Before the End is Told
Jul. 27th, 2006 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shosenWith such choices before her, the woman could see but one option. She turned to the golden door. “All the wealth in the world could not make up for the pain that is hidden here. I will not choose it.” She turned to the stone door. “Even though this promises peace, the price is too high. I will not choose it.” She turned to the wooden door. “Suffering is kept here, but not alone. I will choose it.”
“Then knock on the door, childe, and accept your choice.”
The woman took a deep breath, raised the knocker, and struck it against the door three times, each resounding with the deep low notes of a beaten drum. When the last note faded, the door opened slowly, and the woman stepped through.
But oh, what suffering lay on the other side. Joy was found, only to be taken away. Home was found, only to cast her out. Strength was found, only to be shattered. And then, the worst of it, a terrible curse that twisted her form and distorted her face, leaving her with the figure of a stranger, entrapped in the body of a monster. With no one in the world she could turn to, with nothing of her old life left to her, she searched in desperation for help of any kind. What she found was dark promises from those with dark hearts, but she accepted them without care, until at least she saw how wrong they were and how wrong she was, and despaired.
Here, when she was so lost, she met those who offered another path, and again, she accepted without care. Though she still hurt, was still wrong and twisted and cursed, she found now the other promise of the door. She found consolation in friends and family, and she began, for the first time since making her choice, to hope.
Ah, but here too there was suffering, as there must be with such things. For her friends and family had trials of their own to face, they hurt and cursed as she was there was nothing she could do to help. Those dark choices had left her with the ability to hurt and destroy, but not to soothe or heal. She was left to watch as their pain grew, and the small hope she had found began to bleed away.
One day, when her heart ached with the weight of it, she fell to her knees and yelled at the sky. She cried out the pain of the suffering, hers from her curse and her choices, her family’s from their own ills, and she wished with all her broken heart that she had chosen a different door.
“It does not good,” the voice said from the shadows of the mountains around her, “to weep and wish for possibilities long gone.”
“Why are you here now?” the woman cried. “To laugh at me?”
“Of course not, childe,” the voice soothed. “I’m here to remind you that possibilities always exist.”
“I thought you just said they were gone.”
“There are some things that are forever gone once we turn from the offering of them. Once the choice is made, those cannot be changed.”
“Then I don’t understand what you mean to show me now.”
“Ah, simply that there are choices that will always exist. Look to you left, childe.”
The woman stood and turned on shaking legs, and in the rock face of the mountain found herself once more before the door of stone that was draped in cobwebs. “This is the choice you offer me?”
“I’m not the one who brings this choice to you, childe. You bring it to yourself.”
The skull on the door knocker smiled out at her with its promise of peace, and she watched it, her hand reaching out towards the cold stone.
“Then knock on the door, childe, and accept your choice.”
The woman took a deep breath, raised the knocker, and struck it against the door three times, each resounding with the deep low notes of a beaten drum. When the last note faded, the door opened slowly, and the woman stepped through.
But oh, what suffering lay on the other side. Joy was found, only to be taken away. Home was found, only to cast her out. Strength was found, only to be shattered. And then, the worst of it, a terrible curse that twisted her form and distorted her face, leaving her with the figure of a stranger, entrapped in the body of a monster. With no one in the world she could turn to, with nothing of her old life left to her, she searched in desperation for help of any kind. What she found was dark promises from those with dark hearts, but she accepted them without care, until at least she saw how wrong they were and how wrong she was, and despaired.
Here, when she was so lost, she met those who offered another path, and again, she accepted without care. Though she still hurt, was still wrong and twisted and cursed, she found now the other promise of the door. She found consolation in friends and family, and she began, for the first time since making her choice, to hope.
Ah, but here too there was suffering, as there must be with such things. For her friends and family had trials of their own to face, they hurt and cursed as she was there was nothing she could do to help. Those dark choices had left her with the ability to hurt and destroy, but not to soothe or heal. She was left to watch as their pain grew, and the small hope she had found began to bleed away.
One day, when her heart ached with the weight of it, she fell to her knees and yelled at the sky. She cried out the pain of the suffering, hers from her curse and her choices, her family’s from their own ills, and she wished with all her broken heart that she had chosen a different door.
“It does not good,” the voice said from the shadows of the mountains around her, “to weep and wish for possibilities long gone.”
“Why are you here now?” the woman cried. “To laugh at me?”
“Of course not, childe,” the voice soothed. “I’m here to remind you that possibilities always exist.”
“I thought you just said they were gone.”
“There are some things that are forever gone once we turn from the offering of them. Once the choice is made, those cannot be changed.”
“Then I don’t understand what you mean to show me now.”
“Ah, simply that there are choices that will always exist. Look to you left, childe.”
The woman stood and turned on shaking legs, and in the rock face of the mountain found herself once more before the door of stone that was draped in cobwebs. “This is the choice you offer me?”
“I’m not the one who brings this choice to you, childe. You bring it to yourself.”
The skull on the door knocker smiled out at her with its promise of peace, and she watched it, her hand reaching out towards the cold stone.