Wednesday, August 15, 2012

31DWC :Day 12

Prompt: Shiver in the crimson sunlight; dance in the porcelain rain.

Sunlight filtered in through the dusty and broken windows of what had used to my old home. Every beam was dancing with dust motes, leaving me bathed with crimson, my eyes dashing back and forth between the spots of light. I sat on a rickety wooden chair, inside an empty room. There was nothing left in this place for me. It was old, dead furniture and broken windows, sheets and dust and leftover memories.

I brushed stray strands of hair from my eyes as I stood, casting a silhouette upon the opposite wall from the windows. This place, this house that I had grown up in, was just like my own shadow. It was a silhouette of what it used to be.

And by morning, even that shadow would be gone.

It was already all prepared. I had drizzled gas along walls and floors, around appliances that no longer worked, over wooden furniture. It would all burn, and cleanse me of the memories in the process. There was no place for the soft girl that had grown up here. The ruthless me that had grown from that softness had no place in this house.

So I would leave no place for me to come back to.

I walked from the room, combat books making wooden floors creak. I paused only once, in the kitchen, by the old propane stove. I flipped the dials until they all were on, smelling the gas as I stomped out the kitchen door. There was a trail of gas out this door, leading the way to the bike that waited for me to ride away on.

I shivered in the cool breeze as the crimson light of the setting sun spread its weak rays around me, reflecting off of the dark clouds that were swiftly moving in from the east. Blood red clouds that would surely pour down rain. The stories that I had always heard about the bright yellow sun we had had as a planet once were just a fairytale of the girl I had once been. There was nothing else, only the blood red orb in the sky.

I stalked over to the bike, pushing my helmet onto my head and swinging my leg over. Lighting a match, I smirked, running my free hand over the burn scars under my clothing. How fitting that fire, what had made me so ruthless, would burn out every pieces of softness that I had left in my life. With a smirk, I flicked the flame onto the trail of gas, and started the bike. It purred to life under me as I looked once more at the house.

Without another thought, I turned the bike and tore down the driveway. I didn’t look back, knowing that it would take only moments for the gas trail to let the fire inside the house, and when it caught the propane, the explosion would cause wood and stone to fly. I didn’t want to be near enough to get hit.

The boom echoed through what had been my old neighborhood, and I forced myself to not look back, merely ducking my head and pushing the motorcycle to faster speeds. I sped towards the east, running away from the setting sun, and into the rain. The way that the sun tinted everything , I might have been riding towards blood, falling from the sky. I pushed that thought away as I sped away from everything that had been mine.

There was nothing left to keep me here.

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