ch. 2
(Ipshay's name was once Black. She was told this was because she was devoid of all color. Later she found out it was because she absorbs all color.)
How do you feel black?
dead. isn't that how I'm supposed to feel?
Hey, whatever kid, you let your life roll the way you want it to like a screenplay. [[he opens his palms and backs away, smiling with cold pale blue eyes.]]
hmm...said the 8 years of living soul black...back in black, back in a lack of black....
she looked back at the creature of absinthe, the wolf dryad, part daemon, whose form was absent of fur as of now...
I don't know how I should feel, she murmured absently in a dry voice, barely living during the day, thoroughly dead at night, yet the process continues...
Black tried not to think of Absinthe. He would be absent from her life shortly, she chuckled once, concentrating on a piece of paper that was to be her screenplay she decided to create, make. Make yourself make yourself, written on top.
*** this is what she writes as black...this is black no more...
days are all about society, nights are...oblivious to society as it is to them...
Night sought out all its creatures as they were born...
Ipshay: i don't know the purpose of night...the purpose of night is living, it is to be dead...*scratches head, smiles, You are Absinthe...the creatures that go bump in the night. [[she is random an can't convey her thoughts in any logical particular order, she screams inside because sometimes her thoughts are burried...by trespassers...shit she hadn't used that word since thinking about the place of forlorn
I can't go on...I'm stuck in transition...I can't fly in the dark and I can't make you come with me [[she reminsices...why did i write that...then...why is it happening...now...how much time? is time really time or jus our perspective...our view relative to our mind...we can speed it up and we can slow it down..down..down...echoes in her mind...was there something instead of a mind up there?]]
Absinthe: are you lost?
ipshay: i am lost in time
absinthe: do yo know it was just yesterday...when I calle dyou black?
ipshay: no. ...it wasn't. time can not be measured by quantity.
she continues...i am lost in what resides in my head...i can not tell you yet.. can't understand yet...[looks down...tears and rain, tears and rain] it won't control me yet...[[she turns around, but his bonds are still around her; she feels nothing inside, but ... .... ]]
Changing is my motivation***, she reminisces what she as black wrote. ...The demons...the demons are after her. Ipshay feels them. She feels their movements as she feels the movements of change in herself. But this she wakes up to: and that is the long grasses around her, the trees of shadows and protection from the brilliant sun, the winds carrying their messages with them an rippling gossip in the creek, the trees release feathers across her face; she is beneath a willow tree, a weeping willow with long lithe limbs, filled with soft green fingers.
Now what is this script that she writes? Well, it is vague, but strong, as both characteristics are needed for Ipshay's life. How did Black's life change to something beyond anything she ever even knew to write about? Unpredictability is key. ...in order to make her life complete...that is, if it wasn't so ongoing. |
Submission Name: ch. 2
