tinymoogledancer:

8. Aureus

8.

Dare’.

Sweeting, I…but what words can I say, truly?

I can think of none. No apology would be enough. I’d beg forgiveness if I knew that would…but it will not. I fear nothing will assuage your grief.

It’s been 4 days, little love. 4 days, and you have neither eaten nor drank anything. Is this what you meant by having no hope? You lie there, prostate before me, like a dead thing. Indeed, something died within you that day, did it not?

You do not yet know, nor understand the bond I…what would you call it? It was not accidental, exactly.

Hmm…haphazard. Yes.

The bond I haphazardly made when I kissed you…it’s the only thing keeping you alive right now.

And the reason for that is because you are…not draining, but…ah. Siphoning. You are siphoning my strength, and I…I have never felt these feelings before.

You see, little love…I can feel what you feel.

I confess I…I have never felt things like hunger or thirst before. I have never felt humiliation, nor grief, nor guilt quite like this. So overwhelming. It crushes me.

And well it should, I agree, after what he did.

What…we did. Have done.

We never should have come back.

Seeing you lay there and not caring when I touched you…it confused and worried me. You usually fight back. You yell, or have a witty retort on tiny, delicate lips.

Now…nothing.

Not even when I stroked your back with my finger. Not even when I lifted you up and sat in front of the hearth. Well, it may not be a hearth as you understand it, but it is a source of heat, light, and comfort, especially in the Winter weather this part of the world.

I settled there with you, and…again, what else could I have said?

All I could do was cradle you against me, and say I am sorry.

And I am. It was my fault. All of it.

T’was my fault my brother killed her.

You likely don’t know that part. Or that I am the youngest of twenty-four. Or that I will have to face my father tomorrow.

He will punish me, and quite severely, at that. True, he did violate one of our laws involving Lessers.

We do not eat the ones with whom we can converse and mate. That is, those who are nearly on par with us in intelligence, or have the potential, at least.

My brother told me of a black market where that went on anyway. I had no idea that he actually encouraged it, or helped to run it, until after I saw him…do what he did.

Now I know why it nobody else seemed surprised or outraged by the…news.

Fascinating word, news: North. East. West. South. Clever, so clever of you adorable beings!

My father likely knew.

And chose to do nothing.

Why?

Because he loved his son.

His son. The Crown Prince; that’s what you would call him.

I must face my father tomorrow, little love. I fear I may be separated from you forever. If that happens, we will both die.

For now, I am grateful to have you with me, if just for a little while. Just a little while, Myne heart, let me sit here with you on my chest. Let me pet you an hour more.

At last, I hear your cries. Your entire body quivers under my hand. Such anguish you must have held within!

You can’t stop. I am trying to hold still for you, but I can feel your sorrow as though it t'were myne…mine. That was why I too, have tears.

That, and fear, such as I have never known.

We never should have come back.

I am so sorry.

Forever your servant,

Aureus

(Ah, that is the closest translation to my name, actually. And it means Golden, as You said my eyes are like. I pray you find that more fitting, little love.)

tinymoogledancer:

Dolly Dreaming

2.

He has no idea yet, that I’m writing all of this down. I’m doing it to ensure I know the truth of what happened, as impossible as it sounds. I just hope He doesn’t take away my ability to read and write. Still, maybe someone can find it and figure out what happened. I guess I’m lucky that I am so much smaller, or that He is a giant…whatever. I don’t have very many hiding places, mostly because the concept of privacy is another thing that’s utterly foreign to him.

He keeps me with him most of the time. As a…ugh, I still can’t say the word out loud: pet, I’m supposed to sit on his shoulders, just like a bird or monkey. He took his time, believe me. We did come to an agreement of sorts. Maybe I should have just jumped, but…I can’t, now that I’ve earned what little trust I’ve got. I’ve seen others like me on other giant shoulders. They really trouble me…because they look so happy. They’re all smiles, but their eyes are empty. I tried talking to one once, but he didn’t seem to understand. Maybe I was speaking the wrong language, but I fear the truth may be far worse; that had been forced to forget he could speak at all. I hope He doesn’t do that to me. I don’t think He will, though. He seems to like talking to me.

Anyway, back to the Arrival.

My thoughts were quite scrambled for a few days after. He carried me away, cooing, cuddling, looking so damned happy.

Do you remember that cartoon about that grey Rabbit? He was quite popular. Remember that episode where the grey rabbit and the black duck get lost, and a giant white monster grabs them and wants to keep them as pets? He wanted to call them George, right? He, the alien giant, was almost like that, for the first day. I might have laughed if I’d watched it on that thing we called TV.

He took me back to the ship, and placed me in one of those energy containers, alone. I banged on it like glass, crying, until I wore myself out and fell asleep.

I dreamed that night, or I must have. That was the night He stole my mind.

It’s so hard to explain. It’s really frustrating to look over your memories and know pieces of your mind are missing. I’d suddenly see things in my mind that were familiar-faces, places I’d been, things I knew I had attachments to. I then felt a strange sensation, and it filled me with terror. It was like someone opened up my personal file cabinet, or…no. He opened…me, and paused at certain files, and just…ripped my thoughts away from me. Deleted them, threw them away like scratch paper in a wastebasket. And once they were gone, they were gone.

I wanted to fight, but how? I saw Him there, in my mind’s eye. He was with me in the darkness of the void. He wanted me to show him…show him what? Everything? He was smaller then, like he had confined himself to my mind. He looked like a very tall, alien…man. Or maybe my mind was trying to make sense of what was happening to me. I wanted to strike at him somehow. I remember screaming, although I don’t remember if I did with words. I kicked, hit, scratched and bit, but he was like mist. He chuckled, though sadly, before reforming. I don’t know how else to say it. He reached for me, but I didn’t want him to steal away more.

I clutched at my head, and ran away from him, to…somewhere. I saw a house. My house? I saw people. Were they friends? Family? I saw him approach, but he turned and looked at the house. For some reason, I knew he shouldn’t, and I tried to stop him, but it was useless. He placed a hand on the roof, and I saw the lights inside go dark, before it winked out of existence. No one was left, except me and Him.

I spun my heel, knowing he was going to…get me. Like the bogeyman, you know? Do you still remember that? I ran to my…yes, my car, opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat. Suddenly, the car seemed to break apart, but since I didn’t know what all of the parts were, it all sort of evaporated.

Strange…I remember the house and car, but don’t…I don’t know why I remember them. He rifled through it all, all kinds of daily things surrounded me, before being combed through, as I can only describe it.

Other memories flashed by. Sunsets. Dancing. School and later, work. I can no longer recall the specifics, but I do remember the man who kissed me. I remember his sweet face, but I’ve forgotten everything else. When he was torn away from me, I glared at the alien, who looked…thoughtful. It was infuriating.

And then, I was suddenly a little girl again, alone, huddled under my bed. More thoughts ripped away, and I wept with the psychosomatic pain, from losing them. I truly was grieving; such a deep sorrow that I thought I’d never feel anything but despair ever again.

I fell large hands grip my shoulders, and I, still a little girl, turned and held on to…someone. It had felt familiar, which is why I did not hesitate after running for so long. It must have been someone who was important to me, but my thoughts and my words for that someone is gone.

I shuddered as this large someone metamorphosed into an even larger someone, someone whose smell I did not recognize, but purred with sympathy as he held me close. A large, long finger tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then paused before tracing the outer edge of it back and forth. He sighed, and suddenly I was no longer a little girl, but yet, I hadn’t gotten any bigger. He, however, seemed to grow with every purr, as though it was a muscle he couldn’t flex anymore. The more He relaxed, the bigger He grew, but before He disappeared, He lifted my hazy chin and gave me a kiss like the sweet-faced man had given me earlier. The kiss was long and drawn out, as though He was still feeding from me. I cried out, but His arms nearly drowned me, His hand on my head was so heavy I couldn’t move. I heard Him gasp in shock, and He pushed me back, as though…afraid, and I watched Him dissolve, muttering in dismay.

It was my cries that finally awoke me, and dread seeped into the very marrow of my bones, for the memories of the Arrival were still there, and they were not dreams at all. I found myself curled into a ball on my side, and wondering where I was and why it was so dark, I turned on my back and saw Him, grey skin and eyes of sunlit topaz, hovering over me. He was at the size I’d first seen him, but His expression was very tender, though sad. He was lying with me on something soft.

I turned away, moaning in despair. I covered my head, feeling the scars long healed, but I didn’t have the energy to do much more. So…They did open me.

I felt Him stroke me, his fingers light, petting me from the top of my head to my…But? Button. Butt! Damn him. I suppose if I was a cartoon like that grey rabbit, I’d laugh.

“Huis…” He began to say, but stopped Himself. He frowned, then rather timidly, said, “Shh…”

Surprised, I struggled to think of what to say. What can you say to someone who destroyed your whole world?

“Howcould You?” I whispered. My voice was still raw, but had healed somewhat.

He frowned even deeper, and I saw how His lower lip trembled. He closed His eyes.

“W…we have sinned,” He said, his accent strange. He formed his words very carefully. “We should not have done what we did…I most humbly…beg for your pardon. Forgive me.”

Read the rest

I spent the next few weeks with Jed in the cabin. Life was simple: I’d wake up, splash water on my face and brush my teeth, and head out to weed the garden or feed the chickens or, one gray morning when the rain drizzled down, chase away a stray fox getting to close to the fence. Jed taught me how to recognize plants (distinguish pines from fir trees, see the wild strawberry rooted by the path, pick the bad mushrooms from the good ones.) He taught me how to use a saw, and how to whistle with two fingers, and how to read the animal tracks on the ground. He’d do it all babbling about the demons. 

“The constructs,” he’d say, “are multiples. They’re split apart. They can’t form what we think of as coherent thought, coherent action.” 

“One saved me,” I said once.

He scoffed at the ground. “Yours doesn’t count.” 

I dreamed of it often, the white face, the wings, the pitch-black eyes, the way the hand loomed over me. I’d wake up to find myself tangled in the sheets. 

“All those people died,” I said to Jed one morning. 

He nodded. 

“Yes,” he said. “They did.” 

“Why’d the construct save me?” 

He looked at me. 

“I think,” he said, “your construct might have been the one that brought me to the Outer World.” 

I stopped to rest for a minute— I’d been lugging a wheelbarrow full of dirt up a hill. Landscaping, Jed called it. 

“What does it want with me?” I asked. 

Jed shrugged. “I spent my life studying them. They’re incomprehensible. Unless your white savior comes back for a lesson, we’ll never know a thing.”

He shouldn’t have said that: it made him angrier when it came true. 

—

I was outside, lying down in the meadow. I’d spent a long day of physical labor helping Jed with the garden. The wind tugged at my hair and face and clothes. There was a sweet smell in the air, like lilac and juniper. It made me sad. 

All the people I’d watched die, lost in the loss of my city— they’d lied down and never gotten up again.

When the shadow fell over me, I kept my eyes closed. 

It was a cloud, I thought. 

“What and whom are we mourning? How will we mourn 

in the dead of North American winter?” 

I opened my eyes and for a moment my brain failed to comprehend it. I saw the pale face, the pitch-black eyes, the wings sprouting from the temples. The face was calm. Tranquil. 

“It’s you,” I said. 

It didn’t respond, just looked at me. 

I pushed myself up on my hands, staring. It was crouched above me. I had to crane my head back to keep eye contact. I felt small, insignificant. Memories of screaming and fire burned through me. People in the water. A mother clutching her children. The man and his canoe. 

“All those people,” I said. “All of them.” 

A rage woke inside me, an inner fire. I glared at the construct. It stared back at me. When it spoke again it was in the fragmented voices: 

“We were a machine used in ancient wars.

Why were David and Goliath fighting to begin with? 

Prehistoric ice-men fought to the death- 

-fought, though, thought, rough, although-“

It shook its head. 

“No,” it said, the many voices gradually collecting into one chorus. “Coherence. Tell the tale.” 

But the voices split and began again.

“-machines used in ancient wars

or enigmas or prototypes or 

beings, your language does not contain

such a word as we are-

and the lessons were not learnt- 

-an entire army might consist of 10,000 men, who traveled in a-

lesson nine is that a mongoose might fight and kill a snake.”

It broke off again, looked at me with a hint of shame.

I rolled the words over in my mind. I was starting to understand something of the way they spoke. It wasn’t the words themselves that carried meaning, it was the implications. The constructs were a manufactured army. Ancient battles. But-

“There wasn’t a battle,” I said. “What that- thingdid to my city, that was genocide.” 

The construct looked at me.

“Lesson nine is that a mongoose might fight and kill a snake,” it repeated, voices united back into their usual multi-tone.

I balled my hands into fists. “That doesn’t meananything! It wasn’t a mongoose and a snake! My people couldn’t fight back! They just screamed and ran and died, and drowned in the water!”

The construct lifted a hand and I flinched back, scrambling on my hands and knees. It paused, staring at me. I stopped. My heart was beating out of my chest. There were dead souls inside me screaming. 

“I won’t hurt you,” the construct said.

It waited. I waited too. 

It moved its hand a little closer, and closer. The panic edged up in my throat, and I closed my eyes and turned away. 

It extended a finger and touched me. 

“A dark beetle bleeds on a riverbank is the mongoose,” it said. “Breath in cold winter is the snake. Mongoose is small. Cute. Snake eats small things. You’ll rest, heal, choose again.” 

My eyes went wide. A sudden connection flashed through me.

“A dark beetle bleeds on the riverbank,” I said. “You named me that.”

It nodded. 

“I’m the mongoose?” 

It nodded, smiling. “The mongoose to kill the snake.” 

“And what’s breath in cold winter?” 

The construct tilted its head. “You met them. They’re fractured, fragmented. They destroy.” 

 A flash of an image sliced through my head.

The perspective snapped into focus and it had to be— fifty, sixty feet? More? The form was hunched over and it had claws instead of hands, long claws, too long, thin and spindly and unnatural. It turned and I saw the flash of what looked like eyes but patterned over its face and body, clustering in groups like boils. 

“The demon,” I gasped. 

“Breath in cold winter,” the construct murmured in agreement. “The snap that kills the flowers and the mice.” 

My mind filled with the screams of the city. 

“But why?’ I asked. 

The construct looked down at me. 

“It has no purpose,” it said. “It’s broken now.”

Read the rest here

I shook my head. 

“I think I’m going crazy,” I said. “I hit my head. Maybe this is a all a dream on the riverbank.” 

Jed shrugged. 

“We’re all a dream on the riverbank,” he said. “We see things for a little while, and then disappear again.” 

He reached out, set the book he was holding down on the edge of the fireplace. 

“When I disappeared,” he continued, “it was right before you were born.” 

—

I was best friends with your Mom— things were different then. Shewas different, then. Carefree and happy, radical, shimmering like wind in spring. 

We were driving down to the Mississippi. A college friend of ours had a boat, and it was New Year’s Eve, and we were drunk off the happiness in the air. 

We drove slow and safe down backroads, and your Mom leaned over and kissed me. She smelled like cherries. I took my eyes off the road for a second to look at her. 

That’s when the lightning struck. 

It was a clear day, but it came out of nowhere, hit he car and electrified us both. Every muscle in my body felt like a live wire. I locked up. The car hadn’t stopped, hadn’t swerved. It was still going. We were both just frozen there inside, like statues. Panic hung in the air. I had to save us. I focused all my energy on it, and when the electricity left and I was burned and disoriented and blind and fumbling I found the gear shift and put it in neutral so the car slowly rolled to a stop. 

That’s when the darkness took me. 

It’s nice, being dead. It feels natural. I didn’t think, didn’t breathe, just went out like a light. 

In the dream, I saw a machine. 

The machine was functioning in the way it was designed, which was like no machine I’d ever seen. It spat out concepts. Ideas, but with form and function. Abstract things more defined that any equation. It calculated and churned and spit. 

I realized I was such a small thing in comparison. I was a tiny little being. It was like an ant suddenly being able to see the human world, the expanse of it, the brilliance. I was minuscule. 

I realized my soul-form, my self, whatever way I existed here— it had been brought intentionally. Something was holding me, guiding me. It would come closer, brush up, and my whole being would white-out with the presence of it. It was too powerful. So the thing kept its distance, and nudged me along. Each nudge was like a tsunami. 

It was one of the constructs up close. 

When I woke, I was in a body bag. They were wheeling me down a long hallway. The paramedic screamed when I sat up. 

I was dead, they told me. It was a miracle. 

I managed to stutter a question out through the burned and swollen lips. 

The girl in the car was okay, they said. She would live. 

It was too soon to tell what effect the experience would have on her pregnancy. 

—

Jed paused in the story, rubbing his mouth. 

I tried to digest what he’d told me. It was inconceivable, this version of events. It wasn’t the impossible that threw me— it was the description of my mother. I knew her as irritable, aggressive, racially insensitive. She spent hours and hours locked in her room, mumbling bible verses. 

“How long did you know Mom?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Since college. She changed after that day. It was like I couldn’t recognize her. She went a little— well. Whatever corruption ate the constructs, it ate your mother too.” 

“Corruption?” 

“Some of them are fragmented. Shattered. They scream and tear and cause pain. In that place I went to, the outer world, they looked like thousands of pieces of glass shining.” 

He held up his hands, spread them apart to mimic an explosion. 

“When they talk it’s in the fragments,” he continued. “The place we went, humans aren’t supposed to go. I think it broke her. It broke me a little too. I was worried—“ 

He stopped himself, lowered his hands into his lap, looked at me. 

“I didn’t know,” he said softly, “how you’d turn out. That’s all.”

I looked down at my nameless feet.

“I think I’m a little shattered, too,” I said. 

He nodded. “It happens. It’s a collective thing. It’s not that your forgot your name— its that your name, it drifted away from this place. It went to the outer world or maybe even somewhere else. That’s why I can’t just tell it to you: it’s gone now.” 

I pressed my lips into a thin line. 

“The angel called me something,” I said. 

“What’s that?” 

“Beetle.A dark beetle bleeds on the riverbank.” 

He drew back, looked at me in astonishment. “It gave you a construct-name?”

I shrugged. 

Jed stood up in excitement, waving his arms. “That’s more than a name! That’s a purpose! A being. It called you a being?” 

I put my head in my hands. “I don’t know. It called me a beetle, that’s all. Maybe it just wanted to squash me.” 

He shook his head fervently, knelt down beside me. “No. It talked to you and named you. The prototypes— they don’t do that. They’ve never done that. Humans aren’t noticeable to them. They don’t talk like us. Their language isn’t comprehensible.” 

I groaned. “God. None of this makes any sense. I’m crazy. I just watched people die.” 

The tears were coming before I knew it. My voice broke into the air. 

“I watched people die,”I said again. “It came through the city and it killed everyone. That thingkilled everyone.” 

Something inside me broke, I found myself babbling words. 

“God raised a gnat from the dead to answer a prayer!

What and whom are we mourning? How will we mourn,

in the dead of North American winter

I could see it in the way their eyes have fixed on me

a mass neurosis, the sun, above.

wounded stranger left for dead beside the road, 

say they want the kingdom but they don’t want God in it,

the chief role of children was to die, usually drowned, smothered, 

lesson nine is that a mongoose might fight and kill a snake!” 

Somewhere in the monologue, Jed reached out and wrapped his arms around me. 

It was the first time I’d been hugged in years.