052611 -- Pondicherry
May. 27th, 2011 01:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memorialrainbowThis is the story of Pondicherry so far. PLEASE READ IT. I'll have commentary on it tomorrow.
There is a disclaimer. I would, honest to goodness, NEVER EVER DO WHAT I JUST WROTE ABOUT. Ever. It's ART. And nobody else should, either.
Pondicherry
by Emily Imes
It starts with the books. I light the spine of one, set another ablaze. Thirteen books I know by heart, written by a man who inspires me still. Goodbye, Brian. I watch them burn, catch the carpet on fire. I hurry, my yellow uniform billowing at the skirt, my boots clacking against the linoleum.
Tonight is the night.
I open the window, the smoke a sign for all to see. It's "go time." My eyes travel to the sky, hoping my friends will see the smoke and know what to do.
Beside me, Jesse climbs out of the window. He gets to the roof, then one, two -- SNAP! -- and he's off. From here to Northpointe, it's one long trail of fire, low first, then illuminating as it burns. No business or building is spared. Jesse turns tail, flying toward downtown. He sits on the library roof and pulls out his lighter. About time, he mutters. He has waited for this day for an eternity. Each book goes up in smoke as he lets the fire conquer the building. He tilts his white-haired head back and screams into the night.
"EULALIA!"
Nobody can hear him, though. It's too late. The night is silent.
Oh, please, don't cry. No, not yet. Do not let these tears fall.
Millie takes the call center. He slips in, unnoticed, sits at my desk. He plants the bomb beneath my chair with his swift fingers, pushes the chair in, and leaves. His wings unfold in the parking lot, and he takes to the skies seconds before the bomb goes off. Married to an angel, no lie.
Vivian heads to Seventh Street, looking at the theater that used to be a church. She pulls out her sledgehammer. BAM! It's gone, too. Vivian adds some kerosene for good measure.
Cookie and Rue take turns. They are the best of friends, and I've assigned them to the mall. Cookie takes Waldens, Rue takes the "smelly good store" that Jesse loves. The bombs set in the anchor stores go off without a hitch. The theater actually explodes, sending pieces of chair and screen everywhere. Serves them right for tearing down the old theater. Cookie and Rue head north and take out Hobby Lobby and the Dollar Tree, then grab frappucinos and watch Starbucks burn.
My name is Arrowtail Treefall, and I have no business being here.
Jesse's busy, so Sudie, his older brother, takes it east to Broadcast Hill. I've given him this hardest job, because I know he'll do it right. The TV building goes untouched. Instead, this bomb is planted in AM1240's studio, right below the desk where I sat that August day, three years ago. No more poker face. The building does not explode; rather, Sudie makes sure to keep the fire contained to the three studios. My recital poster still hangs in the break room.
The one I refer to as Ki-chi has known me longer than anybody really knows. To celebrate our friendship, he heads west. The middle school is unrecognizable after its remodel, but Ki-chi lights it anyway. He stands where the cafeteria used to be for a while before heading up the hill. The old high school is an elementary now, but that doesn't matter. Ki-chi takes one match, lights it, then puts it into the piano in the music room. Where it all ended. He'll let the fire burn from there. April, Ki-chi's partner in crime, works on the new high school, a shiny modern building that goes down easily.
The girl names Itsuki heads to college, where I spent much less of my time. She sprinkles gasoline on the walls, in the halls, sets the fuse in the art room. From a distance, she watches Elson Hall burn before returning to Brookover. Hallelujah, lift your voices skyward. What a friend we have in Jesus!
The house on Aspen Drive and the similar one on Greenbriar remain untouched. I am sure they will catch fire eventually, but they don't have to right now. They can stay. Give them time.
I never meant for any of this to happen. You brought me here, against my will. I've wanted to do this for eleven years but never had the chance...until now.
Don't you know that creation only happens through destruction?
The flames have consumed my apartment now, but they do not hurt me. I watch the walls as they smolder, smoke trailing out the window, as the fire dies of its own accord.
I cannot live here anymore.
Brian once wrote these words of life and death and meaning. They survive where we all do not. I cup what remains of Brian's books, pick them up off the ground. I blow into my hands, and his ashes spread throughout the empty room. Everything else is packed. My bed and furniture have already been sent. It's awkward, this mishmash of emptiness and smoldering paperbacks.
I never had the chance to meet you. Perhaps I'll never know what it means to be a warrior. But I can whisper, and I can weave. Isn't that enough?
I feel his strong hands around my shoulders, and the next I know is his arms. I let go, my tears staining his blue jacket. Jesse comes into the apartment, nearby, job done. He nods to my captor, then speaks to me.
"Come on, Star. Let's go home."
The Yaris waits in the parking lot for me. I get in alone, put the car in gear, and drive away. Out of Zanesville, out of Muskingum County, out of Ohio. My legion takes to the skies and watches over me as I head south.
There is a disclaimer. I would, honest to goodness, NEVER EVER DO WHAT I JUST WROTE ABOUT. Ever. It's ART. And nobody else should, either.
Pondicherry
by Emily Imes
It starts with the books. I light the spine of one, set another ablaze. Thirteen books I know by heart, written by a man who inspires me still. Goodbye, Brian. I watch them burn, catch the carpet on fire. I hurry, my yellow uniform billowing at the skirt, my boots clacking against the linoleum.
Tonight is the night.
I open the window, the smoke a sign for all to see. It's "go time." My eyes travel to the sky, hoping my friends will see the smoke and know what to do.
Beside me, Jesse climbs out of the window. He gets to the roof, then one, two -- SNAP! -- and he's off. From here to Northpointe, it's one long trail of fire, low first, then illuminating as it burns. No business or building is spared. Jesse turns tail, flying toward downtown. He sits on the library roof and pulls out his lighter. About time, he mutters. He has waited for this day for an eternity. Each book goes up in smoke as he lets the fire conquer the building. He tilts his white-haired head back and screams into the night.
"EULALIA!"
Nobody can hear him, though. It's too late. The night is silent.
Oh, please, don't cry. No, not yet. Do not let these tears fall.
Millie takes the call center. He slips in, unnoticed, sits at my desk. He plants the bomb beneath my chair with his swift fingers, pushes the chair in, and leaves. His wings unfold in the parking lot, and he takes to the skies seconds before the bomb goes off. Married to an angel, no lie.
Vivian heads to Seventh Street, looking at the theater that used to be a church. She pulls out her sledgehammer. BAM! It's gone, too. Vivian adds some kerosene for good measure.
Cookie and Rue take turns. They are the best of friends, and I've assigned them to the mall. Cookie takes Waldens, Rue takes the "smelly good store" that Jesse loves. The bombs set in the anchor stores go off without a hitch. The theater actually explodes, sending pieces of chair and screen everywhere. Serves them right for tearing down the old theater. Cookie and Rue head north and take out Hobby Lobby and the Dollar Tree, then grab frappucinos and watch Starbucks burn.
My name is Arrowtail Treefall, and I have no business being here.
Jesse's busy, so Sudie, his older brother, takes it east to Broadcast Hill. I've given him this hardest job, because I know he'll do it right. The TV building goes untouched. Instead, this bomb is planted in AM1240's studio, right below the desk where I sat that August day, three years ago. No more poker face. The building does not explode; rather, Sudie makes sure to keep the fire contained to the three studios. My recital poster still hangs in the break room.
The one I refer to as Ki-chi has known me longer than anybody really knows. To celebrate our friendship, he heads west. The middle school is unrecognizable after its remodel, but Ki-chi lights it anyway. He stands where the cafeteria used to be for a while before heading up the hill. The old high school is an elementary now, but that doesn't matter. Ki-chi takes one match, lights it, then puts it into the piano in the music room. Where it all ended. He'll let the fire burn from there. April, Ki-chi's partner in crime, works on the new high school, a shiny modern building that goes down easily.
The girl names Itsuki heads to college, where I spent much less of my time. She sprinkles gasoline on the walls, in the halls, sets the fuse in the art room. From a distance, she watches Elson Hall burn before returning to Brookover. Hallelujah, lift your voices skyward. What a friend we have in Jesus!
The house on Aspen Drive and the similar one on Greenbriar remain untouched. I am sure they will catch fire eventually, but they don't have to right now. They can stay. Give them time.
I never meant for any of this to happen. You brought me here, against my will. I've wanted to do this for eleven years but never had the chance...until now.
Don't you know that creation only happens through destruction?
The flames have consumed my apartment now, but they do not hurt me. I watch the walls as they smolder, smoke trailing out the window, as the fire dies of its own accord.
I cannot live here anymore.
Brian once wrote these words of life and death and meaning. They survive where we all do not. I cup what remains of Brian's books, pick them up off the ground. I blow into my hands, and his ashes spread throughout the empty room. Everything else is packed. My bed and furniture have already been sent. It's awkward, this mishmash of emptiness and smoldering paperbacks.
I never had the chance to meet you. Perhaps I'll never know what it means to be a warrior. But I can whisper, and I can weave. Isn't that enough?
I feel his strong hands around my shoulders, and the next I know is his arms. I let go, my tears staining his blue jacket. Jesse comes into the apartment, nearby, job done. He nods to my captor, then speaks to me.
"Come on, Star. Let's go home."
The Yaris waits in the parking lot for me. I get in alone, put the car in gear, and drive away. Out of Zanesville, out of Muskingum County, out of Ohio. My legion takes to the skies and watches over me as I head south.
