lore-of-a-shattered-mind

[lore-of-a-shattered-mind]

You watch as I rot,

Bones bleaching, soul stripped away,

'Til there is nothing left

But the impression of wings

In soft sand

[lore-of-a-shattered-mind]

-Beach Ghost-

The sea breeze ruffled my hair and clothes, bringing with it the slightly fishy, salty smell associated with the seaside. The gravel of the car park sent sharp pricks of pain through my bare feet, making me wish I had worn shoes.

Children skudded around me, like darting fish, not noticing me as I slipped past them. Some held ice cream, others held half eaten sandwiches in their now greasy hands. Their parents watched on from the cafe, some bored, some alert, some I could almost feel the anxiety radiating from them. Elderly people were sitting with the adults, too, chatting or simply taking in the blue skied, grassy, sanduned surroundings.

As I wandered past the cafe, the tempting smells of fresh bread and coffee trailed after me. I would have to go back there later, I decided. When there were not so many people crowding the decks and hovering in the doorways. For now, I walked towards the beach, the painful gravel changing to soft, grainy sand. It stuck to my soles in an unpleasant way, forcing me to stop and brush it off before it inevitably stuck again.

The wind howled around the corner like some rabid dog, biting at my face, as I reached the expanse of sand and sea. Despite the glorious sunshine, there was still a bitter edge at this time of the early year. I both loathed it and loved it, for it promised that spring would come but had the memory of winter still floating like a stubborn mist.

A dog ran past me, more silent than its airy brethren could ever be. It leaped straight into the dunes and disappeared, the swaying grasses the only indicator of where it was. Its owner jogged up behind me, calling his pet’s name. He glanced at me with a look for help, so I pointed to the way the hound had gone and he was off, scrambling up the dune and wading through the blades of sharp grass.

As I walked, I smiled at the couples I passed, and waved to children and parents alike. They all knew me here, it seemed. To them, I was like a local folklore cryptid, walking the same path everyday, at the very same time. They knew me well, after all these hundreds of years.

After all, the beach was where my bones would wash up, picked clean and sun bleached, looking like driftwood among the flotsam, and my weathered feet left no footprints behind.

[lore-of-a-shattered-mind]

-Androids-

The shine in your eyes, it's artificial.

The beat of your heart, it's mechanical.

Your blood is clear, smeared on my hands.

Invisible.

[lore-of-a-shattered-mind]

Why, did my halo break into a thousand pieces?

Why, are my wings so weak they drag bloody on the ground?

Why, are my eyes so seared by years of light I cannot see?

Why, do my legs tremble on a solid, painful ground?

Just, why?

-Fallen Angel-