Chernobyl

Distinctly, she remembers the quiet of home, so lost among the darkened trees that not a single soul would her cries. Perhaps her mother had wanted it that way, maybe she had wanted to conceal her prize and chain it to the stony floors of hell so that she may be able to revel in her conquest as a predator that plays with its food. Chilling wisps of resonant anger alight coolly along her spine and cause the hairs to stand at attention, while she looks out into the darkness that no mortal eye could see beyond. Her eyes widen in the blackness, mimicking the saturation of light, or really the lack thereof. She is comfortable here, biding time before it slips away entirely and there is nothing left but decisions to make and fears to face. She had stopped praying to the Gods long ago when they had stopped answering her calls. But here in the Basin and Helovia as a whole, she knew that she would once again have to learn to accept their rule. However, her jaded heart felt no need to call upon them now as she slowly began to lose herself to the ethereal magic of the shadows. They would not bring her light now as they did not bring her help then and she was accepting of the thought, though it pained her minimally.

Shaking off the dewy cold that had elapsed in the moonlight, she moved forward into the trees, hidden among their limbs where she would soon find solace. She could recall the times they had given her comfort when her mother had come calling, searching the forest for her dark, little temptress, so patient at first while cooing sweet nonsense into the open night air. At times Chernobyl had fooled herself into thinking that things had changed so suddenly, that her mother’s voice did carry upon it notions of ill-placed love, that it did not seek her unwilling ears only to evoke from her such sickening sentiment. She shook her hear now, unfocused and confused, lost in the moment that was altogether whimsical until it was shattered by the distant shrill of halfhearted welcome.

She was hesitant to unveil her position, but as she had done so many times before, she came. From the shadows she emerged, black eyes that appeared to be unseeing, gracing the other mare with curious intent. She had no answer for her newest companion and instead stood solemnly before her, a mere ghost from the forest, misting languidly from their depths. Her lips did not part, though thoughts roiled in her mind, questioning the songstress who now sought her junction. She was similarly colored, though adorned multicolored feathers throughout her mane. Did this symbolize authority? Chernobyl was unsure. However, this uncertainty brought about a sense of obligation to acknowledge the unnamed mare. “You called?” Her voiced cracked from ill-use, though she did nothing to cover the strange sound and instead settled for gazing intently at the strange mare.

For a moment the silence was unbearable, making Chernobyl turn away to study the impending night. She longed to disappear into the smoky tendrils of darkness that called out to her so lovingly as it had held her through long nights of abuse and sadness and ultimately pain. However, it did nothing to nurse the building anger that seemed to surface at the thought of her childhood. If only memories were so well forgotten as passing faces on the street. But, this was not the case and she was bound to her mother’s memory like a candle is bound to flame.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away