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There's A Battle In an Unfamiliar World: a short story.
Posted by joonmymoon, Sep 14, 2010. 1140 views. ID = 3855

There's A Battle In an Unfamiliar World

Posted by joonmymoon, Sep 14, 2010. 1140 views. ID = 3855
This post was written in 0 minutes.
because i miss my baby cousin.
This post has been awarded 3 stars by 1 reader.

There’s a battle in an unfamiliar world. A big one. A life-changing one. A quiet one.

You see, I’ve sheltered away my inspiration, because a great amount of pain was Siamese-twined with it. I thought maybe if I put it away, I don’t have to live with the pain. Boy was I wrong. I am wrong. To make things right, I need to have it again and this battle is the only way to get it back.

Really, it’s just a battle between me and Amelia. In her world, this time. Her world with locksmiths to hide keys and spears to protect them. Keys that open memories, truths, fictions, anything and everything Amelia has made unknown. I am but a girl, not one to stir havoc in my own world. Here, everything’s floating but me.

This world is rare, private and rabbithole- filled. The purple waves will eat you and the silver moon will roll over you. It’s a maze; a never-ending maze. But if you look closely, if you look hard enough or deep enough, you’ll see brilliance. And somehow, out of these haphazard bits, you’ll find a very familiar fitting piece. A strangely formatted plot that resembles your reality.

There are shadows of dancers who lacked technique masked on a half-ripped fabric of what once was a circus tent, a detailed love-life carved in stone forts, histories soaked in oak leaves, and vanity mirrors that used to reflect images of a short-lived queen. Through hollow walls there were echoes of a marching band proclaiming their wish for some kind of freedom. I continue to hike its hills and slide its slopes for what seemed to be endless hours. And there, finally, right behind old distressed brick walls floats a rusty chest, unopened. It wasn’t long after until Amelia takes hold of my right arm.


“I rule this world because you proved incompetent. Every love, every desire and passion, has become ephemeral in your world.”

I turn away, focused on opening the chest. She rudely disrupted my concentration with such daunting remarks…

“No key will open the chest. You’ll never find what you miss here. You created me for a reason. I reckon you don’t remember the reason, you never do. You leave things floating; things that are soaked, things that are carved, things that manifest through shadows and echoes, things that are protected here by your spears. You’ve thrown them all here. You’re not needed here.”

Amelia had a classy taste in words, a proper use of her language, a remarkable ability to spell things out. I, however, was said to hold a likable way of enunciating things as I speak (thank you Richard); conveying ever-so-effectively facts I hold true. With that as my Ace, here I am shooting eloquent daggers through her bitter heart.


“I always knew you’d be a tough one. For that, I shall thank, or commend myself, even. And, don’t worry, I know you’re right. I’ve soaked, carved, and protected anything and everything that I’ve made fleeting in my life. Who are you to speak, though? These are not yours to keep; they’re not even yours to begin with. Everything here is, and will always be mine. After all, between you and me, I have the ability to mold and conceptualize. You would not have anything to protect, nor would you exist if not for that ability. And as any crumpled piece of paper thrown on the floor, I can very well pick anything here and straighten them.”

She looks away; her eyes roaming around her world. She sees it’s nearing demise. “You still need the key. You won’t find it in an unfamiliar world, where you don’t belong. You haven’t won.” It was then that it dawned on me, that there are no keys. They don’t exist here unless create them. And no, I didn’t create them.

“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong. See, I am the key. And now would be the time you wave your white flag.”

In that instant, Amelia faded into nothing just how everything else used to be in my life. And alas, there it is! A picture of a young boy I’ve never met yet love to bits. A photograph Amelia has put away for me, because the pain of not seeing him was unbearable. But I see now that being without it means being a prisoner in a topsy-turvy world. I will win any battle now, though. Because my love for him, my sweet Reuel, is all the inspiration I need.

Copyright 2010 joonmymoon. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
 


   
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