Making Enemies (When It's All Over, We Still Have to Clear Up)
Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 10:21:00 AM"I never knew the taste of blood till now,
It's clear I never should have known."
"If you shut your eyes very tight and you try to forget something with all you might, you might, End up eventually erasing the condemning memory, but all that effort will almost make you taste blood - make you feel the strangely intense power of the blood that flows within you,that makes you feel red, make you see red., and the realisation will make you feel giddy; it shall empower you, it shall frighten you, because it is in that fascinating moment that you realise what you truly are capable of doing in you anger"
She shut the book and flung it across the room, stunned and slightly pleased to hear a sorry 'thud' as it hit the wall and slumped to the floor with a crumble and crackle of pages. The blood, her blood, was rushing through, humming pleasantly in her ears, and she stared at her ink-stained hands all red and sweaty from the arguments and the subsequent writings.The clammy warmth was new - now she looked up, now she saw him.
He saw her writing furiously, her hands a blur as she struggled to pen the thoughts that raced in her head. He saw her fling the book across the room with a carelessly powerful flick of the wrist. She saw the glimmer in her eyes, and he watched transfixed as she stood against the window, staring incredulously at her own hands. She was wild, she was a silhouette as she stood, a black figure against the glaring sunlight pouring through the windows, her hair a mass of wispy flames that looked both incongruous and perfect against her face.
She saw him at the edge of the room, he was looking at her, as if he had never seen her before, in a way that he had never looked at her before. He cut a lean figure in the shadows, a face too childish, and an expression too serious. He had always been so secretive, and everytime he spoke to you, you felt special, because it felt like you were good enough to know what he was telling you. He had always been distant, she'd never understood it,
she had admired it, but never been envious. Today, she wanted nothing more to do with it.
No one ever understood why they had ever bought that house - the hallways sliced through the architecture, cordoning off parts of the house, relegating sections to permanent illumination and total darkness. They fell in love with it instantly, it was a house, they thought, built especially for them.
She was a creation of the Sun, she was born for the daytime, for all the spotlights, she was born to shine, she needed to glow, and the light was hers.
And the darkness was his, he revelled in the shade, he revelled in her shade. He loved to hide, to observe unnoticed, always the queer half-smile, always the slightly supercilious expression.
She was the fire, he was the darkness - he was that darkness in the heart of her flame, and they co-existed;
precariously,
dangerously,
wonderfully.
Everyone was slightly afraid of them - jealous of them - amazed at them. They were a whirlwind, chaotically impulsive, inexplicably destructive, one's presence sparking off the volatility in the other, at once it was calm, they were serene, silent, separate, and it was
just the calm before another storm.
But that was all in the past, the final storm had raged through, even they could not withstand it, and even now, the debris lay strewn.
She had smashed his favourite record against the wall - "I never really liked it anyway", she had whispered, with glittering eyes.
He had ripped her favourite book, the cover in one hand, torn pages flying out of the other - "I didn't like it either", he smiled back, with
cold, cold eyes.
He had pulled the curtains shut, closed all the windows - "Hurts my eyes". She had set his desk on fire, "Likewise."
They stood, he having cast darkness where she had shone, she having brought light into all his shadows.
They felt exultant, they felt feral - he could see how madly her eyes glinted, she could feel his cold wrath rising, and it was exciting. They realised then that it was all over, she had burnt it down, he had covered it, and there was nothing left.
He saw her now among the ashes, while the torn pages whistled around. She looked up at him defiant, and as he shifted his weight from one foot to another, she heard the faintly satisfying crunch of broken vinyl.
"I'm leaving tonight", she said, flatly.
He nodded, "Alright", then clicked the door open,
And walked out into the sunlight.
(Note: First off, this isn't really inspired by anything, if you must know. I just wrote it last afternoon because it was too hot and I didn't feel like doing Math. I don't like it anymore, but whatever. The opening paragraph on blood is something that I actually wrote a while ago. I promised you an Alter-Ego post, and here it is. And yes, it's in a story-format, not actually inspired by Anushka's story, just a startling coincidence. Much thanks to Snow Patrol's song 'Making Enemies' (Album - When it's All Over, We Still Have to Clear Up) for the title, and also the song 'Ways and Means' (Album - Final Straw), because the first two lines are lyric quotes. They're also very nice songs, in case you're looking for downloads.
Oh, and specifically, the argument didn't really happen, but I would, oddly, love to have such a ferociously enervating fight. Yeh, yeh. I'm done.)
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intense.
reminded me of vampire Knight.....somewhat ^_^
Don't you love how I refer to that poem as though it's universally known, instead of something you once randomly wrote?
Azu, I have no idea what Vampire Knight is, but I think it's something you like, so I'm happy.
Anushka, One day Warmer Astral Climate will be in print, and then we'll see, you were right all along. :D (And it was not written RANDOMLY. How do you write something RANDOMLY?)