Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Anti Chronicles: Sho-rock

by Katherine of Sho-rock

...I immediately look in each of the audial library's that I am aware of and find only a cold, shy, demented girl of around twelve. Obviously my men take her in and dress and feed her, but they do not forget to bring along the tape to which she was listening. It is a copy of the scarlet letter. She reacts violently to any touch, even though she is treated with the utmost care. When she is brought to my castle she refuses to walk and is carried through the gates by a village boy. Apparently being scared of men, she is transferred to the care of the palace and to my maidens, the only time she seams to express joy is when they whisper to her; and the sound of wind in the rose garden lulls her to sleep. 

In the morning we awake to find her in that garden, here finger pressed unflinchingly into the longest thorn on a beautiful long stim yellow-tipped rose. A drop of blood trembles down her hand, and her lips twitch ever so slightly with her breath. The Sean is peaceful. I move silently to here side and move to itch her injured hand, when my own hand is inches away she turns her face to me, the face is hard and cold, not in the same way as a statue but in a way that shows that expression has retreated from the features as the mind became more expressive. I pause and then touch the bloody hand, she moves it then, to my face when with the mangled thumb pad she draws a strange check mark down my nose to the jaw and up towards my ear adding a smudge on top of my ear. The others around contemplate moving forward but are still; as are we. Both see the danger in the other. Mere moments later, we move, she to put her injured finger in her mouth and I to touch the design on my face. It is hard. Her blood is red and purple and hard like a mask, my expression is locked into some form that I dare not look at. I send the others away. This is my twin; when she stands up next even those retreating forums can feel the likeness between us even if they had not seen it before. 

She must leave, or we will both be destroyed; both holds power over the other, both counts the other as a threat. She has somehow come from her own detention and posed in mine for this moment when an action must be taken. We move apart, each to her own chamber. I do not bother to wash the chains from my face. The scarlet letter. In it is both blame and respect. I will where it. And I will send her her copy back. I know now what must be done for both of us. I am told that she immediately began the story again when it was returned to her, I couldn't know, I couldn't bring myself to watch. My engineers, magicians, they returned her to her own detention through the story; the story that locked us together and pulled us apart. 

She is gone forever now. The bloody symbol is gone also from my face, but the yellow rose remains, only now instead of a white rose tipped in yellow, it is a crimson, red one, tipped in gold.

No comments:

Post a Comment