Work Text:
(1)
You rush across the field,
ashen and gray strands
of grass becoming
more lively. The string
of a bow strummed
as it’s released,
the sound of an arrow, a bullet,
whizzing through the air.
It can’t be heard
over a scream.
A scream of warning.
Then, a sharp pain in your chest
blooms, sprouts, its vines reaching,
surging throughout your body.
Yellow flickers red.
(2)
Your throat bursts a cry,
muffled
by the particles of dirt
inhaled through your nose
and pressed firmly
against your scarred face.
Your body aches
from the impact
of colliding to the ground. Hard.
Yet not as bad
as the arrow through your skin,
a trickle of red running along
your wool sweater.
Golden-brown strands
of hair block your vision,
growing spotty and bleary
with each passing moment.
Faintly, you hear footsteps,
feel footsteps, approaching you rapidly.
Someone was running.
Your body hurts.
Red pours out, warm,
becoming colder with every second.
You’re growing tired.
Yellow fades.
(3)
You’re suddenly sitting up.
The pain in your chest worsens,
wrapping around your chest.
You’re too tired
to cry.
Your hair is brushed
away from your face
gently, the touch as light
as a feather.
Bleary gaze meets
with blue eyes
speckled with hazel.
A paling face holds panic,
color draining from his cheeks
as his eyes trail downward
towards your bleeding chest—
your bleeding heart.
Your friend says something,
it’s inaudible to your ears,
muffled
under the sound of ringing.
But you feel his touch
supporting you, a trembling hand
holding you upright.
You feel
cold armor, white and dented
against the side of your face.
Your friend says something, again,
the words don’t reach your ears.
Yet, you understand,
as his voice breaks
and wavers.
You force your hand,
paling fingertips
tracing along
his sage hair.
You smile despite yourself,
feeling something
trickle from your lips.
It’s cold. It’s not blood.
You’re so tired.
Red disappears,
replaced
with the
inviting darkness
of death.
(𓁺)
Warmth.
You feel warmth.
As a voice calls, gently, soothingly.
Her voice coaxes you
from your sleep.
Eyes open, staring from the darkness.
From somewhere, violet sparkles.
Wake up, she says.
And so you do.