I KILL KINGS, HAVEN'T YOU HEARD? / @amygone
thereās a sweet spot in time in Northeast Pennsylvania when the night air was still warm enough that it wouldnāt kill you unless you wanted it to and the ground was still soft enough to cushion a fall should you trip over a wayward root. Ā but as per usual,Ā with one being perpetually out of place and the other permanently out of time,Ā Charlotte and Amy had missed the sweet spot by at least ten days. Ā tonight,Ā the air pressed against them like the walls of a meat freezer,Ā each breath a hard and brittle effort;Ā and the ground ( ! ) oh,Ā the ground tonight wouldnāt take a corpse even if one was desperately offered down to it. the best thing keeping the void - borne vessel warm now was the sweat she was working up,Ā striking the hardened earth with a shovel,Ā performing an excruciating removal of scabrous dirt to reach the supple stuff deep below. Ā meanwhile,Ā a brief glance over at Amy held a smidge of concern, her counterpartās only task was to stand still and steady a light on the growing wound. Ā how much longer before a haphazard look found her friend petrified in place without so much of a peep of complaint? Ā it would be just like her. . .
so, how do you prove that something was,Ā in fact,Ā alive when everything both within and without it signifiedĀ ( for )Ā death? Ā like the meaningless yammering that kept a heavy - lidded driver awake during long stretches of tiresome road, the two exchanged words to stave off the stillness;Ā words dug up from boggy memories and mismatched with the glee of a child who believed every sheet of paper bowed under the weight of glitter,Ā dried pasta,Ā and star stickers was the pinnacle of art. they had their favourite topics and talking the same old shit to death was what friends did,Ā wasnāt it?Ā even if it bored them,Ā even if it pained them. so here goes. a return to a topic that wasnāt quite a favourite, (Ā would likely never be, )Ā but needed a few more cycles so that it might compare with how much they talked about other stupid shit.
the slimy and odious figure that was Amyās father bothered Charlotte. Ā one of the few people alive that did and she had never even met the man. Ā it bothered her that as far away as he might seem at any given moment,Ā he never was or would be far enough; how could he be? Ā he was real. unlike the predicament of her own creator existing beyond the realm of all fucking human comprehension and so,Ā was in a definitive way beyond reproach and solution,Ā she knew that the man who wrote,Ā overwrote,Ā and rewrote the part of Odile was flesh and blood. same as his daughter. the gap between this visceral knowledge and the boogeyman story Amy often framed him in sat poorly,Ā restlessly on Charlotteās mind. Ā yet at her attempt to address this gap,Ā the daughter,Ā well - versed with the play sheād been cast in,Ā reminded the blonde that optimism had no place in this story. there was only resignationĀ āĀ the swanās resignation,Ā to be exact.
Charlotte,Ā however,Ā wasnāt at that part of the story yet. Ā without missing a beat,Ā she took the familiar shape of Amyās sarcasm into her loving hand and went along with it. āĀ yeah,Ā I know.Ā ā Ā she scoffed and it sounded like a laugh Ā ā Ā or perhaps,Ā she laughed and it sounded like a scoff;Ā maybe she had done neither and it was just another huff as she tossed up a sizeable clod of dirt before immediately driving the shovel into the earth again,Ā not wanting to lose momentum. Ā āĀ and then you behead their wives,Ā stick āem all on pikes,Ā and lock the princes away in a dungeon,Ā too,Ā I know.Ā ā Ā booted foot came down hard on the spadeās top edge,Ā wedging it deeper. Ā āĀ āDiles,Ā ā Ā she began,Ā her voice heavy but not yet hollowed by her efforts. ā seriously. why donāt you let me try? Ā if heās out there,Ā fucking your shit up, fucking other peopleās shit upāĀ ā Ā a pause,Ā lips pressed into a bloodless line as she levered up a chunk of stoney soil,Ā a loud ripping sound as the earth broke from the forest floor. Ā too heavy to lift on the spade,Ā Charlotte bent down and heaved the chunk aside herself. Ā āĀ kings are killed all the time. Ā why not him?Ā ā















