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rossitan mantigo {four} fin
Jul 18, 2015 15:52:02 GMT -5
Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jul 18, 2015 15:52:02 GMT -5
ROSE |
Now in the balance of infinite thingsStirs not a feather; the universe swingsPoised on the stealth of ineffable wings.
They tell you that A is for apple, B is for banana, and C is for cat. But what they don't tell you, is that the simple swoosh that creates an M, is for magic.
We're brought up surrounded by thick shells. Parents, carers, siblings trying to cushion us from the disgust and pain that lurks behind every corner, between every nook and cranny. Their efforts add up to nothing but only a brave and gallant, failed attempt. It is our choice to expose ourselves into the skies, soar through the moon and stars at our own freewill. Why do they tell us it's wrong?
And that's exactly what we are: knitted from the light cast by the diamonds in the night-time, woven together with the stories of our past lives with fingertips of gold. We are created from the skin and bones of magic itself, and so the stardust that resides inside us dances with the winds of our breath.
Our feet tap in time with the rhythm.
There's few people like me, and once I find someone who is of a similar structure then I but only cast them aside. They claim to be special, an outsider, stranded on an island of difference and insecurity. I'm not the same as them, the power I hold in my fingernail is stronger than the energy that surges through their blood. I have abilities that they don't.
I can see them, feel them and be them.
Sorcery can be disguised in many fashions. Historical books of times gone past tell the story of witches dressed in all black with pointy hats that sit atop their head like crowns. We're not all like that. We look just like the rest of you, blonde hair, straight in the cold air but curled in the humidity of summer. A face cut in all the wrong places, slender bodies to keep up an ever-growing mind.
Eyes: the window to the soul are auctioned off in many colours before our birth. They come in fascinating shades of blue, green, grey, brown. Red and more vibrant coloured eyes are just a myth, even someone with the smallest capacity could understand. I was sold brown, musky and shaded like fog to a swampy water. What we buy before our time is what we receive when blind, and once a hand is shaken then we see the world for the first time.
I'll look at you the same way I look at them. Once again I'll take a stand whilst demonstrating my usual knack of speaking the uncomfortable truths we hide from. I have never been afraid to put a foot down and voice what I believe, I am prepared to extend a forcefield forward and watch as people slither back into society's place for them. They often try to mirror my medicine back to me yet there is no security in society for me.
Though we are crafted from the edge of existence itself, this is not embodied inside of us. Even when my distant and dreamy demeanour takes a hold of me, I'm still there. Peel back the layers of reassurance and bluntness and you'll find a decrepit skeleton forged from the tar of what remains. All the things which we shelter in hopes they never make it beyond the first gate intertwine with one another: manipulation, greed, nonconformist.
But at times we are thankful for our demons, when the bars of their cells are warped and they haunt us like sad ghosts in search of a friend.
It was in a ghost that I found my talents. I awoken by the hushed whisper of a memory, a crying mother with a frozen babe in her arms. She brushed around me like cloth to skin, keeping a watchful eye over me as I went about my daily needs. She transformed me, she saw me grow from girl to goddess, and I saw her but only fade from one grey to another until finally in her place was air.
When she did leave, once and for all, for better for worse, I found myself stuck in the cold, hard norm. Life: swarming around me like a hive of frantic bees, I knew there had to be a way to find my sweet escape, and it was in the words "abra cadabra" that a path drew itself and my footsteps followed down it.
They questioned my morals, perceived me as "having a screw loose", blaming my actions on my naivety. I would only mutter more words under my breath and perform rituals when the night struck in hopes that they would pay. Some would be for the good, some would be for the bad, and some would be for the ugly: for they can be healed from the disease with the snap of my fingers.
Riches flooded in as my mind's eye read their palm, "you've got the grim" I'd say as symbols appeared in the bottom of a tea cup. It's simple to live this way, enjoyable for both parties, rewarding for the side of mine.
There shall come a day where I take a hold of it all, to brave through the snowstorms of sin and play with the world in my hand. A window will close, and a door will open to a new place, a sweeter place, where peace and harmony are slaves to the ability of magic.Art thou not burn in the fires of my will?See, by flashes of crimson and killI am the master,the magic is still.
rossitan mantigo, seventeen, district four, odair
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