloom.
She looked on out of the window. Ignoring the occasional spider that observed her with piqued interest or the various half-wilted blossoms that gazed at her pleadingly, she stared at the raindrops that splattered against the plexiglass. Lifting a finger gently to it, she felt the desultory staccato of pulses as raindrop after raindrop disintegrated upon contact.
How long had it been since she felt the rain on her skin, the clear fresh waters that hydrated her soul, unlike the sterile chemical-laden kind she was provided with. She smiled wistfully at the tranquil scene outside; a blank concrete wall, the asphalt path and the rain that seemed to fall in sheets of gentle grey on the barren plots of soil.
There were times when she was happier. Times when she would dance and sing to the rays of gold together with her floral audience. Times when she would treat spawn of the Machine with her earthy compassion and hospitality. She would pour her heart out, using every iota of her strength and motherly instinct to nurse the young ones that sought refuge with her to health. But as fickle as the cruel weather, the Machine would change, most hideously, into a living maelstrom, intent on destroying her regardless of her care for their kind. She didn't like it, not one bit. Everything was just...much too unpredictable...much too dangerous. And when she returned, beaten and worn from another war with the Machine, she then discovered that her beloved blossoms had been ruined, helplessly massacred by ruthless winds of the storm.
And so fearfully she had retreated into her metallic cell once more, bringing the few survivors in as well. She knew they would never grow well, not even with her touch, cursed to be trapped in a state of ugly injury, in a cell of the Machine without the sun or rain. But at least...
She walked up to them and watered them lovingly, drenching them in the filthy poisons of the Machine.
At least they would be safe inside. No cruelty, no pain, no suffering. No passion, no joy, no vibrancy. Just life in a simple monochromatic grey. Just...like me.
*
Ironman 3rd :)
Tiring yes, bitch-discovery yes, sex talk yes.
And so we're into the semis.
Gah, the week ahead seems unthinkable. Literature and Chemistry? What sort of morbid sadistic combination is that? Oh you haven't even heard of the next one - IHC+Biology.
Great, just great. Because I'm so going to get A1 grr.
I hope?
Dark Memories[5:54 PM]
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