Dreams & Schemes: “Like Red on a Rose” Chapter Two, Part II
Back in the impossible swamp, Rudella took her advice and felt euphoric. She needlessly carried the burden of that disappointment for almost half her life. The relief of it gone was immense, and pathetic. Dealing with the second part was at the other end of her journey. Like how she felt she wasted her life holding on to them because they were fleeting. At this end, she was a beast of burden eager to shrug off its torments.
Instead of chasing another firefly, she held out a warm hand and waited. One landed, and she conquered it. Another did, and she conquered it. Three truths became clear after the landings became routine: the victories were shallow, pleasing, and repetitious. Flashes of the same happy moments and disappointments. Her attention turned to the velvet sky, and the stars peering through the fabric. If something as fleeting as fireflies could make her feel good, the power and fury of stars could affect her in ways that would make her useless to sadness.
She climbed a weeping willow to its crown, then perched on a branch with an upward gaze. Clever got her this far, then tricky got her in. If she were wise, she’d know that her misplaced confidence was like a child toppling a sandcastle and thinking it could take on a skyscraper. But she felt that Piri was a prize she had to rush to win.
Which was why Rudella pulled down the stars, and the mania they’re heir to.
Royally Fucked
Rudella regretted it immediately.
All she could do was watch the sky fall apart. Skydrops far larger than the palm of her hand screeched to the swamp in streaks and promises of pain.
The rumbling was coming.
Foolishness she harbored about being able to handle what she put away escaped her as the velvet disappeared. She tried to leap off the tree, but she was frozen. She tried to turn away, and she was frozen.
The rumbling was closer.
She tried shouting at the descending terrors to stop, and the futility was mocked by the cacophony. Tears. So many tears.
The rumbling was.
When it had its way with Rudella and the land, she couldn’t see. Or move. She also felt safe. A manufactured safety. Whatever waited for her outside of wherever she was, it was crueler than all the waking world. But she was the one who beckoned it. Dragged it from where she told it to stay for the rest of her life. Because she didn’t want to be disobeyed while she and Piri became whatever they’ll become.
The bubble burst around her, and she was surrounded by snow she didn’t feel. Many of the stars that fell didn’t make it, instead staying slivers of memories too ashamed of her newfound strength. Others were more defiant. They delighted in standing tall and burrowing deep. Towering gravestones bound in kohl ivy and emerald roses, each a tumorous monument to assured agony she had to overcome.
It was only when Rudella approached a gravestone that the snow made its presence felt. As long as she kept her distance, it was as comforting as a warm bed after a hard day. But when, step by step, she made her intention clear, the snow was as frigid as denial to a starving child. Still she ventured, forcing herself to not look down to find out if frostbite had claimed her.
She couldn’t read the monument when she, at last, reached its summit. However, she knew who it was meant for.
Exhausted, she could only fall through the impossible foliage, into thoughts of Talullah.
Bait and Ditch
Before she gave up her pleated skirts for pencil skirts and her armwarmers for sweaters, when she wore glasses for the look and not to see, Rudella found herself at another house party. She learned her lesson from when she played Follow the Leader, but life is an unending test (sadly, with no definite answers). Nursing her Spirytus and Apple Pucker, she was about to participate in one of her biggest lessons in love. Unwillingly, since people never have a choice over who they fall for.
She was usually a “complete package” kinda gal, but Talullah’s hair and breasts caught Rudella’s attention behind her beer goggles. She had never seen a festival of colors before; a particularly grand feat with a pixie cut. As for her breasts… It was more like Rudella noticed Talullah wore an “Invader Zim” t-shirt, which was slightly stretched due to her ample quantity. A problem with being a Zim fan was that the caffeinated cartoon was infinitely quotable, but only at a massive decibel level. It’s like trying to half-ass a song by Björk or Prince at karaoke: you gotta commit, squeals and all, or sit the fuck down. Talullah knew this, hence the tee. Rudella forgot this, thanks to Spirytus. Luckily, the former thought the latter was charming when she exclaimed a quote. Nothing breaks the ice like screaming about bacon in soap.
To be concluded…
