Regina Saxony
epilogue
There’s a simplicity about it all, how it fleeted us when we were young, when we thought the world was clambering above us, when we thought we’d seen the worst and been through the worst and we were traumatized—oh how we were scared of living and stretching our arms out, reaching for that infinite future that we control with our own hands and thoughts.
Ilya swore she had birch bark for skin, it was translucent and silvery in this indescribable austerity that was equally as hard and distant. How his eyes would glitter like stars. How they’d look at each other and laugh with the gleeful carelessness in the later years while they still ached of that void, that distant rodina constantly beckoning and joints creaking. Looming. Nevertheless, it was life. It must go on.
And as we ache forward in a life as meaningless as the next, we learn. We laugh. We love a little more. We talk quieter until our voices are snuffed to whispers of the wind across that vast open unknown.
And if that isn’t humanity.
Ilya swore she had birch bark for skin, it was translucent and silvery in this indescribable austerity that was equally as hard and distant. How his eyes would glitter like stars. How they’d look at each other and laugh with the gleeful carelessness in the later years while they still ached of that void, that distant rodina constantly beckoning and joints creaking. Looming. Nevertheless, it was life. It must go on.
And as we ache forward in a life as meaningless as the next, we learn. We laugh. We love a little more. We talk quieter until our voices are snuffed to whispers of the wind across that vast open unknown.
And if that isn’t humanity.
♠ ♠ ♠
that's all folks. I wanted to kill her in the Spanish Influenza, but I couldn't. I might make a sequel.ALSO, THIS STORY GOT ON THE GOOD FICTION LIST AT PROJECT FICTION EEEK. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.
Thank you all so much