Status: In progress.
The World's Name
Chapter One
There was an idea in her head that she was going to find out the world’s name. The notion came from a quote she had found, it had long been lost in the dusty pages of a broken-spined book by Robert Penn Warren; “I longed to know the world’s name.” In seven words, there was a story – a story of adventure and a beautiful collapse and something about that glorious demise captivated her. She always liked the idea of a sad ending.
Rose was breath taking. Where ever she walked everyone became aware of her presence, her footsteps were silent, almost as if she were gliding. She was unreal. Always off in a world of her own, one that no one knew about, one that she liked to keep secret. Even in the middle of conversation you could see threads and wires sewing elaborate, delicate, fragile thoughts behind her eyes. You could see that she was ready, ready to jump, ready to fall – to where or to what was a mystery, even to me.
It was autumn, her favorite season. We walked along side each other, me unable to look anywhere but her – her far away, looking at the birds. It was always hard for me to keep my eyes off of her, mainly because I was never quite convinced that she was real. Her skin was milky and reminded me of the moon and the wind had tousled her hair about her shoulders. Everything about her was stunning, but her lips, her lips were my favorite part of her. They were the color of the flowers that a bride would carry down the aisle and they always looked well kissed. For me, the best times were when they were indented with small engravings as a result of a long night or day of her wires and threads weaving even more intricately than usual. Her lips were like that while we were walking and I was looking at her and she was looking at the birds.
“I want to fly.” Rose said her pale grey eyes transfixed on the flock of wings strewn across the sky. “I want to never feel the weight of the ground beneath my feet.” She always said things like that. They always scared me, I didn’t really know why. “I want to fly and I want to be free and I want to feel.” She suddenly smiled, letting out her laugh that always reminded me of honeydew and the smell of maple syrup. “What an idea.” She said quietly. She had stopped walking now, she was looking past the birds, past the guard rail, past the purple and red leaves of the trees lying below. She looked up at me. Not past me, no wires and threads in her head – for the first time she was here. Then as suddenly as she was here, she was gone and the last thing I heard was her laugh that reminded me of honeydew and maple syrup.
Rose was unreal. She was breathtaking. And she was gone. She had the idea in her head that she was going to find out the worlds name. For me, that name was Rose.
They never found the body.
I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why she chose that moment, I don’t know if she thought she could survive the drop, maybe she thought that her answers were down there on the frost bitten trees. I don’t know if she thought it through, if she really understood what would happen when she jumped. I don’t know how I never realized just how far away she really was from the rest of us; I don’t know how I let it happen.
My first reaction was not surprise, nor fear, nor sadness. I was angry. The only thing I felt was a deep swell in the pit of my stomach and my fingernails pricking blood from my palms. Then I screamed, people later told me that when I screamed it didn’t sound human, but oh boy did I feel human in that moment. I felt every single crushing thing that makes up a human and I couldn’t stand. I fell to the ground so hard and so quickly the skin stretched across my knees broke, rocks nestling themselves through my jeans and into me. I didn’t notice when my tears started, and I didn’t notice when my anger paled into sadness. I preferred the anger. The anger had been blinding it had seared through me, making every nerve stand on end and I was numb to everything but the scorching of my insides.
When the anger subsided I had no protection and I was on fire again, but it was different, I was aware of every little thing around me. A snail was crouched underneath the guard rail trudging towards shelter; the wind had picked up and pressed the remnants of her perfume against my nose, the sky was painting itself lilac and those birds, those damn birds, were one by one leaving my line of vision, their squawks deafening me to where I could only hear a dull roar, a soft hum. It took them a long time to drop away from my eyes, a lot longer than it had taken her.
Rose was breath taking. Where ever she walked everyone became aware of her presence, her footsteps were silent, almost as if she were gliding. She was unreal. Always off in a world of her own, one that no one knew about, one that she liked to keep secret. Even in the middle of conversation you could see threads and wires sewing elaborate, delicate, fragile thoughts behind her eyes. You could see that she was ready, ready to jump, ready to fall – to where or to what was a mystery, even to me.
It was autumn, her favorite season. We walked along side each other, me unable to look anywhere but her – her far away, looking at the birds. It was always hard for me to keep my eyes off of her, mainly because I was never quite convinced that she was real. Her skin was milky and reminded me of the moon and the wind had tousled her hair about her shoulders. Everything about her was stunning, but her lips, her lips were my favorite part of her. They were the color of the flowers that a bride would carry down the aisle and they always looked well kissed. For me, the best times were when they were indented with small engravings as a result of a long night or day of her wires and threads weaving even more intricately than usual. Her lips were like that while we were walking and I was looking at her and she was looking at the birds.
“I want to fly.” Rose said her pale grey eyes transfixed on the flock of wings strewn across the sky. “I want to never feel the weight of the ground beneath my feet.” She always said things like that. They always scared me, I didn’t really know why. “I want to fly and I want to be free and I want to feel.” She suddenly smiled, letting out her laugh that always reminded me of honeydew and the smell of maple syrup. “What an idea.” She said quietly. She had stopped walking now, she was looking past the birds, past the guard rail, past the purple and red leaves of the trees lying below. She looked up at me. Not past me, no wires and threads in her head – for the first time she was here. Then as suddenly as she was here, she was gone and the last thing I heard was her laugh that reminded me of honeydew and maple syrup.
Rose was unreal. She was breathtaking. And she was gone. She had the idea in her head that she was going to find out the worlds name. For me, that name was Rose.
They never found the body.
I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why she chose that moment, I don’t know if she thought she could survive the drop, maybe she thought that her answers were down there on the frost bitten trees. I don’t know if she thought it through, if she really understood what would happen when she jumped. I don’t know how I never realized just how far away she really was from the rest of us; I don’t know how I let it happen.
My first reaction was not surprise, nor fear, nor sadness. I was angry. The only thing I felt was a deep swell in the pit of my stomach and my fingernails pricking blood from my palms. Then I screamed, people later told me that when I screamed it didn’t sound human, but oh boy did I feel human in that moment. I felt every single crushing thing that makes up a human and I couldn’t stand. I fell to the ground so hard and so quickly the skin stretched across my knees broke, rocks nestling themselves through my jeans and into me. I didn’t notice when my tears started, and I didn’t notice when my anger paled into sadness. I preferred the anger. The anger had been blinding it had seared through me, making every nerve stand on end and I was numb to everything but the scorching of my insides.
When the anger subsided I had no protection and I was on fire again, but it was different, I was aware of every little thing around me. A snail was crouched underneath the guard rail trudging towards shelter; the wind had picked up and pressed the remnants of her perfume against my nose, the sky was painting itself lilac and those birds, those damn birds, were one by one leaving my line of vision, their squawks deafening me to where I could only hear a dull roar, a soft hum. It took them a long time to drop away from my eyes, a lot longer than it had taken her.