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Now Playing: ZEAL & ARDOR - Gravedigger's Chant ( alt link )
At the crack of dawn, Carol came to in the town square. The night's last embers had long since been put out. With only ash and charcoal to remember it by, it all still felt like a dream. She didn’t know if she’d slept for a second that night. And she didn't care.
watch yourself.
Nobody paid any mind to the little girl's body dragged to its feet, suspending itself like a marionette.
stay with me,
It didn't pay any mind back, starting the journey home as if reanimated by clockwork.
watch yourself,
One tiny foot in front of the other, one shambling step at a time, all the way back to the house. Its legs almost give out in the yard, but it picks itself up and continues.
The door to its home swung open, nobody there to greet what entered. Pushed to a corner was the start of their next round of experiments. Charcoal, saltpeter, sulfur. A novel concoction, its properties equal parts fascinating and terrifying.
watch yourself,
“Papa?! PAPA!!! Somebody help him, please! ”
stay with me,
Before she could hardly recall, but now the pyre raged within her mind hotter and hotter and hotter than ever before.
watch yourself.
If the flames wouldn't stop at Papa, then she wouldn't let them end with him either. It was only fair. If she couldn’t have a father’s grace to take solace in, why should they?
She's back in the square, picking up and examining every bit of charred wood. She splits them and adds them to her bag. This burning memory would be their last miracle together.
watch yourself.
Six parts, one part, one part. Every stroke of the pestle ground her doubts, every stroke refined her anger.
Lord don't have mercy for you,
She ties a rope around her waist as a belt and steps out into the light. The afternoon sun burns her nostrils with an ethereal acridity. Was it anticipation, perhaps? She knew what she would do, whose all-watching eye she'd take in return.
Carol looks left, right, and ducks inside the church. The rope comes off, one end black with soot. She blows on the slow match once, twice, thrice. The end glows a soft red and meets black fuse in a kiss of death.
She throws her regards to the pew and darts outside, sprinting and huffing and heaving and tumbling her way up the grassy hill and never looking back. Wind in her hair, tears streaming from her eyes. For the first time today, she’d come back to life. It all felt so wrong. It all felt so right.
Lord don’t have mercy for you
She lands on her ankle wrong and her knee almost buckles. She laughs. All of the sensation and pain and anger and love just tell her of the reality of this moment. For better, for worse…those two concepts didn't mean a thing. It was all for her, and that was all that truly mattered.
(lord don’t have mercy for you…)
This felt far enough. She slows to a halt to catch her breath for a moment. The smile pasted across her face starts to pass, the momentary euphoria fading into…
She drops the bag she'd filled with some food Papa had prepared the day before. Nobody was there to make breakfast for her, so she'd been hungry all morning.
Her hands pick one of the items from the bag. Despite its contents still being tightly bound, from inside the cloth she could smell…fish? That was the salmon they'd managed to catch together!
Now Playing: Tomorrow
She eagerly unwrapped the towel, her original mission forgotten. The final fold reveals the snack's flaky crust. Fish pastries, her favorite! And better yet, Papa had finally got the hang of not burning them! She took in a deep drag of the aroma, then a slow bite.
It was perfect.
On the way to find the Arnica, they’d stopped by a slow stream to rest for a minute. The spot was wide and slow, the creek bending around their pebble bed in a picturesque scene. Izak seemed in no rush to explain this detour. The landscape spoke for itself. “Carol, have I ever shown you how to fish before?”
“No, Papa. But you’ve mentioned it before.”
“No time like the present then.” He sets down his bag and takes out a loop of line, hook, and sinker, but no rod. “You see Carol, it’s not quite like hunting. You can’t force the fish onto your hook like you might spear a beast. You must know the fish’s nature.”
Her eyes widen a little at his equipment and his words, watching her Papa’s every move. Izak pulls out a small glass jar and opens it to show Carol what’s inside. The smell hits her nose like a horse cart.
“EWW! What are those?!”
Izak laughs. It’s why he was Izak. “Worms. They might be repulsive to us, but fish love them. The smellier, the better.” He picks one from the container and places it onto the hook along with the sinker.
“Now, stand back.” He whips the line around over his head and sends it into the creek. Ripples flow outwards from where it lands, spreading across the surface until they couldn't be seen anymore. But surely they were still there, still rippling on through the water.
Still there…
She chewed on fish, breading, memories, and tears alike as every little sensation washed over her. The pastry was only just alright. The dough wasn't quite cooked through, and the fish inside was unseasoned and a tad dry. But none of that mattered. It was perfect. It was Papa’s
Then it all hits her. How was it fair that Papa wasn't here to taste it? That he couldn't make any more? That this was it for him? For them? Questions swam and spun around in her head, the only answers pointing towards despair. She stuffs it down with another bite.
Soft flickering light from a heretofore unnoticed source drew her attention. Her work was starting to be noticed by the townspeople. Their words were too distant to find her ears, but she knew what devil they'd be cursing.
“If it’s not a divine miracle, it is the devil’s wisdom, and too much for human hands!”
Now Playing: Omoide wa Honō to Tomo ni
Carol looked down at the figs in her hand. What did her father say again? What words did he leave her with?
“Live, and know more of the world.”
Yeah, that's it. Watching the tiny adults below desperately rush water to the church like worker ants, Carol resolved that this would be the start of her observations. This would be Experiment #1, a trial by fire.
She watched on as the apartment burned, as the structure broke down along its own seams fueled by the nature of its own substance. Soon, that would be everything. Soon she would know the world, and there would be nothing more to know.
“Purify the taint of Izak with the flames that cleanse sin!”
Deep down, she wished all those stupid memories would just go up with the building. That they would disappear, with only ash and smoke to know them by.
Somebody answers.
“Hey. it’s dangerous up there!”