The Slow Regard of Silent Things

It was wise enough to know itself, and brave enough to BE itself, and wild enough to change itself while somehow staying altogether true.

This story is for all the slightly broken people out there. I am one of you. You are not alone. You are all beautiful to me.

But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?

To be so lovely and so lost. To be all answerful with all that knowing trapped inside. To be beautiful and broken.

Some days simply lay on you like stones.

I cannot help but wonder how many of us walk through our lives, day after day, feeling slightly broken and alone, surrounded all the time by others who feel exactly the same way.

But no. There is a difference between the truth and what we wish were true.

She was a wicked thing sometimes. All full of want. As if the shape of the world depended on her mood. As if she were important.

She felt the panic rising in her then. She knew. She knew how quickly things could break. You did the things you could. You tended to the world for the world's sake. You hoped you would be safe. But still she knew. It could come crashing down and there was nothing you could do. And yes, she knew she wasn't right. She knew her everything was canted wrong. She knew her head was all unkilter. She knew she wasn't true inside. She knew.

She'd strayed from the true way of things. First you set yourself to rights. And then your house. And then your corner of the sky. And after that... Well, then she didn't rightly know what happened next. But she hoped that after that the world would start to run itself a bit, like a gear-watch proper fit and kissed wit oil. That was what she hoped would happen.

Answers were always important, but they were seldom easy.

Cruelty never helped the turning of the world.

Auri stood, and in the circle of her golden hair she grinned and brought the weight of her desire down full upon the world. And all things shook. And all things knew her will. And all things bent to please her.

Some things simply were too true to stay. Some merely came to visit for a while.

But for half a minute she wished it was a different sort of day, even though she knew that nothing good could come from wanting at the world.

There was a door, but it was terribly bashful, so Auri politely pretended not to see it.

Laying in the dark, she wondered what the day would bring. Some days were trumpet-proud. They heralded like thunder. Some were courteous, careful as a lettered card upon a silver plate. But some days were shy. They did not name themselves. They waited for a careful girl to find them.

Soon. She knew. Soon he would come visiting. Incarnadine and sweet and sad and broken. Just like her.

Some days simply lay on you like stones. Some were fickle as cats, sliding away when you needed comfort, then coming back later when you didn’t want them, jostling at you, stealing your breath.

She felt ... less. She felt tamped down. Dim. More faint. Feint. Feigned. Fain.

She knew the true shape of the world. All else was shadow and the sound of distant drums.

But no. It didn't suit him. She should have known. He was not a one for fastening. For holding closed. Neither was he dark. Oh no. He was emberant. Incarnadine. He was bright with better bright beneath, like copper-gilded gold.

She was weary and disappointed with all of everything.

She knew. She knew how quickly things could break. You did the things you could. You tended to the world for the world’s sake. You hoped you would be safe. But still she knew. It could come crashing down and there was nothing you could do.

You did not want things for yourself. That made you small.

Well, after that she would do her best. That was the only way. You did not want things for yourself. That made you small. That kept you safe. That meant you could move smoothly through the world without upsetting every applecart you came across. And if you were careful, if you were a proper part of things, then you could help. You mended what was cracked. You tended to the things you found askew. And you trusted that the world in turn would brush you up against the chance to eat. It was the only graceful way to move. All else was vanity and pride.

It was shivery and scant. Scared. Skint. But just around the edges it was still scintillant.

Oh no. He was emberant. Incarnadine. He was bright with better bright beneath, like copper-gilded gold.

Auri's heart beat faster then. It had been ages since she'd come on somewhere wholly new. A place that dared to be entirely itself.