Author Topic: Happily Ever After  (Read 2303 times)

Offline Kirwond

  • Planewalker
  • *****
  • Posts: 75
  • Gender: Female
  • Attila the Hun with a cinnamon bun
Happily Ever After
« on: August 21, 2004, 02:56:57 PM »
Random thoughts here. :) Comments and constructive criticism welcome, as always.


     Today will be the best day of my life.

     If you’d told me that this morning, I’d have laughed in your face. You see, I’d had that dream again, the one I hated more than anything. It was the one where my father whispers about my destiny, his voice slicing through my mind, my heart, my soul. He told me that I was made to murder, and that nothing would ever be safe from me, not even those that I loved more than life itself. Only this time, it was worse, because I started to believe him.

     I woke trembling, my blood pounding, a cold slimy snake of fear oozing up my throat. I threw myself onto my knees in the early-morning light and begged the gods to take this burden from my shoulders, just as I had always done. I used to think that no one was listening, but I was wrong. After all this time, my prayers have been answered.

     I smile as the assistant closes the clamps around my wrists and ankles, cold iron kissing my bare skin. Today, I will have my heart’s desire. I will no longer be my father’s son.

     “Heya, Malik.”

     My heart lifts at the sound of her voice, as bright and welcoming as sunlight on water. “Heya, Imoen.” I waggle my fingers in a little wave. “Thanks for coming.”

     “You knew I would.”

     Yes, although I hadn’t been sure she would make it out of bed. She has grown weaker than she anticipated, but at least she is cured. I look up at her beloved face, now gaunt and pasty, but still animated, still vivid. Still Imoen.

     I owe her so much. She’s the one who found the way to erase our father’s taint. She’s the one who found the Doctor.

     “You look kinda green. You’re not going to puke on my boots, are you?”

     “I’ll try not to. I’d hate to have to buy you some new ones.”

     “You said it, buster. It took forever to find boots as cool as these.” She giggles and takes my hand in hers. Her fingers are impossibly light, like hummingbird bones. “Are you ready, little brother?”

     “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I shift on the hard pallet. “I just hope I won’t scream. It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?”

     “Only for a minute.” Her eyes darken, and her fingers grip mine with surprising strength. “It’s kinda scary at first,” she whispers. “My body didn’t want to let it go. When I woke up, I didn’t know who I was.”

     I don’t like the slackness of her face. It makes me nervous. I can almost imagine that it’s not Imoen in there, that there’s something ancient and cold behind her eyes. Something hungry, something that thinks I'll taste as sweet as a shard of choclatl.

     It’s gone before I can blink, and it’s just Imoen, smiling down at me. “But it’s all better now. I’m finally who I was meant to be. I’m free, and you will be too.”

     That’s right. I relax, squeezing her hand. Soon I’ll be free, and that’s all that matters.

     A glacial voice rings in our ears. “Is the subject ready?”

     Imoen gives my hand one last squeeze and steps back. “He’s ready. Do your voodoo thing, Doc. I want my brother back soon.”

     The Doctor’s lip curls, the closest to a smile I’ve ever seen him. “Very well. Bodhi. Prepare the Machine.”

     The Machine. I look around, goggling as though this were the first time I’d seen it. It looks like the product of a deranged mind, wires springing in all directions, clear glass tubes pulsing with a liquid rainbow. There are lights everywhere, flashing in a complicated sequence I can’t begin to understand. For a moment, I wonder if I’m crazy to trust my life to it, but that passes fast. Imoen survived, and so will I.

     The assistant walks around the room, her high black boots clicking on the gleaming tile. Her dead-white hands fly among the switches and buttons, her fingers a lightning-fast blur. The Machine hisses and crackles. Five large capsules emerge from the walls, the glass so thick that their contents waver before my eyes. For a moment, I think there are people in there.

     “The Machine is ready, brother.”

     Scratch that. I know there are people in there.  Three men, two women. They pound on the capsule walls, their mouths gaping open, but no sound reaches me over the piercing hum of the Machine.

     “Very good. Initiate the sequence.”

     One of the women seems so familiar. I stare in wonder at her face, contorted by her silent shouts, and then it hits me with all the force of a warhammer. I know the silken feel of that honey-wheat hair, how it looks spread across a feather pillow in the afternoon sunlight. I know those tilted eyes, the ever-changing crystalline color of the sea. I know the taste of her lips.

     “Imoen! Isn’t that…”

     “Shhh.” Imoen shakes her head at me. “You’re seeing things again. You’ve gotta knock that off, we’ve got work to do.”

     She has that slack, dead look to her face again. I struggle to speak, gagging on the dimly realized thoughts that come bubbling to the surface. “No, Imoen, it’s her. It’s Jaheira. Gods, I remember now, we were coming to Spellhold.” I feel sick, the lump on my left temple throbbing in time with my pulse. “We were coming to rescue y--”

     “No,” she says firmly. “You were having hallucinations, don’t you remember? You’re imagining those people. They’re not really there. One last trick of Bhaal, trying to keep you from getting the help you need.” Her eyes invite me in, and I drown in their still blue pools. “I brought you here, Malik, brought you to see the Doctor.” I shiver at the icy caress in her voice. “Don’t you remember?”

     “Yes.” The treacherous thoughts burst and sink back down where they belong. The pressure at my throat eases. “Yes, I remember.”

     The Doctor clears his throat. “Is everything under control, Bodhi? I will not tolerate any further delays.”

     “Yes, brother. We are ready to proceed.”

     I don’t look at the people anymore. I don’t look at her. They mean nothing to me. Imoen’s right. They’re just figments of my imagination.

     “Very well,” says the Doctor. “Pull the lever.”
 
     “This is it,” Imoen whispers. “Showtime, little bro.”

     The power rushes through me in savage torrents. It courses through my veins, burning away the cursed taint with purifying fire. My treacherous body twists and jerks like a fish on a hook. The pain is almost unbearable, but I force myself to relax, to surrender. I will let the Doctor’s cure pass through me, and when it is finished, only I shall remain.

     My ears roar and my stomach flips inside out. I am falling into the darkness, but I smile, my heart bursting with triumph. This is the ending I never dreamed I would be able to have. This is my happily ever after.
« Last Edit: August 22, 2004, 03:54:30 AM by Kirwond »
"Yes, I remember Avalon," he said, "a place of silver and shade and cool waters, where the stars shone like bonfires at night and the green of day was always the green of spring. Youth, love, beauty--I knew them in Avalon. Proud steeds, bright metal, soft lips, dark ale."
--Roger Zelazny

 

With Quick-Reply you can write a post when viewing a topic without loading a new page. You can still use bulletin board code and smileys as you would in a normal post.

Warning: this topic has not been posted in for at least 120 days.
Unless you're sure you want to reply, please consider starting a new topic.

Name: Email:
Verification:
Type the letters shown in the picture
Listen to the letters / Request another image
Type the letters shown in the picture:
What color is grass?:
What is the seventh word in this sentence?:
What is five minus two (use the full word)?: