WINDFALL
My Confessions
By Godswake
*~*~*
Chapter three: Cut
Chapter song: Witness, Sarah McLachlan
Disclaimer: JKR owns all characters, themes and ideas in the Harry Potter series, which is merely an implement of inspiration and tool to play with on my part. Sylvia Plath gets the poem credit again. (What can I say? I'm a fan.)
Okay, an A/N- first, to address the updating factor: I hope that I don't lose reviewers this way, but I'm afraid that updating every week or so is going to be nearly impossible for me, at least until the rest of the school year is finished. I'm so sorry about this, but I'm trying, and I hope you'll understand, as well as be able to accept an update about once a month. Okay. That said. With this chapter comes one of the many reasons that I decided to give it an R rating. There's some violence in here, and, I don't know, I just thought I'd tell those of you who are squeamish or really religious or something. In fact, if you are one of those ppl, this story may not be the one for you. Thirdly, and I will put this in bold print: LISTEN TO WITNESS. It really gives the spirit of the chapter and it's beautiful and poignant and sad. This note was not nearly concise enough, but oh well. Enjoy, everyone, and I'll probably talk to you again in a month, approx. Ta!
The beauty Ophelia staggered dreamily amongst the King and his few consorts, held up by her grieving brother, Laertes.
"Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?"
I sat leaning over a spring in the Forbidden Forest, observing my rippling reflection. I had returned to my sanctuary. To "the grove" as I'd called it.
Eyes unfocused, she sang of flowers and of early deaths.
I took out a sack full of sharp objects: razor blades, needles, knives and forks I had nicked from the Great Hall- and made my selection.
"Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
And thou hadst not come to my bed."
"How long hath she been thus?"
I held out my left forearm out over the lily-padded pond, and exhaled deeply as my pale skin broke and let forth a rush of live-giving, deep-red liquid. I watched as it trickled down my veiny wrist and rolled off the tips of my fingers, rippling in the clear water and ironically dotting the large white lily flowers that lay in the pool. I was darkening heaven-on-earth with sin. I smiled.
"You must sing, a-down, a-down, and you call him a-down-a. O; how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter."
"This nothing's more than matter."
"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts."
"A document is madness- thoughts and remembrance fitted."
"There's fennel for you, and columbines: - there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays; - O, you must wear your rue with a difference. -there's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered away…for bonny sweet robin is all my joy-"
I replayed the famous mad-scene in my mind, hardly aware of my impending state of weakness from loss of blood. But you can't blame me for being lost in thought. How tragic, how beautiful- how fascinating is the sight of a good girl gone mad.
Lily and Ophelia were peas in a pod.
Despair, in its countless shapes and forms, is notorious for making its way into someone's life when that person wants it the least. Unexpected deaths, sudden boughts of madness, broken hearts… these are a few of the unheralded events that tend to plague human virility and step on dreams, clouding minds and hearts as our souls wander desperately and try to remember what it was to be happy.
But I had no such good reason for my unhappiness. I was merely on another familiar downward spiral, spinning and spinning, unable to stop. It would happen every once and a while for as long as I could remember: a cloud would dampen my being and the clean piercing on my scarred, translucent skin was the only way to prove I was still alive. It was a dramatic way of checking my pulse. Draining the sick blood…
The thrill was brief, though- rushed, evanescent. A few moments were enough. I winced as I let the cool spring water wash my new wounds, then lay on my back for some time, letting the elixir clot and dry.
Slowly, I allowed my mind to slip back into a more conscious state, and it didn't take long for me to realize that Morgana would be wondering where I was. I gingerly slipped an old gray sweatshirt over my head, trying not to let the cotton brush too harshly against my open skin. I wouldn't be able to bare my arms for a couple of weeks. People would wonder.
In order to avoid suspicion, I also took the liberty of hiding my life-giving implements behind an old tree, because my sack of blades, I had a feeling, was not welcome in the third year girl's dormitory of Gryffindor Tower. It would disrupt the normalcy and the dreaded perfection that I had come to dread so much, and that had come to be associated with Gryffindor House. Gryffindor's students were the strongest and the bravest, the smartest and the funniest, the most attractive and the most athletically sought after. They were the most talented in all their magical pursuits and endeavors, and it was they who had the brightest futures. How awful of me to pollute such an environment! What was I doing in Gryffindor House? I would have made a better Hufflepuff. The house for the rejected, the mudblooded, the unoriginal… the people who were shunted aside to let the extraordinary shine through. A community that housed those kinds of people sounded more like my calling.
At this moment and during those similar to it, when I questioned my own virtues, some of the most confusing and complicated issues swirled in my young, brooding brain. It is comforting to reflect on those times now and to know that they wouldn't plague my life forever. I just hadn't yet found a way to counteract the despair.
I let the grayish morning sky be my mirror on that day as I wandered in a half-dazed state on my way back up to the castle. The earth was sympathizing with me. Nature buzzed and tingled with the slightest implication of misery, letting me know that if it didn't have to keep humming to keep life from dying, it would sit down and have a good cry with me. I smiled comfortably and smelled the air. At least somebody knew I was hurting.
~*~*~
I heard it before I saw it- people arguing and shouting at each other. As I turned a corner and the frontal image of Hogwarts came into my sight, I saw them, circling and throwing their arms about on the edge of the lake. Remus and Peter had their arms on either of Sirius's upper arms, doing a fair job of keeping him back as he struggled resolutely against their grips, gray eyes fixed menacingly on the people standing a few yards away. James Potter was footed a few feet ahead of them, holding his wand out steadily. Facing this group was a typically loathsome group of Slytherins: Lucious Malfoy, who also had his wand out, though his was held lazily at his side, a beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed girl with a quiet smirk on her face and her hand on the blond boy's shoulder, the greasy and sneaky Severus Snape, and, slightly apart from the other three, a pale, scared-looking boy that I had never seen before.
I stopped wondering where I was. If I kept moving, they would all see me, and, in addition to being annoyed at my interruption of the scene, they may wonder why I was coming from that section of the Forbidden Forest. And as there seemed no visible way of sneaking by unnoticed, I backed up, hid my frame behind a nearby tree on the Forest's edge, and decided to wait it out. They couldn't possibly go on for too long…
Though I did make an effort to distract myself from watching the brewing battle before me, it was extremely difficult to try and interest myself with anything else without listening to the fight. I finally decided that there would be no harm in watching, as they would never know I was there, an that at least if they had intended their meeting to be private, they would have gone somewhere else anyway. I supposed I was nosy… I made a mental note to add that to my list of vices and tried not to dwell on it.
"Yes, you'd better hold him back, boys. He may hurt himself if he tries to go after me," Luscious Malfoy drawled in a lazy, stately voice. The girl beside him laughed derisively. I shivered.
"I'll tear up the first one of you I can get to," Sirius snarled.
"Ooh, a muggle duel? Tsk, tsk, Black. That seems a bit barbaric, even for you. Though I suppose you must be a bit frightened of what we can all do with our wands. Understandable. I would be as well, if I were you…"
"Don't doubt our talents, Malfoy. It could get you into trouble," said James coolly. His round, deep-set amber eyes never left Malfoy's cold gray ones.
"Oh, let him, James. Let him find out the hard way," growled Sirius.
"You know what, Black?" snapped Lucious, rounding on him. "I don't think we need to fight you. How about some group therapy, hm? My guess would be that your hostilities stem from the fact that your family hates you. You disgrace their bloodline by running around and fraternizing with halfbloods and mudbloods, you get yourself landed in the wrong house, and you have to live with the fact that your brother is much more worthwhile than you are. Your mother loathes the very air you breathe, and you feel rejected. This hurts your self-esteem. Is that right? Or is everything your darling brother and cousin have so considerately confided to us been a web of falsities?"
In the instant before Sirius cracked, his enemies, including the pale boy standing off to the side, all broke into clean, malevolent grins. They were all soaking up the small victory, thinking they had gained something in light Lucious's ridiculous eloquence. They didn't see it coming.
Sirius lunged into the direction of his opponents. But instead of getting his angry hands on Lucious, his tormentor, he jumped and pounced on the lone, black-haired and nameless boy, punching him senseless until the pretty blood ran freely all over grass and skin.
It was a site. In his rage, Sirius seemed to have forgotten about reason. (It was ironic how often these two feelings could be substituted for each other.) He was an ambidextrous fighter, hitting one side of the jaw, and then the other, each time letting out a grunt of fury and exasperation, completely deaf to his victim's cries of pain.
In the meantime, James had set himself upon Lucious, in order to distract the blond-headed boy from cursing Sirius off of his quiet accomplice. Remus and Peter had intervened to keep the dark-eyed girl and Snape from doing the same. Soon, an all-out duel had begun. Wands whirred, shouts and incantations permeated the air and more blood was drawn as each party's knowledge of the dark arts and of battle was put to the test.
I became conscious of the fact that my feet had begun to move themselves toward the scene, and stopped myself not a moment too soon. Right after I had hidden behind a tree, the girl had paused mid-scuffle with Remus to shoot a look in my direction.
The thirty seconds that followed seemed o take an age. I saw with exactitude every extension of limb, every placement of each foot, every shape made by every pair of lips as the group shouted and breathed and let forth magic. Colors like fireworks blurred my vision as speedy wand work released jets of rainbow. Sirius was panting and sweating, and wiping his shiny forehead with the back of his hand. The boy who he'd nearly killed was groaning and rolling onto his stomach, and then up to all fours to vomit and let the earth soak up the results of his injuries. I shut my eyes and closed my ears to the sound of the liquid hitting the ground.
When I dared to reopen them, the scene had shifted. Sirius was halfway up to the castle, his gate almost nonchalant, as if he hadn't just lost complete control of himself. Behind him, James, Peter and Remus had leapt forward to keep the Narcissistic Lucious from attacking from behind.
"No more, Lucious. It's done," said Remus warily. The three boys had formed a wall of protection for their friend, blocking Lucious's clear wand path to Sirius.
"Oh, it's done when you say it is, is it?" spat the brown-eyed girl menacingly. "Look at what he's done to him!"
"He'll be fine," said James indifferently. "Anyway, Sirius is your cousin. Don't you care about him?" She spat on the ground. Apparently he was lacking in tack.
Before my hero had time to even turn away, there was a flash of light, an incantation, and a huge bloody gash appeared on James's face, courtesy of Lucious's wand. Snape gave a disgusting whoop of exhilaration, joyful at the comfort lost at James's expense. I felt my heart pounding fast. That was dark magic. I sensed it, I knew it, and I hated it. For a moment, Peter, Remus and James all looked furious, and I anticipated a second violent outburst. But no. James slowly lifted his thumb to his face, winced, and observed how the red had discolored his skin. Then, with a last glance at the four Slytherins, he turned and followed Sirius in his path leading toward the castle. Peter and Remus stood still a few seconds more, as if to make sure they would not be attacked again. But after James had resigned to leave, it seemed, the fervor was gone. The girl, Snape and Malfoy had gone to check on their comrade, and the two remaining Gryffindors finally decided to follow in their friend's wake.
***
After the Slytherins had cleared out, I left my hiding spot for the castle. My mind was spinning again, but this time, it wasn't because of my emotional problems. I had no time to be depressed, and I had forgotten all about them somewhere in the midst of the scene I had just witnessed.
But was I a witness?
Had I haphazardly stumbled upon the occurrence, or was I just too sneaky to pry my eyes away? Either way, I'd seen what I'd seen, and it had disturbed me. I mechanically followed the path to Gryffindor tower, eager to confide in Morgana and to decode and interpret what I had seen with her. I knew we could make some sense out of it together, once I explained it all.
But Morgana wasn't anywhere to be found. Not in the bedroom or the common room. So I tried to bottle and confine my pensive energy as I sat down by a window to wait and to sort out the morning's events.
How bizarre. There were so many unanswered questions that were nagging me. How did the fight get started? Where had Lucious Malfoy and his cronies gotten so skilled in the Dark Arts? Who was the pale boy Sirius had nearly taken the life of? Had the girl seen me when she'd looked in my direction? How could people come to loathe each other so much? Was James all right? His cut had been so deep. It had bled freely…
These mysteries and more clouded my brain, and soon my head began to ache. I felt early pangs of hunger. It was almost dinnertime- I would go down in an hour or so. I finally turned from the window to go up to the dorm for a nap or something (I was wide awake), and found myself standing uncomfortably close to the oh-so-venerable James Potter.
"Lily. Hello." He said softly, teasingly. He mad me feel so awkward.
"Hello," I said, stepping back. The day, apparently, would just keep getting weirder. The twilight zone played briefly in my mind.
"How's life?" He slumped down into the nearest chair and bit into a huge apple, which had been lingering conspicuously in his left hand. A bandage now adorned the place where I knew he had been hurt.
"Weird, boring, and slightly depressing," I coughed. "But there you are. What happened to your face?" I added innocently.
"Oh, ummm…fell in a bush."
"Really?"
"Yep." Another bite from the apple.
"How'd you manage that?"
"Don't you remember? I'd told you I was clumsy," James shrugged. I didn't press any further.
A pause. I felt compelled to say something. Anything. "Why do you chew so loudly?"
"Why are you picking on me?"
"I'm not."
"Because I want everyone to know how delicious this apple is." He grinned. A thought occurred to me.
"Where did you get that, anyway? The Great Hall doesn't open until 6:00. It's only 5:00 now."
"Oh. I, uh… got it…" He got off his chair and came closer to me, tossing the apple's core into the fireplace. "…From the kitchens," he said softly.
"What kitchens?"
"The kitchens. The ones under the Great Hall."
"Oohh! Those kitchens. How did you get in there?" I spoke in a whisper. I could hardly suppress the excitement I felt. A marauder was about to tell me a secret…
James suddenly drew his thirteen-year-old self impressively and held out his hand.
"Mademoiselle Lily Evans," his voice had changed dramatically as well. It was now deeper, and a thousand times more mature.
"Prepare to be liberated from a life of weirdness, depression, and that dreaded symptom of boredom. I am Sir James Potter. My solemn duty is to rescue such damsels as yourselves from the dreary confines of their present duties." He bowed gallantly, and I laughed and took his hand. I found it surprisingly sweaty and clammy. Since when did the Potter boy get sweaty hands? He took me by the waist, and my heart leapt into my throat.
"We're going to get something to eat." He stated after a moment.
"From where?"
"Who cares? It's food. Food is food is food. Doesn't matter where it comes from."
"Sometimes it does."
He turned to look at me while we walked.
"My dearest Lily, if you hadn't have told me just now, I'dve never known." He offered me a lopsided grin. One of the many he could have selected from the innumerable different types of smiles I would come to recognize. "Besides, you need an adventure."
"I don't know you very well at all," I said.
"Likewise," was his response. So breezy. So familiar. It was strange that I felt like I'd known him for eons. This was probably why I voiced an opposing sentiment. Then; when I was younger, I used to think that saying the opposite of what you thought would keep your secrets hidden. But that theory didn't hold true with James Potter. He was so good at discovering my secrets away. And I didn't mind…
"So why do you want to take me, of all people, on one of your adventures? How do you know what I need?" I was at a loss. James bounded a few paces ahead of me and shot the following from over his shoulder as his gate became quicker and more resolute:
"Stop wondering, Lily. Just seize the moment, and ask questions later. Procrastinate. Carpe Diem. Revel."
I said nothing. It took too long for me to process these words, and then to try and understand them, to think of a rejoinder that would make me sound clever. Silence prevailed for a couple of minutes as we strolled; him taking long strides and looking ahead and me wandering timidly with my arms crossed, taking in all the dimly-lit surroundings.
Suddenly: "Aha!"
"What?" I came up behind him and we found ourselves staring directly at a huge still life painting of a bowl of fruit. James reached out a finger and tickled a pear on the canvas. It giggled and writhed for a second before morphing into a giant green door handle. James opened the door.
"After you."
I passed through the threshold, and was suddenly standing amidst an immense expanse of brass pots, food and swarms of tiny, ugly dwarf-things that all goggled at me when I came in. So these were the Hogwarts kitchens.
"Impressive." I said blankly.
"This," said James as he came up beside me. "Is where I got that apple."
The expressions on the odd faces of the little people in sacks which all bore the Hogwarts crest softened at the sight of James, who evidently was a regular customer.
"Mr. Potter, sir!" squeaked one of the creatures.
"You have come back, sir, and with a friend, I see. What can I do for you sir, and you friend? Name you request, James Potter, name it! Anything!" Its gleeful voice was like that of a child on helium.
"We'll have a couple of picnic baskets to go, please."
Scores of the things scampered around to follow the order. I leaned over and whispered in James's ear.
"What are those things?"
"House elves." He whispered back.
"Oh!" It finally made sense. These were the bizarre creatures that made our food and cleaned our dormitories. Apparently they stayed hidden, but I had heard tell about the school's peculiar institution.
Within seconds, the house elves had assembled themselves at our feet, two of them holding up stereotypically Dorothy-like picnic baskets and the rest staring at James and I.
"Thank very much!"
Smoothly, he took the two baskets, waved goodbye, and led us back out the way we came.
"Do you do that often?" I asked when we emerged on the other side of the fruit painting, feeling that I probably already knew that answer.
"All the time." He offered me my basket and a sly grin- the type of smile that's supposed to make girls swoon. But I was suddenly feeling uncharacteristically confident and in control. Swoon, I did not.
He resumed that same planned-out, quick-paced speed as before, and I followed him.
"Where are we going now?" I tried, after some moments had passed.
"Again with the questions," he groaned in mock-exasperation. The smiling hazel eyes gave the joke away. "A few years back, there used to be astronomy classes held at the top of a flat eastern tower, on the roof of the castle, But they've closed it off to students and stopped having classes there since…" he broke off.
"Since what?" I persisted.
He slowed his pace. "Well, I don't want to scare you, but I think someone died up there. I don't know why."
I hesitated.
"Don't worry! I wouldn't take you anywhere that wasn't safe."
"Pah!"
"Okay. Safe to a degree. But come on. It's beautiful up there, I can promise you that much." He took my free hand with his, and we jogged up several flights of stairs. When we couldn't go up any higher, we were on a landing with a door on the east side. James pushed it open. It was night outside. People were probably having dinner in the Great Hall by now. But for the evening, James's dining place and mine would be this lovely balcony amid the castle's innumerable highest turrets and towers. It was another sanctuary, and James had not lied. It was beautiful. The panoramic, idyllic view of the stars (which seemed close enough to touch) was perfect for an astronomy class. Or a nighttime picnic.
James must have seen the pleasure in my countenance, for he grinned in a satisfactory way as he took both of our baskets and laid their contents on the stone floor. The first thing he went for was the bottle of pumpkin juice and two glasses. He uncorked the bottle, handed me a glass, then walked to the edge of the balcony.
"For the gods," he breathed. A few ounces of the juice he poured out of the bottle and over the edge of the wall.
After he had filled up his cup and taken a sip, I took the bottle in my own frail hands, still carefully remembering to keep hidden the discrete wounds just past my wrists, and repeated the gesture.
"For my soul," was my toast, and we seated ourselves amongst our small feast, letting minutes pass by in contented silence, nothing breaking it but the sounds of cutlery.
I had grown too comfortable after a while. Too lax. Too passive. I reached for something by James, and before I knew what had happened, I felt his fingers enclose on my arm in a gentle but firm manner.
"What are you doing?" My voice echoed strangely and I felt almost rude to be piercing the quiet air with such obtrusive volume. He pulled back to my sleeve and I felt his sweet eyes dart to my tender skin. Dark though it was, he saw. The blood was too fresh.
"I knew it," he said quietly, calmly.
"Let go."
"You are amazingly unhappy."
"Oh, aren't you clever. A girl who cuts herself is unhappy? How deductive. That's really a brilliant observation. Let go!" I wrenched back my arm and pulled down the sleeve.
"Why do you do that to yourself?"
"You know, for someone who doesn't like answering questions, you sure like asking them," I spat bitterly.
James ignored the comment. "I don't know you, but I want to. I don't want to creep you out or anything, but you really fascinate me. It seems like everyone at this school is always competing for a place in the sun, a taste of popularity. But not you. You're always… one step out of step, sort of. It's what makes you stand out." He paused for a minute. I said nothing. "And your red hair doesn't hurt," he added, and smiled. He was trying to make me laugh. I would not. I said nothing. "That's why I think you're interesting."
"You wouldn't understand why I did it. You're to perfect. You just prance around and worship yourself and your friends. You defend your honor. You live for stupid things like that fight this afternoon, and you-"
"What did you say?" He whispered.
I had felt it escape from my lips too late. It had slipped. Now I had to come up with a lie, and fast.
"I… I saw you come from the other side of the lake. By the front of the castle." I held my breath. There was a pause.
"No you didn't." he said it so simply, so dismissively. I wanted to cry.
"We didn't see anyone around there. No one was outside. Too gray for play. We checked. But I guess we missed a person." A corner-of-the-mouth smile was his white flag. His way of letting me know he wasn't angry.
"I had been in the forest," I admitted after a few long seconds had passed.
He laughed jovially. "The Forbidden Forest is a… is an original hideout."
I took the opportunity of his turn from solemn to laughing to both distract him from my emotional problems and to ask a burning question.
"Why were you fighting those people? I mean, I know they're awful, but… I mean why did Sirius jump at that boy? He was the only one who wasn't…" I broke off and let the end of my sentence trail off into the darkness. I had been watching James's expression, and it had grown grave again.
"That was Sirius's brother, Regulus Black. The dark-haired girl was his cousin, Bellatrix. They're both terrible people. Pureblooded bigots. They refuse to associate with anyone whose family magical line isn't pure and doesn't date back at least a couple hundred years. They consider Sirius a disgrace, because he's a Gryffindor, and being a pureblood isn't a pre-requisite for being his friend. Those grease balls, Lucious and Snape, do nothing but egg Bella and Regulus on whenever they can. Sirius… he just has a hard time coping. He snapped. We had to… we had to back him up. It's hard for him. His mother hates him, as well. Treats him like an animal."
After the long-winded defensive explanation for his friend, several strong emotions swept over me. I felt awful. I had a sudden, surprising empathy for Sirius. He had always seemed so happy. I admired him for being able to fool everyone into thinking that he was. He wore a mask all the time. He could pretend. I wished I could do the same. Although, it was likely that even if I could wear a mask, some kind of disguise to hide myself from the prying eyes of society, such a defense would likely boil over fast. I had been that way for Sirius. He hadn't been able to control it. I regretted ever feeling sorry for his bleeding brother.
"I never would have guessed, I…"
"It's alright," he said curtly. "Just… I mean it is really bad for him. I'd appreciate it if you never said anything to anyone. Even Morgana. It was really personal, what I just…"
"Of course," I said, a bit too hastily. I barely realized I was promising my silence to a near stranger. I had never before kept anything from Morgana.
There followed a really long, awkward silence; the kind I hated. But I couldn't think of anything else to say. After a few minutes, James relieved me.
"You never answered my question. Why do you hurt yourself? I don't understand. Enlighten me."
This was not something I had either wanted or expected to hear. The shock of it sent ears to my eyes, which made me more frustrated. I wiped them away and tried to turn my head, but decided it was a lost cause. James knew I was crying. James Potter was watching me cry, Jesus Christ.
"I do it… I do it because it leaves me feeling clean. I do it because it assures me that I do live, draw breath, bleed. I do it because I can," A single tear trickled down my cheek. I didn't dry it. "I'm sick. My head is sick. I always feel like screaming, and I done know why. I'm angry at nothing."
James looked unsure of what to do, but only for a split second. The expression flickered and died so fast that I doubted later whether I had seen it at all in the first place. Before I'd known what was happening, he'd pulled me into an embrace. I felt dizzy. When he'd pulled back, he held my shoulders and stared me down.
"If you ever need to know you're still living, come and ask me I'll tell you. I can do my best to make you feel better. But you have to promise me something."
I sniffed. "What?"
"Never let a blade open your skin again. Stop cutting. Promise me."
"I wouldn't know how to stop."
Find a way. Find a way and promise me."
"Okay."
"Promise me." More firmly this time.
"I promise."
James smiled.
"I'll clear this up for you," he gestured to the food. "Go ahead to the dorms, before it gets to late."
I offered him a weak smile of thanks, and went for the door. I knew the way back.
~*~*~
But I didn't go back to Gryffindor Tower. I went straight outside to the grounds. To the place where I had left my weapons of self-destruction, and unearthed them from behind a large tree.
In the dark, I found the Hogwarts Lake, which looked to me at that moment like one huge, shimmering black opal. I dumped the bag that was in my hands at me feet. It had harbored various razors, cutlery, knives, blades, and a single folded up piece of paper. I unfolded it, and squinted my eyes in the moonlight to read a poem that once inspired me.
Cut
What a thrill ---
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of a hinge
Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.
Little pilgrim,
The Indian's axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls
Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz.
A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they on?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to kill
The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man ---
The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux Klan
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump ---
Trepanned veteran,
Dirty girl,
Thumb stump.
It was such a painful and sad conglomeration of words. It would serve another purpose at the bottom the great black lake with the sharp implements that had once given me solace. I watched them sink until I couldn't make out their shadowy forms, thinking of my new friend, James.
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