The Eye of the Storm
THE EYE OF THE STORM
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Date: 21/06/24 | Time: 17:55 | Outfit: ✕ | CC: #4d6c84
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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Date: 21/06/24 | Time: 17:55 | Outfit: ✕ | CC: #4d6c84
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─────Four years later. Exactly four years later.
Ariana sat almost as quiet and still as the cold, lifeless stone she was perched on. Only her breathing broke the silence that tasted as sweet as death itself. The twisted dreams, the nightmares, they had haunted her for four years now. When she would break free from those shackles was a thought long forgotten. Thinking made it worse. Talking was scary. All Ariana could do was distract herself from her very own thoughts, and still the pain never left. Some days were like a rainbow during a downpour of rain, quick flashes of peace and quiet.
The eye of the storm
The nightmares had drained her, there was no hope left in her empty shell. Or so she assumed, as tears forged a path over the smooth surface of her pale face, over her not-so-rosy cheeks, finally reaching the tip of her chin. They would free-fall one by one, leaving erasable scars behind, landing upon the bitterly cold surface of that same lifeless stone. Again and again. And still, Ariana felt... at peace somehow. As if she had reached-
The eye of the storm
For a short moment, she would be able to breathe. To... live. Ariana didn't cheer though, didn't jump around and sing. She simply sat there, motionless, watching her tears mingle with the few remaining puddles of rainwater from a single day before the one marking the start of a new season, watching butterflies gracefully sip nectar from the colorful flowers indicating summer. Summer. Five years ago, maybe six, Ariana would've been helping her mother make flower crowns for everyone in their little part of town on the edge of Valparaíso. It would've been funny, how the city's name meant "Vale of Paradise" while for some, life was the opposite of that. But somehow, with that thought, Ariana managed a smile. It was powerful, the ability to laugh even when the tears wouldn't stop coming.
The eye of the storm
Deep down, Ariana was afraid that if she stood it would all go back to "normal". That the dreams would come back, twisted into nightmares. That her mother's hollow, cracked voice would find its way back into the never-ending loop of echoes shadowing the girl's mind, confusing her thoughts. That her cousin's face would reappear in front of her again, sad and broken like Ariana was. She was afraid that if she let herself sleep she would break the spell, because when had her dreams ever let her sleep? But despite that, tiredness swept over her and her eyes fluttered shut, her head resting on her shoulder in an odd position. And then she dreamed.
A cold, piercing laugh filled the room, echoing off the stone walls surrounding her. It all seemed familiar somehow, yet unrecognizable. As if she'd been there before, although everything had been different then. Then again, was her mind simply playing tricks on her? The strong smell of blood filled the air. Human blood. And that was when Ariana realized that maybe, just maybe, all those years of dreaming had not been about her, that something far more serious had been hidden under her father's words. Her father.
Although the man had left, he still haunted her. And although he had left and Ariana didn't see him as a father anymore, didn't love him anymore, the thought of him not having cared still hurt. And that was where the nightmares had kicked in, into the small crevices of hope left, the cracks that had not yet sealed, that was where they slipped in during the night unnoticed and came out the next day triumphant.
Terror swept over Ariana as she heard footsteps. Those she recognized. Those had been her father's. The closer they came, the more she had the urge to run. But there was no way to go. Ariana Westonfield-Rivera was trapped in her own fate, the hole that her father had dug for her which she had been digging deeper ever since she'd tried to climb out. Because the hope that was left was only sickening.
As the silhouette entered the room, Ariana dared not look into its eyes. Not now. Not yet. But then he spoke, a haunting voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. The same words that came every time, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back toward her in a never-ending cycle. But Ariana was ready to leave her previous life behind, this time completely. No more cracks. No more crevices of unreal hope. And so she looked up, not scared but rather at peace somehow. And with that, the voices became less piercing, softer, until it all faded away.
Silence. The sweet sound of silence engulfed Ariana, and finally she could breathe. Suddenly everything seemed brighter around her, or was she the one glowing? The girl's lips slowly formed a smile, a real one. No more pretending she was okay. Because even though she wasn't yet, she was ready to start over.
- - -
The dream changed. Ariana was standing in a field of flowers, free. But then the voices came again. Instinctively the girl was about to plug her ears, when she realized they weren't the same ones. A different tone, different words. "Your family loves you. Give your mother a chance."
It should've been easy, but forgiving never is. After everything that Ariana had gone through alone, letting others into her life made no sense. They didn't deserve it, and she was doing perfectly fine alone. But in reality she wasn't. And still, the voices seemed to reach even the deepest parts of her, parts that Ariana had thought that she had buried.
Ariana's vision swayed. Confusion of what was happening clouded her mind. Her knees not strong enough to hold her, she fell to the ground, onto the soft flowery grass. Instead of flowers though, they were butterflies in every color, beautiful as they took flight in formation, forming a single word: Live.
The butterflies faded as Ariana woke. Vivid memories of her dreams came back to her, and she knew that they would take a while to process. But for now, maybe it was worth a try. Because after all, maybe this was a moment in which she could start over. Breathe. But most importantly, finally live.
Ariana sat almost as quiet and still as the cold, lifeless stone she was perched on. Only her breathing broke the silence that tasted as sweet as death itself. The twisted dreams, the nightmares, they had haunted her for four years now. When she would break free from those shackles was a thought long forgotten. Thinking made it worse. Talking was scary. All Ariana could do was distract herself from her very own thoughts, and still the pain never left. Some days were like a rainbow during a downpour of rain, quick flashes of peace and quiet.
The eye of the storm
The nightmares had drained her, there was no hope left in her empty shell. Or so she assumed, as tears forged a path over the smooth surface of her pale face, over her not-so-rosy cheeks, finally reaching the tip of her chin. They would free-fall one by one, leaving erasable scars behind, landing upon the bitterly cold surface of that same lifeless stone. Again and again. And still, Ariana felt... at peace somehow. As if she had reached-
The eye of the storm
For a short moment, she would be able to breathe. To... live. Ariana didn't cheer though, didn't jump around and sing. She simply sat there, motionless, watching her tears mingle with the few remaining puddles of rainwater from a single day before the one marking the start of a new season, watching butterflies gracefully sip nectar from the colorful flowers indicating summer. Summer. Five years ago, maybe six, Ariana would've been helping her mother make flower crowns for everyone in their little part of town on the edge of Valparaíso. It would've been funny, how the city's name meant "Vale of Paradise" while for some, life was the opposite of that. But somehow, with that thought, Ariana managed a smile. It was powerful, the ability to laugh even when the tears wouldn't stop coming.
The eye of the storm
Deep down, Ariana was afraid that if she stood it would all go back to "normal". That the dreams would come back, twisted into nightmares. That her mother's hollow, cracked voice would find its way back into the never-ending loop of echoes shadowing the girl's mind, confusing her thoughts. That her cousin's face would reappear in front of her again, sad and broken like Ariana was. She was afraid that if she let herself sleep she would break the spell, because when had her dreams ever let her sleep? But despite that, tiredness swept over her and her eyes fluttered shut, her head resting on her shoulder in an odd position. And then she dreamed.
Although the man had left, he still haunted her. And although he had left and Ariana didn't see him as a father anymore, didn't love him anymore, the thought of him not having cared still hurt. And that was where the nightmares had kicked in, into the small crevices of hope left, the cracks that had not yet sealed, that was where they slipped in during the night unnoticed and came out the next day triumphant.
Terror swept over Ariana as she heard footsteps. Those she recognized. Those had been her father's. The closer they came, the more she had the urge to run. But there was no way to go. Ariana Westonfield-Rivera was trapped in her own fate, the hole that her father had dug for her which she had been digging deeper ever since she'd tried to climb out. Because the hope that was left was only sickening.
As the silhouette entered the room, Ariana dared not look into its eyes. Not now. Not yet. But then he spoke, a haunting voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. The same words that came every time, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back toward her in a never-ending cycle. But Ariana was ready to leave her previous life behind, this time completely. No more cracks. No more crevices of unreal hope. And so she looked up, not scared but rather at peace somehow. And with that, the voices became less piercing, softer, until it all faded away.
Silence. The sweet sound of silence engulfed Ariana, and finally she could breathe. Suddenly everything seemed brighter around her, or was she the one glowing? The girl's lips slowly formed a smile, a real one. No more pretending she was okay. Because even though she wasn't yet, she was ready to start over.
- - -
The dream changed. Ariana was standing in a field of flowers, free. But then the voices came again. Instinctively the girl was about to plug her ears, when she realized they weren't the same ones. A different tone, different words. "Your family loves you. Give your mother a chance."
It should've been easy, but forgiving never is. After everything that Ariana had gone through alone, letting others into her life made no sense. They didn't deserve it, and she was doing perfectly fine alone. But in reality she wasn't. And still, the voices seemed to reach even the deepest parts of her, parts that Ariana had thought that she had buried.
Ariana's vision swayed. Confusion of what was happening clouded her mind. Her knees not strong enough to hold her, she fell to the ground, onto the soft flowery grass. Instead of flowers though, they were butterflies in every color, beautiful as they took flight in formation, forming a single word: Live.
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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: n/a - solo | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @@@ |
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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: n/a - solo | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @@@ |
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| xxxxx | ⊹✧𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖠𝖭𝖠 ~ ency ☽ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄 ☾ |
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