The Beginning of the End

Brother and sister. Lovers against the grain of the world. Lovers against the rules of what love should be. Through the distant years that have steadily dimmed, you can see them silhouetted before the sinking sun. The barren lands sighing as their breaking hearts long for release, it’s the moment they’ve been waiting for. The moment they can leave behind their skeletal prisons once and for all. Bringing the gun up, he places his lips upon her forehead and kisses her one last time. Closing her eyes, he steps back and pauses before shooting her dead. Standing over her lifeless body, he’s meant to turn the gun on himself. But something stops him. Some kind of survival instinct. Sand swirling around his feet, he goes ahead and buries her. And then he forgets her. Repressing the truth of what he has done. Of what he is. The years come and go, flowing like some terrible dream, a nightmare with no sign of escape. Living in a labyrinth of pain, he endlessly repeats himself. His victims are empty vessels, desperate attempts at uncovering why the devil picks away, day after day after day. He’s always digging, always trying to find what’s at the heart of it all while his sisters bones silently wait for his return. In a ring of stones, they exist in a vacuum, bound in stale isolation until one day they call to him through the breeze, willing him to find her again. She’s not dead, she’s behind the looking glass. Limbo and purgatory, dazzling and pornographic. She’s somewhere in between. Some kind of mythical ghost, the whore of his heart. Wondrous and infinite, she’s beyond the realms of beauty and understanding. Not hearing her awakened voice, he walks the streets a broken shell, not sensing how everything is on the verge of becoming. The hidden magic, the ones that are approaching, ready to ignite the fuse. All those empty vessels that will soon have meaning, all those bodies that have fallen, ready to serve their intended purpose. Through the eons of time and space, someone is coming for him as he moves unaware. Someone born of the future, the incestuous circle of life. The Magician he calls himself. Sharpened white teeth and darkened eyes, he resembles a skinny Jesus, all unholy and fucked. Veins full of ink and blood on his hands, he desires nothing but death. Death, the thing that glues everything together, that sparks all futures and pasts into existence. Worming his way through the unseen layers of time, someone else is coming too. Born from the same seed as the magical one, she comes not to kill, but to protect. The opposite of death, she is life. Cara they call her. Soft as snow and lighter than air, warm inside and flowering like biblical gardens. And so all those wasted days, now ready to be obliterated. All those yesterdays, ready to burn. Ready to wake, his sister calling to him from her forgotten grave, he opens his eyes and prepares himself. The two from another place, born from their parents future reunion, they wait on the other side, ready to move when the time is right. In anticipation of the moment when all realities merge, the seconds tick away until those pale eyes see the truth once more.

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