#another death

Seems a little too familiar...

I felt the tether mend. Slack, unable to grasp it, it twisted and spun. I could not see where it led. All I could feel was the direction, out over the sea, too far away. Fractile images and thoughts came as quickly as they went. Still, the tether strengthened, it’s frayed edges smoothing, beckoning. He would return and I waited in anticipation for my little bird. In the center of my decease, where suffering and hopelessness covered the ground and penetrated the air like fetid fog, he exploded. He had returned, he took up residence in his old haunt, his soul now tinted with something I couldn’t place. Something…other. It filled the cracks, glowing green, with rage and misconception. The warmth of those he deemed unworthy, flowed, their heads rolled. I drank my fill, a bitter, rancid taste. Familiar. Strong. With the tools he had been given and new ones he had been taught, he domineered. Like a tidal wave he crashed against the oppressors, he fought for the oppressed and all too soon the tide hit my Bat’s shores. They clashed, their dance beautiful, deadly, sad. Reminiscent. Denial. My Bat knew who he was, I could feel his heart stutter in realization. My birds could feel the connection. All refused to believe it. My second, now called Red Hood, a name, a twisted joke, taken from the jester. He made my third spill his warmth, jealous, betrayed, bitter, hurt. Still I helped. I directed him. He needed an outlet. I let him do what he thought he needed to. My surface his playground while I worked. After all, what were some lives worth compared to our baby bird. My Bat might not have agreed, but it was all for him in the end. I would do what must be done. I tightened the tether. With a rush I slipped in, easily, he is mine. I fired synapses, cleared the fog, helped connect the dots and threw away the lies. Chiseled into the green cracks, destroyed the ones I could. He bled, he cried, he screamed, another death endured. For the inequity of it all, I shook the foundations in agreement, cracked the sky in a mournful wail. Images resurfaced. A green eyed woman, memories, familiar, guided him in the ways my Bat would not approve, but she also gave him warmth. She cared. A child he trained with, her coloring but characteristics too similar to my Bat. It was not the time for it, I stayed away. I vowed to dig deeper when my second was less fragile. He was angry, confused, but he was back and even though my Bat was devastated by his actions. He was relieved. Happy, even, to have him back, a ghost made flesh again. Unlike his parents, his son came back. For my Bat, I helped their reunion mend their souls, though new cracks appeared. They would eventually mend. There was time. They are mine.

Dead flowers litter tables We will keep them on the stem again Dad would have been sad Another set of footsteps lost

@jenba always at ur lots too.....lol

Tempest and Olivia. After my little got her first big girl bed they’d sleep with her. Tempest is the foremost doggie. This photo is many, many years old. She has a lot more white around her muzzle now. I like to call her old man dog. She was such a good girl. This is my favorite photo.