Ugh. My Muse Hates Me.

[Stare]

Bleh. I hate how I always have muse for the things I don't want to write. No, this isn't a real death post. Just something I wrote up because I would have exploded if I didn't. The song is "Three Cups of Tea" by Jake Fleming. © 2006 Flick The Fly Publishing.
Comments are appreciated.

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
<><><><><><><><>

I see a hero.
A child of the times.
A girl who lives with joy,
Who's not afraid to speak her mind,
And thinks the world is divine.

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Maybe fate is what brought me here.

I gaze at my surroundings. This old shed was obviously built years ago, for the wood is worn to a dull gray color. I assume a person once saw this place suitable to live in (it isn't surprising, for more than a few can't afford real houses), because the fireplace and broken bits of what might have once been furniture are scattered signs of a human's once healing and then destructive touch. All along the walls, little bits of wood have chipped off or are splintering to reveal a fresh, young layer inside that has not been beaten by weather and misuse and age. It reminds me of myself- I see my hands reflected in the rusty nails carelessly places all over the walls. I see my feet in the floorboards that are decaying because they have held this weight for too long. I see my shoulders in walls that might have once been strong, but are now thin, weak, and likely to collapse at any moment. I see my heart reflected in the fireplace that once held such fire, but now doesn't even hold ashes, for they have been scattered by the wind.

Living here, I felt unsure of my luck. I had experienced the best and the worst, and this was something right in between the warm, cozy home I had and the cold, heartless streets I learned to live in. True, it sheltered me from the harsh weather of winter and spring, but it is also very small and unstable. The roof (which has always been crooked) had a little area that I had to patch up. Now, however, I cannot help but feel glad Flight found this place for me. It's not too small now that I've opened the door. My head rests on a floorboard that is damp and rough, rubbing uncomfortably against my cheek, but I can still see outside.

Everyone knows how much I love nighttime. It enchanted me with it's esoteric nature, drawing me into the darkest parts of the woods as I learned it's secrets and became a part of it. The night has had many creatures, but very few humans have dared to discover it. Yet I was amazed by everything, from the way the breeze tumbled through the starlit canopy above my head to the moonlit paths that led to sparkling creeks which were caught in a forever dance, still awake and lively when everything else had gone to sleep. It wasn't long before glittering stardust and moonlight filled my spirit and soul, and I stole a piece of the darkness and magic kept hidden from the world, so abstruse was it to the creatures that believe they rule all they can find. When I would breath in the cool, damp air, I felt the emptiness inside (I was starving, I had no friends, and I was scared) filled by something I could only refer to as magic during those young years. I remember pretending I was an animal of the night, running through the trees silently, my eyes laughing, feeling like I was finally alive.

Tonight is no different. The trees sways so gracefully in the powerful gusts, and the stars wink at me above the powerful forms. The moon isn't full, but it still sheds a pale, silvery light onto rippling waves that move across the grass as the wind bends it. The night air is cold yet gentle and light and free, everything I wished for but never could be, because life wouldn't allow it. In nature, such characteristics radiate majesty and power, but in humans, they are weakness. Right now, I feel both as my hand wraps around the handle of the knife.

It began at sunset, as I slipped back through the fence. My emotions had been conflicted- I felt peace and happiness flood into my veins at the idea of being home, but fear clouded my mind. Home, where the Keepers were. Home, where there was a lost mother. And home, where there was a friend who I had finally realized I was terrified of. I forced myself away from these thoughts, though (although her yellow eyes still glowed in the dark mists in the back of mind). I've been tortured by these fears for too long, and I would not have my first few hours back in District Nine ruined by them. I gazed up at the rich red sky, my eyes wide and sparkling. I took a took a deep breath, feeling a sudden warmth flow through me.

And then the knife hit me.

My eyes sting as I hold back tears at the memory, and I glare down at the knife, which is stuck deep in me, right below my left shoulder blade. The pain burns and stings and aches all at once, on a scale of pain that I didn't even know was possible. Falling off the roof seems like nothing compare to this, because even shifting my shoulder slightly makes flashes of white and black appear in my eyes. My shirt is stained red, and the blood has pooled on the ground around me, warm sticky life that I will never get back.

I remember the terrified voices of the two teenagers- sadly, they sounded no older than me- as I closed my eyes and played dead on the ground. I was not a Keeper, but a wanderer. Still a kid. And, thanks to them, I was dying. They argued about staying or not, but decided not to help, and fled. I didn't blame them. It was too late to help me, and if the Keepers found them, they'd be in a worse situation than me. And after they had left, I decided that I did not want it to end there. Not so close to the fence.

The journey here is a blur, although I remember a lot of pain. I shoved the door open, pushing so much weight on the feeble thing that it cracked as it slammed into one of the walls. I took one step in, and collapsed on the ground. And that's how I ended up here.

Tears slowly begin to flood in my eyes, slipping down my cheeks as I realize that I'm going to die here. I'm not ready. There's so much I haven't done, and too many things I never said. I was supposed to climb that giant pine tree this summer. I planned on searching for my mother tomorrow. I was going to make money again, and then spend it all foolishly on some big, delicious meal.

What would I have done if I had known this would happen, and there was no stopping it? I would have stood up to a Keeper. I would have told Flight the truth- I'm terrified of her and the monster, but I'm trying hard not to be. I would have admitted my horrible mistake to my mother. I would have tried that stuff called lemonade. I wouldn't have lived on the street. I would have found that girl I fought and told her to live her life. I would have sold everything I had to buy blankets for the people without homes who lived on the streets.

It's not right. I shouldn't have to leave now, when I'm realizing all of my mistakes and all of the things I could have done to make the world better. I've broken so many promises, and hurt so many people. I've lived in the shadows, only coming alive at night. I was afraid to jump, and so I never learned how to fly. And I have no one to blame for it except for myself.

I try to imagine the reaction of my death. They won't even know to bury me at night, under the stars, like I always wanted. And no one will show up to my funeral. Flight... well, I don't think she'd risk being that close to Keepers just for me. And no one else will know or care. I'll be forgotten. Just another criminal dead.

When the darkness begins to creep out from the edges of my vision, I think that it's finally happening. I'm dying. But after everything has faded to black, I realize that that isn't the case. I've gone blind. It's happened before (an odd effect of too much stress), and my vision always came back. I'm about to comfort myself with this fact when I realize it's not true. I won't ever see again. And I let out a howl of agony as I realize I won't even get to see the world around me when I leave.

“Quiet!” an all too familiar voice snaps, and my sightless eyes widen. “You'll wake half the district!”

For a moment, there is stillness and silence, because I don't want to believe it. I feel hope bloom in my chest as I move my right arm around, trying to find her. “M-m-mom?”

“Yes, Luna. It's me.”

“Mom!” I cry out, feeling my tears cease as joy explodes within me. She's here. I hold out my hand for her to take, but nothing happens. I frown. “Mom? Mom, come here.”

Silence.

My heart begins to beat faster, and my breathing becomes short gasps as my hand thrusts itself forward, and I worry that she has left, or that her voice is simply my imagination. “Mom, help me!”

“Help you?” her tone makes my insides freeze. I have never heard her voice sound like this before. It's filled with disgust and anger. “Why would I help you, Luna? You abandoned me when I needed you most. You didn't even say good bye. You deserve this.”

“W-w-what?” the tears are coming back quickly. “Mom...? How could you say that?”

“It's the truth, Luna,” she says quietly.

“N-no,” I whisper, and the tears glide down my cheeks once more. “No. No, it's not.”

“You've done horrible things, Luna,” I know now that the voices aren't real, because this one belongs to my father. And my father is dead. I should know. I am, after all, the murderer.

“Dad.” It's not a question, but a sobbed statement. I have done horrible things, and the sound of his strong but hurt voice allows me to see them clearly. No more shadows and mists hiding what I have done. No excuses. He's right. There's nothing else to it.

“How could you do this to me, Luna?” he asks, sounding like he's close to tears, too. “I could have made it, you know. But now we'll never know.”

“You were in pain!” I sob, my voice choked. “I didn't know what else to do! I was a child! I didn't realize it, Dad. I was young and stupid!”

“You're guilty!” he says. “Now do you see what you put me through? Now do you realize what you took?”

“Yes!” I manage to say through. “Yes, I realize! I'm s-so sorry, Dad! P-p-please forgive me!”

“Never. We will never forgive you.”

My breath catches, and for a moment, I am to shocked to even cry. And then I just want them all to go away. Not her. Anyone but her. I can almost picture her golden eyes glaring down at me.

“You left, Luna,” her voice demands attentions, and carries a large amount of pride, just as I remember. But her words are filled with a hatred I don't recognize. “You expect me to support you, and then leave when you see the chaos inside of me? You're horrible, you know. Just horrible.”

“Stop it!” I screech, pressing my good shoulder to my ear in an attempt to block out the noise. “Stop!”

“You think I'm a monster. You think I'm horrible. You think this is my fault.”

“No!” I shout suddenly, my hands clenching into fists. “I never thought that. I never blamed you. You're my friend, Flight. Just- just stop it!”

“How could you do this, Luna?” she yells back. “You hurt everyone you know, and then act like you're the one in pain! I hate you, Luna! I hate you!”

It feels like another knife has been plunged into my heart, and I am perfectly still for a moment before the sobbing continues, louder and more pitiful than before. I don't try to argue with her any more, because what she has said is true. It's all true.

“Luna,” my mother's voice is fading.

“No!” I yell. “No! Don't leave me!” I stretch out my hand again. “Help me!”

“No.”

“Mommy!” I screech. “Don't leave me, Mommy! You promised you would always be there for me when I needed you! You told me you loved me! Don't leave me, Mommy! Don't leave me! You promised!”

When there is no reply, my voice drops down to a whisper. “You promised.”

The tears continue to flow, but I fall silent. No. No, this can't be happening. Not already. It's too soon, and I just... I can't die. Not now. I... I don't want to die. Yet, there's not stopping it. My breathing becomes shallow. My heart beat becomes weaker. I feel myself slipping away, and I realize that I can't stop it. Not now. I knew it was coming. I should be ready. But... I'm not.

I think of what they all said, and feel myself become strangely calm. Maybe it's best if I leave this world. After all, I cause so much pain. For a moment, I feel myself hesitate. Do I really want to do this? I still have a few minutes. Shouldn't I enjoy what I have left? But no, I wouldn't enjoy it. I would hate every second.

With all the strength I have left, I pull out the knife. The blood spills out, spreading the pool of red farther, just as I knew it would. For a moment, there is bright, burning pain. It spreads thorugh my very being, and I suck in a deep breath. But then I feel the night's cool fingers around me, cradling me in my last moments. I smile, because if I had to go this soon, I wouldn't have it any other way. Alone. At night. Here. And then I breath out, giving back what I stole from the night so long ago.

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The sea seems to go on forever.

Dark and mysterious in the never ending night, warm and cold at the same time against my skin as I float on top of it, rising and falling with the waves. Peaceful and lulling, and I feel so tired, yet so awake. Above me, blue violet swirls. A hundred shooting stars pass over it, making the sky look alive. There is no moon, no moonlight. That's okay, though. I love the stars...

Suddenly, swirling blue lights appear around me. Time to go, Luna. Time to leave.[/color]

The beautiful voices are no longer cruel or angry, though. They are warm and welcoming, like they are greeting a friend they have been waiting for. It makes me feel happy, which is special, because I am never happy anymore. But still, something is wrong. I have the feeling I'm missing something. And then I remember, and the happiness vanishes.

“Mom...” I frown. “Dad. Flight.”

They sigh, and it sounds like the summer breeze slipping through delicate green leaves. Your father is waiting, and your mother will join you soon enough.

“...Flight?” I ask, fingering the necklace I worked so hard to protect.

We don't know, Luna. We honestly don't know. But please, forget her. Come with us. We can heal what's broken inside of you. Look at yourself. Think of how much more we can help.

I do as they say, and gaze over at my reflection. Surprisingly, I look beautiful. I remember the last time I saw myself, when I glanced at the smooth surface of a pond in the woods. I looked horrible. My cheekbones were too prominent, my eyes were dead, I was far too thin, and my hair was a tangled mess. But now I shine with health. My cheeks are smooth, well curved, and have the perfect touch of pink below my eyes, which shine like they haven't for a long time. My inky locks are soft and smooth, floating as a black halo around me. I'm not too skinny, but not too fat, and am dressed in a glittering gown that is soft and light. For a moment, I admire myself. But then I remember the other part of what they said. They don't know when or even if Flight is coming.

“I can't leave her behind again,” I insist.

It's time, Luna. There's nothing you can do now.

I hesitate, blinking my bright, starry eyes. I think of pain and sorrow on one hand, and happiness and forever on the other. It shouldn't be a hard choice, but I'm leaving people I care about. Ari. Jasik. Flight. Mom. Dad. How can I just abandon them again? I had so much planned. So much I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to get engaged like Jasik did, and Flight, too. I wanted to raise children, and teach them the ways of the stars. Is it really all worth giving up? Those dreams, and those people, and that life? I'll miss them all so much. I loved my life, and it saddens me to know that I didn't realize it until I was losing it. But it's not like I have a choice. I can't go back. And, although I regret it, I can't stay here.

“Okay,” I whisper sadly, gazing up at the stars through fresh tears. “I'm ready.”


Yeah, 'cause
In this world of ancient scars,
A promise still remains.
When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.[/i]
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[L'Amelie]

This looks great! I really liked the imagery!