Keep the Faith

Alena, adeu.

Lightning; beacons of imperial, prudent light that dissipate the trembling of orogenesis and create earth-acquiring supernovas, only in a more hyperbole presentation that even disrupts the momentum of isostasy synchronizing maelstroms of thundering instigation impaling the air with the succession of reflecting the incubus of a disposed horticulture dismembered into venomous holocaust.

Thunder; anger, rage and demise devised into a sherbet bomb of a thousand marches with a machiavellian tinge that electricutes the imminent destruction it could cause when its perfidious abacus of uncompensated ordeals is released by the charlatans of nature, and the satire of invective disagreement with atoned subordianates is separated by bon mot and the arguments on their savoir-faire.

Of such horrible beasts, 12-year old, Gerard Way shivered with the proclivity to only be comforted by the warmth and limelight of his siblings or his parents. The glacier cold rain caused a terrain of countless downpours upon the earth’s vulnerable and barren, stoned streets of crackling asphalt and sundry. He never experienced something as horrendous as this.

Solemnly tired did he lay on the bed, the ceiling suspended above him, casting the illusion of the sky to drift in his mind. The peaceful, ebony oblivion of sleep should have flattered the lashes on his eyes, but unfortunately fell to failure.

The expanding moonbeam sliced silver and cut like the hairsbreadth of glass against a worn leather scabbard. The clouds that hovered over the moon distilled perfection. Ivory highlighted by silver flowed tranquil divinity over the undone floor.

He longed for a dream to drift him upon the words of sleep. But so many thoughts occupied his mind and obliterated the faint drowsy stimulation intrigued by slumber. Above all the contrasted figures that defined an impression over the black oblivion of the night, the corona that would introduce the liberation of sunrise reigned over his emotions.

The caterwauling sound of the clock artlessly seconded the linear ideals that endlessly flowed within the boundaries surrounding his mind. A period sauntering drowsily within the dark hours awakes no meaning of being awake at all.

How ironic it was for him to liberate thoughts in his mind, yet simultaneously he felt so exhausted with them being the only ideas that stood to glide free within his mind. To delve the mood to sleep was an obstacle the night had to warm a threshold on him. Could he concentrate in doing so?

Although the heavy dark and tainted black curtains shattered his vision from seeing so, Gerard could hear the echoes of the distorted rain crashing like mirrors onto the soil of the earth. Nights like these were perfect for the welcome of an encountering reminisced semblance held damned upon the boy’s family and his sanguine ingenuity.

An unstoppable avalanche of precipitation swarmed a kaleidoscope of seismisms that flustered debris, and the cabal of fleshy ornaments to fulfill the sky with a scent of nicotine and gasoline trousseau. Tonights prognosticate was unanimously horrible, as it provided no dysfunctional sense of familial benefit. Gerard suffered most from this loss.

The dark hours poured and rained glazed blue rain tears falling like ashes above the ebony-inked clouds embellishing the sky. The moonless misty domes of the night filled the world with such aura that such heath would eventually resolve in a dilemma where it is none but the sadness of a lost loved one.

Gerard’s head softly lay on his pillow as he listened to the soft wind breathing through his soul and resiliently wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

Thump...thump...thump...

The metronome of his heartbeat came to a sudden climactic halt; as if it were a pendulum dying from it's endless extraordinary subliminally that suddenly froze in contusion. By his intuition, he might have felt...

…This night was missing something.

It hid some mysterious aspect even in the full veiled aura of silver moonlight that drapes over the dark hours beseeched the tracery of a lost soul. It unlocked an unmediated prayer that beseeched the gold and silver figures unadorned by this dawning light when day finds a contour in the sky where it can stretch to expand. The corona of the blue corn moon even made this message unanimous.

Only was it this night when he can found the enchanted revelations of a figure's past from every veiling truth the daylight conceals. Instead, this night found a way to search for the contours the day can't reveal. The reflection of the moonlight sliced through every gauche of rain that fell from defenestrating from the omnipresent apse pierced with Gainesboro pigment saturation. And it’s façade rested on…

…A picture of himself and his long gone sister.

“Alena…” Gerard’s monotonous voice croaked as he saw his sister’s face, confined in that little memoir.

“She was just so perfect, she had to leave. Even as small as she was, she suffered from carcinogenic ailments and obdurate ague that never bothered to end. I miss her so much… Al never deserved this. She was someone who wanted to be strong even until she died, and she wanted to be remembered…” As Gerard’s voice spoke these, he was making his own amendment to Alena.

“…But she had no friends. People teased her for being different, and never sought that side of her that showed she was strong. She never hated anyone, either. She was the best sister I could ever have…Mikey could not even remember…” Tears reflecting agony and guilt pricked themselves from Gerard’s eyes.

“She even said…no matter what, she would always love me. She would love Mikey. She would even love Frank, Ray, and good old Matt. No one could argue with a heart like that. But…she just had to die.” He set himself in a very lachrymose disposition. His vulnerable little heart, mortal enough to only bind together the little corpuscles in the spate of his fleshy blood and warrens of veins.

But all that was broken.

“Alena was a hero, but she did not even know it. To me, she was. The ever-so strong, statuesque, and altruistic Alena Gee Rush-Way. …Sis…I miss you.”

He remembered that single night when the incubus started to diminish the mauve violet engrossment he once shared with Alena.

“You know Gee, you are a very special person?”

“Well, someday you will be inspiration to all, Al.”

“I want to. But something alWay stops me from that. No one even gives me a chance.”

“But you are somebody to me. You’re my younger sister. Do I want anything more than that?”

“A chance for that somebody to live.”


Retreating from his former bedroom, Gerard motioned to Alena’s barren and deserted room, which was surrounded by a plethora of untouched debris and doctrines, manuscripts, and verses recorded on paperback books. Old pictures and sketches, and shreds of the ivory canvas clustered in feathers onto the floor as Gerard introspected the entire solace.

Thrown buckets of paint splashed onto the floor, a rainbow of colors dividing into a spectrum on the shag carpet like an inevitable ultraviolet sherbet bomb of divided personas and personifications of hues, gradients, and shades. Tints of metallic gold and silver were sprayed onto the floor due to the amount of spray paint dissipated from their containers.

Staring at the floor, he even summoned the sentenced heath that even this accidental mess dismayed onto the floor was even more adequate than any vision that can comprehend the remembrance of Alena Way. What laid in the debris of the room was glitter, paste, a broad assortment of colored pencils and paintbrushes, paint, crayons, markers, paper, and torn artworks. If that didn’t supply as much of an emblem of remembrance, nothing would symbolize the heraldry of that blessed little girl.

Gerard sat in the middle of it all, lying at the foot of his dead sister’s albumen-corn bed. He remembered all that they did as they kept their tedious familial relationship intact. His little sister idolized him; made him feel like a somebody. He even took back the favor in making her feel in emotional boundary like someone special…because she was special.

His oblation drained an epiphany that showed his sins against his sister. He hurt her a lot at most times but regardless of whatever fettle considered, she still loved him. Arose adjacently contained in a vase dried up. It's red pigment faded into burgundy...just like the ignition of his joy stood up and left.

Standing at his sister’s windowsill, his attentive went toward the thousands of droplets and diamonds rivaling each other to meet the sinews of the windows' glass surfaces. The chilblains augmenting atrocious pain commenced a sour pain forging into the stimulation of distorting, parsimonious pangs in the minor Metacarpals of his hand.

His fingers slid onto the glass, slowly eliciting the cadence of a ruminated prayer kept in heart. This also seconded the momentum of vulnerable tears, searing the flesh of his cheeks.

The hilts of his copasetic apathy halted also as he realized the rain droplets were flowing down to a tainted careen. Rapidly shutting the gossamer curtains framing the window, the boy got off the window seat and locked his door. He silently whispered his own method of vespers, which unlocked the sanity of his indulgence.

Scouring through photo albums, he shed mandatory tears as the memories of each conceptual visual replenished the most cherished moments of his life. They subdued a mantra of endless serendipity and of scenarios where he shall never leave.

Looking at the plethora of this contained solace, Gerard rummaged through old belongings and cherished them, as he was still alive. As he skimmed through them, he found a pitchfork red rose in the middle of two album pages. Attached to one of its thorns, it said:

“Thank you for finding this. I tried with all my love to keep this alive, and whoever you may be, I’m handing that love back to you. Carry on the faith that set me free, and someday you’ll be set free. You are as of now, a hero. You’ve forever been…
Gerard.

XOXO
A.”

Gerard, appalled by that lachrymose letter of such beautiful horticulture that expanded the chimerical aspect of a beautiful maudlin farewell, said, "Life’s been so hard without you here standing by my side. Everyone, I guess, feels the same Way...but none are here to share this moment with me. It’s just not the same you know? But, I guess no life is the same. But it will alWays turn out for the best...I know you're happy up there. I'm proud of you, sis. I've alWays believed in you...and no matter what, I'll alWays be with you...anywhere. Even up there, I'll smile toward the clouds, proud of you to be up there. My younger sister. In heaven.”

The moment he crumbled all his emotions and contained them in his doctrine to his sister was more than he could ever give. His love for this immaculate person was much to bear, like a bullet scrambling your brain, capillaries starting to leak fluid, causing swelling that puts pressure on your motor neurons, and voluntary motor activity fails. Blood ran an iota faster than a jettisoned perambulator, beating profusely toward his suppressing ordeal which he never had done…say goodbye.

“I love you, Al.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Keep The Faith for all these times.