oom: endings
Sep. 7th, 2008 01:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
27_53We sat in a tiny circle, the three of us and for minutes we just watched each other and smiled.
"You're going away," I said at last.
He closed his eyes and nodded.
"Where will you go?" I said.
He shrugged, pointed out to the sky. "Somewhere," he said.
I touched his dry, cold hand. "What are you?" I whispered.
He shrugged again. "Something," he said. "Something like you, something like a beast, something like a bird, something like an angel." He laughed. "Something like that." He smiled. "Let's stand up," he said.
We made our circle and we held each other tight. We looked deep into each other's eyes. We began to turn. Our hearts and breath were together. We turned and turned until the ghostly wings rose from Mina's back and mine, until we felt ourselves being raised, until we seemed to turn and dance in the empty air.
And then it ended, and we came to earth again.
"We'll remember forever," said Mina.
Skellig leaned forward and hugged us both.
He licked a drop of red sauce from his lips.
"Thank you for 27 and 53," he said. "Thank you for giving me my life again. Now you have to go home."
We watched him as we walked toward the door and as we pulled it open. We peered through as we slowly pulled it closed. He gazed back at us with his tender eyes. Then we went silently down through the house and we stepped out with Whisper into the astounding night.
footsteps on the stairs fading softly into
The owls bring him things.
Some living beetles and spiders and worms some not rats and mice and then in between a rabbit still kicking.
not as good as 27 and 53
He picks the fur from his teeth with the bones and then doubles over
and then he sleeps.
Slimey slippery fish and white powder in his teeth.
No brown ale to wash it down, not this nightor the next.
And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made;
and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made.
scratch scratch scratch scratch
The owls bring him things.
A flutter of wings and he sighs, feathers falling to the floor.
he smiles
(every fledgling must leave the nest and face the world the savages)
We stood at the center, remembering Skellig.
"Someone else might find him, now," said Mina.
"Yes," I said. "I hope they do.
"You're going away," I said at last.
He closed his eyes and nodded.
"Where will you go?" I said.
He shrugged, pointed out to the sky. "Somewhere," he said.
I touched his dry, cold hand. "What are you?" I whispered.
He shrugged again. "Something," he said. "Something like you, something like a beast, something like a bird, something like an angel." He laughed. "Something like that." He smiled. "Let's stand up," he said.
We made our circle and we held each other tight. We looked deep into each other's eyes. We began to turn. Our hearts and breath were together. We turned and turned until the ghostly wings rose from Mina's back and mine, until we felt ourselves being raised, until we seemed to turn and dance in the empty air.
And then it ended, and we came to earth again.
"We'll remember forever," said Mina.
Skellig leaned forward and hugged us both.
He licked a drop of red sauce from his lips.
"Thank you for 27 and 53," he said. "Thank you for giving me my life again. Now you have to go home."
We watched him as we walked toward the door and as we pulled it open. We peered through as we slowly pulled it closed. He gazed back at us with his tender eyes. Then we went silently down through the house and we stepped out with Whisper into the astounding night.
click
The owls bring him things.
Some living beetles and spiders and worms some not rats and mice and then in between a rabbit still kicking.
blood dribbles across his lips and he sighs
He picks the fur from his teeth with the bones and then doubles over
brown spotted fuzz
and then he sleeps.
Slimey slippery fish and white powder in his teeth.
No brown ale to wash it down, not this night
(Or the next or the next or the three after that.)
And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made;
and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made.
Thank you. S.
The owls bring him things.
A flutter of wings and he sighs, feathers falling to the floor.
(every fledgling must leave the nest and face the world the savages)
And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it:
because that in it he had rested from all his work
which God created and made.
"Thank you."
We stood at the center, remembering Skellig.
"Someone else might find him, now," said Mina.
"Yes," I said. "I hope they do.
something will.
soon.
