Silent Pantomime

Chapter 62 | Bloodcore and gore

Chapter 62🌌: cw- blood🩸

Power is imaginary.

That's what I thought as I was stood up on my bike, speeding down the hill that had a rickety pot-hole covered path on it over the top of the old motorway. I had earphones in, playing music at full volume with songs that I swear will play during the credits after the world ends. A couple of cars sped past me and nearly knocked me off my bike, but because I knew they were all too scared to drive on the newer, faster motorway with the 70mph speed limit, I carried on limitless. I wasn't going to get killed by a coward.

The gears on my bike had been broken for years, so it made it feel even faster as everything felt so loose. So free. Because I had a messed up head anyway, I didn't bother to wear a helmet as I doubted cracking my head open would cause any more damage to the already damaged thing, so my hair was flying behind me becoming a tangled mess.

I imagined suddenly slamming the brakes on halfway down the hill, making the back tire flip over the front, making me fall face first before I tumbled down as a pile of broken bones. I could easily have died, a messy corpse that would have been as smart as the devil but twice as pretty. I would have been so red that the world would be devoid of all colour without anyone knowing or realising why.

That's why power is imaginary. You can do as much as you want, but then it can all be knocked out of you in a single blow, especially the ones to your head. One second you hold the world, the next second it's crushing your bloody but beautiful corpse. I could slam onto the brakes, but anyone could have done that to or for me. Then the power I thought I held would be passed to them until they too fell off their bike and broke their crown. So power is imaginary, it's a mindset. If you think you have it, you probably do. Or not. Imaginations and heads are strange places.

For instance, the Ancient Greeks believed Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, but also the goddess of wild animals. She was also the goddess of chastity and childbirth. These godly groups all contradicted each other, but she was powerful in all those things. So did they cancel each other out, or double her influence? The obvious answer is that it didn't and doesn't matter, because she's not real. She's imaginary. Always has been, always will be. But people believed in her even though she didn't make sense. So I was hoping that was what would have happened with me. I wanted to be Hazel, the mysterious, popular, pretty girl who no one quite understood because she had an odd streak about her, but was envied for it. I wanted to be that Hazel because she sounded powerful. But power is imaginary, so that's why I was biking as far away from the world as possible.

The chaos of it all was pissing me off now, because killing it with kindness wasn't working. I wanted to be a controversial goddess, but the universe was getting in my way. Life unfortunately isn't a fairytale where everyone gets what they want, instead it's all bloodcore and gore.

A shitty deal, but the stars shook on it.

Supposedly, it makes the ones that stand out to them that bit more interesting. The ones that prefer to be called creative rather than psychopaths; the ones that write "I want to break things" with their blood from their cuts of the wine glasses they smashed; the ones that have grins as sharp as knives. The ones like me.

So I was speeding away from all the inhuman humans; the oozing sameness that rang out in red droplets; the madness that was in the pit of my stomach; and the bottles of poison that were the same size, colour and weight, but one was love and the other hate.

I didn't like power being imaginary, and I partially blamed my concussion for being the reason why I was suddenly thinking more clearly. My brain was stupidly right for once, and it hated it.

That's why I was escaping it.

All of it.

Before I'd ran away from the school to run away on my floating train, I'd sprinted to my mum's grave. It was a sweet moment really, because I'd finally left her the red roses that were actually authentic and sentimental and not painted.

I still found it slightly ironic that I was leaving a dead person something that soon was going to die, but I found irony in everything, so I didn't laugh at myself. Instead I patted the unloved piece of stone with my hand, and then smashed it up.

Unexpected, what a shock. How ungodly.

But I was running away from my past now, because all of it creeping into my present was risking everything, so my past was gone. Gone as in smashed up. Smashed up as in dead.

I loved my mum, but she was gone. Anything in my head of her now was merely imaginary, because she'd moved on without me, and so did everyone else - the world kept spinning and expanding and growing busier and darker, but I wasn't ready. So I was just going to pretend it didn't exist and smile through it.

Smashing it up seemed like the easier option. Smashing it all up and then running away.

I wasn't going to make myself eat any magical Eat Me Cakes to shrink me into nothingness, because I wasn't going to get killed by a coward.

So I was tumbling down that hill fast, because getting away couldn't happen quick enough. Memories were a burden, so I wanted to burn them. Friendships were risky, so I had to forget them. And love, well, I'd overdosed on that years ago so it didn't affect me anymore as I drank-drove away on my floating train.

I could hear all the people that had been on this same hill fifty years ago, the arguments and murders and endings. It didn't seem like the best place for a beginning, but it was better than The Past.

"I'm intoxicated by the chaos, Mum. Don't you see? The wise truth. My horrors are all turning into ash as the town behind me is burning. That's not imaginary, is it?"

It was.

Everything was a lie.

"Goodbye Mum."

I was falling at an uncontrollable speed.

That meant it was inevitable now.

Life.

"I'm sorry, but I'm forgetting you now."

And I did.

Then my music that I swore was going to play during the credits after the world finally ends stopped.

A/N
chapter length and posting consistency doesn't exist🙃

also I'm almost crying at the fact that I keep saying Hazel is popular when she literally only has three friends that she keeps ditching—