(Woke up and wished that I was dead, With an aching in my head )
7 a.m.
Quinnley sat perched at the end of the bed, flicking his tail impatiently. It was past his breakfast. Even the rabbit, Hopkins, was restless and his kicks and hops were wordless pleas to be set free from his pen and let loose in the house.
Fury lurched up and stared at the cat, then gave the ticking clock a hard glare. Finding the closest object to throw at the time keeper. It just so happened to be a candlestick that sat on her night stand. The glass of the clock cracked and splintered. The minute hand stopped at twenty five.
She gave the cat a warning shoo, then laid back down pulling the sheets and comforter back over her head.
(I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on)
She wasn't hung over, or ill. Fury wasn't even sleeping-even though she could with ease. Dreamless sleep. Only to wake knowing her dreams or nightmares were caught somewhere between space and time. A tithe. A price she paid.
No, she just laid in her bed. Keeping the world out.
(Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new)
The scent of bleach was fading from the floors and walls and being replaced with the hint of dust and stale air. The carefully placed routines and procedures had fallen to the wayside. Even her bevloved games of chess were all knocked over by Quinnley's playful feet.
(And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on)
Noon.
The Fallen finally dragged herself out of bed and down the stairs. It was an empty foyer, an empty kitchen. An empty house.
Except for the cat and the rabbit who were waiting patiently for their now lunch and playtime.
She fed Quinnley his usual bowlful of chicken. Hopkins was given a mix of fresh greens and strawberries. Once fed, she let him out to romp around the kitchen. While the cat ate and the rabbit frolicked. Fury sat at the kitchen table and poured herself a glass of whiskey. And stared at it.
There was another glass beside it. It sat untouched from the night before. She set this glass alongside its twin and turned away from the table.
(I let the day go by
I always say goodbye)
4 p.m.
It is a Thursday. Characteristically, Thursday afternoons are spent composing. Yet, there was no music. No quarter notes. No eighth notes. No staccato or crescendo. It was silent in the house.
Fury was back in her room, laying in her bed staring out the window. Quinnley was perched on her head. She did not care.
Hopkins was running free in the house and chewing on the moulding. He was a very happy rabbit.
(I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still)
9 p.m.
She managed to catch a few hours of sleep. Her insomnia was self imposed. The lack of drive was something else.
Something new. The clock was broken , so she had no idea what time it was. Or what day it was.
The moonlight filtered in through the curtains. She stared at the shadows dancing on the floor. In another town-shadows that silthered and curled brought the things of nightmares.
Here they just told the stories of elves and dragons. Deep inside she knew she should be afraid.
But it just was not there at all,fear.
(Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head )
3 a.m. The Witching Hour.
She finally emerged from her cocoon. It was not a metamorphasis. Amitiel, Fury, The Fallen padded silently to the window. Once there she parted the curtains and looked out and up. The two moons were still foreign to her after all these years. Just like this feeling was foreign to her.
The bells on the tree chimed as they always did at 3 a.m. It was like the laughter of angels, or the crying of a fallen angel.
All in one.
She listened, pressing her forehead against the windowpane, fingertips framing her reflection.
(I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on)
For all of her control, through all of cleaning, the stoicism, the Ice Queen exterior.
This was all entirely human. .
(I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.)
**Song lyrics in parenthesis. "World spins madly on"-The Weepies
7 a.m.
Quinnley sat perched at the end of the bed, flicking his tail impatiently. It was past his breakfast. Even the rabbit, Hopkins, was restless and his kicks and hops were wordless pleas to be set free from his pen and let loose in the house.
Fury lurched up and stared at the cat, then gave the ticking clock a hard glare. Finding the closest object to throw at the time keeper. It just so happened to be a candlestick that sat on her night stand. The glass of the clock cracked and splintered. The minute hand stopped at twenty five.
She gave the cat a warning shoo, then laid back down pulling the sheets and comforter back over her head.
(I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on)
She wasn't hung over, or ill. Fury wasn't even sleeping-even though she could with ease. Dreamless sleep. Only to wake knowing her dreams or nightmares were caught somewhere between space and time. A tithe. A price she paid.
No, she just laid in her bed. Keeping the world out.
(Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new)
The scent of bleach was fading from the floors and walls and being replaced with the hint of dust and stale air. The carefully placed routines and procedures had fallen to the wayside. Even her bevloved games of chess were all knocked over by Quinnley's playful feet.
(And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on)
Noon.
The Fallen finally dragged herself out of bed and down the stairs. It was an empty foyer, an empty kitchen. An empty house.
Except for the cat and the rabbit who were waiting patiently for their now lunch and playtime.
She fed Quinnley his usual bowlful of chicken. Hopkins was given a mix of fresh greens and strawberries. Once fed, she let him out to romp around the kitchen. While the cat ate and the rabbit frolicked. Fury sat at the kitchen table and poured herself a glass of whiskey. And stared at it.
There was another glass beside it. It sat untouched from the night before. She set this glass alongside its twin and turned away from the table.
(I let the day go by
I always say goodbye)
4 p.m.
It is a Thursday. Characteristically, Thursday afternoons are spent composing. Yet, there was no music. No quarter notes. No eighth notes. No staccato or crescendo. It was silent in the house.
Fury was back in her room, laying in her bed staring out the window. Quinnley was perched on her head. She did not care.
Hopkins was running free in the house and chewing on the moulding. He was a very happy rabbit.
(I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still)
9 p.m.
She managed to catch a few hours of sleep. Her insomnia was self imposed. The lack of drive was something else.
Something new. The clock was broken , so she had no idea what time it was. Or what day it was.
The moonlight filtered in through the curtains. She stared at the shadows dancing on the floor. In another town-shadows that silthered and curled brought the things of nightmares.
Here they just told the stories of elves and dragons. Deep inside she knew she should be afraid.
But it just was not there at all,fear.
(Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head )
3 a.m. The Witching Hour.
She finally emerged from her cocoon. It was not a metamorphasis. Amitiel, Fury, The Fallen padded silently to the window. Once there she parted the curtains and looked out and up. The two moons were still foreign to her after all these years. Just like this feeling was foreign to her.
The bells on the tree chimed as they always did at 3 a.m. It was like the laughter of angels, or the crying of a fallen angel.
All in one.
She listened, pressing her forehead against the windowpane, fingertips framing her reflection.
(I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on)
For all of her control, through all of cleaning, the stoicism, the Ice Queen exterior.
This was all entirely human. .
(I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.)
**Song lyrics in parenthesis. "World spins madly on"-The Weepies