sparkdust

United States of America

isabella. she/they. nb sapphic.

Message from Writer

i want to show you everything in my words because when it comes down to hell and high water all i will have left in me at the end of it all will be my words

Chapter 1: The Secret

February 27, 2018

FREE WRITING

2
The woods hide a secret. The woods hide many secrets, but this one they hid particularly well. This secret is one inside of a mausoleum, one you might see in a graveyard. In these woods, there is no need for a graveyard. The rotting floor of the forest takes all the dead and one day even the bones will be absorbed into the dark, rich soil. The moss and grass will grow from the soil and feed the deer who will feed the wolves who will one day die and be eaten by the fungi and flies, and then the bones of those wolves will turn into soil, from which mosses and grass will grow.

The woods have hidden secrets before, within the trees and whispered to the flowers. It's not uncommon for moss and creepers and vines to cover secrets, old boxes, keys, bones, and pull them into the earth for safe keeping. But this secret is one that they cannot pull into the earth, not quickly.

The mausoleum is made of white marble, but now the stone is covered in vines and moss, and flowers bloom in the cracks in the floor inside the mausoleum; the forest is slowly working to take over the stone building. Its edges are too sharp, its walls are too straight, its entire being is unnatural. Even more unnatural is the thing the mausoleum hides, the thing the forest hides.

The door of the mausoleum is iron (doubly unnatural to the inhabitants of the forest) and rusted over. Some vines have started to crawl up the posts of the iron fence that keeps the secret hidden inside. Some flowers have followed the vines, and in the decades that followed the emergence of the secret, the vines have managed to work their way well into the mausoleum.

Deep inside the mausoleum is the secret. It is sitting on a stool, hand raised, mouth open, and head tilted back like a dramatic singer. It used to be one. A singer, that is, not a dramatic. It was never dramatic, not on purpose. It always hated the limelight, and yet above the stool, there is a hole in the ceiling of the mausoleum, and it shines sunlight on the secret almost like the spotlights it used to hate.

It's been a long time since it's sung, and a slightly shorter time since it's danced or moved. Now there is tarnish on its feet and legs, and its throat is rusty, and its arms are stuck in the position it was last in when its batteries ran out.

For a long time, the ceiling of the mausoleum was unbroken, and the darkness of the tomb kept its batteries from ever re-charging. But now, with the spotlight crack in the marble ceiling, the batteries of the secret have begun to recharge.

For the first time in decades, the secret's eyes glow. They glow dimly, hardly more than a flicker, but they glow. It cannot move, not quite yet, for it is too covered in dust and rusted unmoving. There are some flowers that have grown in the dirt in between its joints and in its chest. It cannot move yet.

But the secret is awake.
(creator realized their robot couldn't be touched by fae if made of steel)
(robot realized this as well and created a cover and became vulnerable)

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  • February 27, 2018 - 2:34pm (Now Viewing)

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