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sweetsalome Salome goes for a walk after dinner, her hands in her coat pockets, her breath puffing out in front of her as her boots crunch on the frozen, icy ground. She doesn't know where she's going, but a walk seems like a good idea, all the noise of the house and the commotion of the holidays has stirred up too many thoughts and unanswered questions.
It seems like winter does that, the nights are longer and the days are shorter. More night leaves more time to think, and laying in bed in the darkness it's easy to question everything with no satisfactory conclusions. So she walks at night, and kicks dead, wet leaves out of her way before stopping at the every edge of the property. That slight incline that allows her to look down at the fields and houses below her. Everything is still, everything is calm.
People move about in their houses, lights flicker in windows and spill out on to the black ground. Bright eyes looking out on to the wide, empty night. In the cold she remembers stories about the cold, the little match girl, and Gretchen who claws through the snow with her child that Faust has denied. Only to lay the child at the foot of a statue she believes, in her delirium to be an angel. Salvation.
Salome believes in salvation, she believes in redemption, but it seems - especially at moments like this, that it's for everyone but herself. There needs to be some sort of guidance, some sort of path that should be visible in these times of darkness. There should be something there.
"Where are you?" She speaks to no one but expects an answer. In response, it begins to snow, and she knows that in a few minutes everything will be clean again.
It seems like winter does that, the nights are longer and the days are shorter. More night leaves more time to think, and laying in bed in the darkness it's easy to question everything with no satisfactory conclusions. So she walks at night, and kicks dead, wet leaves out of her way before stopping at the every edge of the property. That slight incline that allows her to look down at the fields and houses below her. Everything is still, everything is calm.
People move about in their houses, lights flicker in windows and spill out on to the black ground. Bright eyes looking out on to the wide, empty night. In the cold she remembers stories about the cold, the little match girl, and Gretchen who claws through the snow with her child that Faust has denied. Only to lay the child at the foot of a statue she believes, in her delirium to be an angel. Salvation.
Salome believes in salvation, she believes in redemption, but it seems - especially at moments like this, that it's for everyone but herself. There needs to be some sort of guidance, some sort of path that should be visible in these times of darkness. There should be something there.
"Where are you?" She speaks to no one but expects an answer. In response, it begins to snow, and she knows that in a few minutes everything will be clean again.
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OOC:
Date: 2008-12-06 04:03 am (UTC)Re: OOC:
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