bid my blood to run 'amity'
Dec 22, 2014 17:10:28 GMT -6
Post by KUNA ✌ on Dec 22, 2014 17:10:28 GMT -6
A N A N K E
bid my blood to run, before i come undone
save me from the nothing i’ve become
I’ve grown particularly fond of this spot. I’m underneath the embrace of an elderly willow tree and sometimes he will tell me a story or two. The night has raged on, going from sunset to twilight to midnight to early morning to sunrise to dawn, and I haven’t closed my eyes once. Sleep is a frightful thing, something that I do not partake of, but I find that the exhaustion and deprivation of sleep has become yet another twisted puzzle piece of my being. My eyes burn from lack of blinking, but even blinking could cause an unsuspected attack. I’m sure the willow tree would warn me, but I have sensed the moments where even he has become lulled into the inky, unsettling darkness of sleep.
As the world slowly wakes up (and with it, my fears) my willow tree friend suddenly launches into another story, this one different from the rest. “There once was a mare named Ananke. She was crazy. Her eyes never blinked and her muscles never twitched and her bones never shook all the night long. All of the sudden, when the world was waking up, she was attacked.” I laugh aloud at the story he tells, about how true it is, when the ending suddenly rings in my ears louder than the rest. Stiffly moving for the first time in hours, I turn to look at the elderly tree. “What do you me-?”
But the tree’s arms are swinging toward me, trailing the branches of leafy clothing. I feel one almost hit me, instead rushing past my shoulder with inches to spare. “Ohmygosh WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I yell, jumping away. Already the heightening panic is squeezing at my chest, tightening it so tight I can barely breathe. The tree doesn’t answer; it just keeps swinging its arms in my direction. One whips across the left side of my chest, leaving a sharp sting and a trickle of blood.
“Blood means death. Death means danger. Danger means run.”
The mantra suddenly blazes in my mind as I feel the droplet trickle across my skin. OHMYGOSH I’M GOING TO DIE. So I run, not knowing what else to do, away from the tree with the swinging branches and angry huffs. A tear leaks out of my pitch black eyes. I had thought the willow tree was my friend, telling me all those sweet stories and helping me keep watch for dangerous predators. Not anymore. Maybe he was just out for blood (“Bloodmeandeath. Deathmeansdanger. Dangermeansrun.”) all along! A sob chokes out of my throat as I run and when I come to a stop alongside a river, I’m quick to jump in and clean the blood off my body.
The trickle of blood is lost in the ever-moving current, but I can see a blood red fish take the place of my bodily liquid, dancing alongside neon green pebbles at the bottom of the stream. When I climb out, I let a whispering wind soothe me with sincere words and dry my wet coat before I shuffle alongside the stream and halfheartedly nibble and blades of grass.
As the world slowly wakes up (and with it, my fears) my willow tree friend suddenly launches into another story, this one different from the rest. “There once was a mare named Ananke. She was crazy. Her eyes never blinked and her muscles never twitched and her bones never shook all the night long. All of the sudden, when the world was waking up, she was attacked.” I laugh aloud at the story he tells, about how true it is, when the ending suddenly rings in my ears louder than the rest. Stiffly moving for the first time in hours, I turn to look at the elderly tree. “What do you me-?”
But the tree’s arms are swinging toward me, trailing the branches of leafy clothing. I feel one almost hit me, instead rushing past my shoulder with inches to spare. “Ohmygosh WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I yell, jumping away. Already the heightening panic is squeezing at my chest, tightening it so tight I can barely breathe. The tree doesn’t answer; it just keeps swinging its arms in my direction. One whips across the left side of my chest, leaving a sharp sting and a trickle of blood.
“Blood means death. Death means danger. Danger means run.”
The mantra suddenly blazes in my mind as I feel the droplet trickle across my skin. OHMYGOSH I’M GOING TO DIE. So I run, not knowing what else to do, away from the tree with the swinging branches and angry huffs. A tear leaks out of my pitch black eyes. I had thought the willow tree was my friend, telling me all those sweet stories and helping me keep watch for dangerous predators. Not anymore. Maybe he was just out for blood (“Bloodmeandeath. Deathmeansdanger. Dangermeansrun.”) all along! A sob chokes out of my throat as I run and when I come to a stop alongside a river, I’m quick to jump in and clean the blood off my body.
The trickle of blood is lost in the ever-moving current, but I can see a blood red fish take the place of my bodily liquid, dancing alongside neon green pebbles at the bottom of the stream. When I climb out, I let a whispering wind soothe me with sincere words and dry my wet coat before I shuffle alongside the stream and halfheartedly nibble and blades of grass.
WORDS: 520 TAGGED: amity MUSE: boom. xD
by ♛befera
summary - ananke has spent the entire night underneath one particular willow tree, not moving a single bit except for breathing. she's imagined the willow tree has told her stories throughout the night. in the morning, the willow tree "tells" her a story involving herself and then ananke hallucinates the tree attacking her. the stinging and the blood is all her imagination, as well as the fish appearing in the river. any words that aren't her own are not real.
italic words indicate voices she's imagining.
bolded words indicate ananke's own voice.
