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the beginning of the end


The last thing I remember is the smoke. No, the flames. The crowd. The faint voice of Mother calling out to me from the square, and not remembering exactly what she said. All I knew to do was go to the woods.

She said if anything were ever to happen, "Go to the woods first." She didn't tell me why. Now that I think of it, I don't know the truth about anything.

So dear friend, dear sweet book, I have you with me. Parchment. Pages. Empty as you may be. I will fill you up. Now if only it were the right things and not silly dreams, yes, Mother would want that. Write every day. Not wishes, but the truth. How it really was.

She wouldn't let me breathe a word of this to anyone. She never really let me be who I was supposed to be. I watched someone else from a distance take my place. It seems like a play now. A play that ended badly. I weep for her. She is just ashes now.

Yes, a part of me is glad it wasn't me. But why, all god and goddess let it be? How terrible it has to be? Have we learned nothing? Will dragons roam free for eternity?

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