08-11-2013, 07:12 AM
Caleb is not the only kin to visit the newly-dug graves of the never-washed and ever-shrouded dead.
Two days after 1999 Broadway is closed and reopened for fumigation. Fumigation. There are scars, mostly invisible. The things that can be covered. An elevator shaft or two, perhaps, remain closed. The swarm of tenants at 8:15 a.m. and 5:15 p.m. is denser in front of the elevator bays.
Still, the whole place feels disconnected, free-floating. Unmoored. She walks in shadow of the building, heels on pavement the sunlight cutting a bright swath all around and looks, see: up and up and up. Lets her gaze fall. What the hell can she see in the place that they cannot.
The shadow feels darker, though; this bleak chill crawls up the ladder of her spine, a resonant sense of disconnection.
--
The graves, underground. Hidden in the roots of the building. There are no guardians. If there are no guardians is there even a Sept?
She visits them all: all the freshly dead. Says nothing to the corpses entombed in concrete-and-earth.
And she leaves nothing behind.
Two days after 1999 Broadway is closed and reopened for fumigation. Fumigation. There are scars, mostly invisible. The things that can be covered. An elevator shaft or two, perhaps, remain closed. The swarm of tenants at 8:15 a.m. and 5:15 p.m. is denser in front of the elevator bays.
Still, the whole place feels disconnected, free-floating. Unmoored. She walks in shadow of the building, heels on pavement the sunlight cutting a bright swath all around and looks, see: up and up and up. Lets her gaze fall. What the hell can she see in the place that they cannot.
The shadow feels darker, though; this bleak chill crawls up the ladder of her spine, a resonant sense of disconnection.
--
The graves, underground. Hidden in the roots of the building. There are no guardians. If there are no guardians is there even a Sept?
She visits them all: all the freshly dead. Says nothing to the corpses entombed in concrete-and-earth.
And she leaves nothing behind.
But my heart is wild and my bones are steel
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula