Resolve

[Zonty 994]

 

 

 

Sky foams with thunderclouds, a wind lashing through the splaying and crooking spines of mountainscape. The air is replete with scent of freshness; a loyal cohort of storms. The chest sinks then heaves — lungs inebriate on the unstained zephyr. 

 

A she-devil rears her hideous, black-crowned countenance. A myriad of eyes peel at the heavens that curdle with black pall. Those pearls gawk at the frivolous whirls that wind-spirits churn in forecoming of the tempest. But instead of hatred there is grief. She gleans in those aloft spirals redolence to a hope. A memory of days where elation embroidered future.

 

A coarse voice ranks from her. A distortion, much like herself. She speaks, though none hear her. None but perhaps those dwelling in her shadows — they whose camaraderie she forsook. 

 

“It was never meant for me, was it?” — “No road; a glimpse on the horizon. A fatuous game I could indulge. False words, false paths. False promises.”

 

Her face twists. Some place deep within the smouldering ruins of her mind, a mote rebels against those words. She wills the notion to be true; but she can’t believe it. A scar is left deep within her soul. An itching wound forever to remind that this was not a fate, but choice.

 

The wind whips and skies reverberate. Rain plummets down. A breath of flame cleaves reality apart and thither the she-devil flees before water cools the ground. There is but one thought that gnaws her.

 

“The greatest lies are the lies we tell ourselves.”