November 4th, 2004

Mask

Lucky Mud

Ivy knew that she was nothing more than lucky mud, that her fortune in pleasure and discomfort was temporary, and that her luck was a bittersweet thing, a seasonal gift, and one that would be taken before she could understand the true measure of it. Yet she knew that inside herself she had the power to create more lucky mud, and bestow the gift that had been given to her, that of suffering, to another which did not yet exist.





Even the monsters, who lived beyond her own forever, did not live past the dirt or sea, and they also were transitory.

This concept was so dark, that for a long time, she could not even acknowledge it. She was haunted at night until she began sleeping next to her little sister, and even then, in darkness she had to play the sweetness of the day in her head to avoid the specter of her own cyclical thoughts.

Love is a distraction, and so she fell in love often, with her friends and teachers and the sights and sounds of living, but these all just made sharp relief of her own pain.

Then she heard the song of those guardians on the borders, the echo of true joy and a profound optimism. Ivy was so filled that she finally turned her mind to that dark place, and shining, looked inside.


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