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by Damon Fauci Sat Nov 18, 2017 2:26 pm

Nightime thoughts

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Nightime thoughts

Post by Epiphany on Sun Jan 18, 2009 3:52 pm

Epiphany was upset, no, she was angry; maybe she was hurt and perhaps it as all three, or a mixture of the entire emotional spectrum. She had let her emotions get the better of her, had stopped thinking rationally and things had gone completely awry.

She continued to walk up the road and head towards the Inn. With every step she took she recalled bits of the conversation she had with Sean. Why did she even stop to talk to them? She shouldn’t have even bothered. Hello. Good to see you. Goodbye. Those were the only words she should have spared. It would have saved her from a lot of undo and un-needed stress. Now look at her, her stomach clenched in knots, the collar of her shirt was torn, and all the ants and other small creature on the ground were being stepped on relentlessly and without care as she walked along the road.

Epiphany pulled the door open and entered into the Inn. Her jaw was locked and her eyes were dead set ahead, if anyway was hanging around the main floor she didn’t see them. You might not have wanted get in her way anyway. Short order was made with the steps and as she climbed she felt her emotions turning towards angry.

“Guess he saw no reason to stick around.”

Those last words echoed in her mind as she stormed down the hall of the second floor. Her fist balled up and she whipped her wrap against the floor. "…. I don’t care!” she growled as she banged her fist against her closed door. Eyes squeezed shut as she stood there against the door. “I just . . . just, argh! Open…” The last word was spoken a lot softer and with a tired tone.

The door opened and she entered inside. The room was dark, only illuminated by a few lights. It took her a few steps for her to realize what room she was actually in. The light was provided by small burning torches and a roaring fireplace, there light shined off of black cement block walls. Even the floor was made out of dark cement, though parts of it were covered with a thick maroon carpet. An old faded nautical map stretched across one wall, directly over a large ebony table that held a sextant and stargazing tools.

A shelf held bottles of sand and small trinkets from the sea, there was even a ship in a bottle and a wooden boat, complete with tiny men. In the large window was a crystal glass wind chime; it tinkered when caught in the passing breeze. The room was empty aside from a few planks of wood in a corner and a long couch by the fireplace. Epiphany sighed and set her wrap upon the wooden table. “I guess here’s a good enough place as any.” The door always knew what it was doing when Epiphany let it pick a place.

Her tone was somber and her walk was slow as she walked about the room. “Everything’s just so… stupid,” speaking outloud to herself she looked out her window. From this viewpoint she could see the ocean clearly. If the Inn was not located by the ocean, then how could her room have this view? Perhaps once she entered through the door, she was not in the Inn anymore.

Epiphany sat down on the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and sighed. She always liked the ocean, it tended to bring her peace when she felt things were too much for her to handle. Damon. Had he really been here or was Sean lying because she had lost her temper? He could have been telling the truth, it would make sense. That could be the reason why they had come there in the first place.

Behind her, by the window was a small table. She turned to reach into it now and pulled out a letter. Worn through continued use and stains of fallen tears made the letter appear old. She had read it so many times the words were ingrained in her memory. I've always known I'd never be your torchbearer…. Reading those words now still hurt. She could only imagine how he had felt.

Perhaps it's best for us both, then, that I have been forced to make this decision . . .

He was gone. Didn’t Sean know that Damon was never going to return? It was impossible an yet it was her own fault that things had elevated to the point where such a letter was needed. She had been the one holding the knife and driving it home. Maybe she kept the letter around to remind her of the person she had been and how cruel she could be? She never again wanted to be that person. She hated that person. The person who listened to what others said was impossible and put up a faηade that everything was under control She was never in control and the more she tried to be, the worse things were. Having gotten stuck in a downward spiral she finally hit the bottom and that is where she stayed.

Better to fly forward with fears than to fall a victim of fate.

Fly. She hadn’t felt like flying in a long time. What she did do was leave her old life behind. Packed her bags, tied off the ends and went away from the ghost that haunted her every turn. Life had been better without the ghost, but there were some that would not be laid to rest.

She reached the end of the letter and discovered that it had acquired a few new teardrops. Epiphany didn’t know that she had been crying. Another tear managed to hit against the paper before she had a chance to fold it up. Holding it in her hands she laid her head down on her knees and looked out to the ocean, not even bothering to wipe her face.

Epiphany took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she spoke two soft words into the air: “I’m sorry.”


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