Clockwork Firefly

Clockwork Firefly - Chapter Twenty-Five

Peter sat idly on the arm of the chair in the comfort of the solarium, though the sunlight was fading and he wouldn't be able to see the pages he flipped through any longer. Each page of the book was devoted to a single face. Mary Mickleson. Bane of his dreams. He woke each morning with her image burned on his eyelids and this was the only way to purge it. One page she stood smiling, the light soft against her skin, her eyes bright with merriment and another showed her almost devoured by shadow, her eyes sharp as flint, her throat and arms bearing bruises as she stood defiantly despite her state of undress, the next was her in profile, sleeping against a chest notable by the wide suspenders though the remainder of The Jon was not in the picture.

Two months and as many weeks. Halloween was swift approaching and the promise he'd made to himself to be fine by then was looking to be as fruitless a vow as his promise to be fine in a week, or by Labor Day had been. He could hear the band practicing, their voices blending in beautiful harmonies that drifted through the glass.

"...I don't want to live my life alone

I was waiting for you all my life ..."

He chuckled at the thought and hummed along with the chorus, his eyes drifting closed, letting the words be a prayer of sorts. A plea for release.

Set me free, my Honeybee...

He found couldn't think of her as a bee though. She wasn't the sort to flit from flower to flower. For a moment he let his mind turn on what she was if not a bee. Instantly, he pictured a firefly. A light in the darkness, elusive and bright and small. The words he knew well and he lifted his voice faintly to follow along.

"Hello, Goodbye t'was nice to know you

How I find myself without you that I'll never know.

I let myself go..."

He reached up and brushed his hand over his unshaven jaw. Wasn't that the truth? He didn't really seem to have a reason to get all spruced up nowadays.

"Hello, Goodbye I'm rather crazy

and I never thought I was crazy,

but what do I know?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know quite a bit, actually."

He opened his eyes and frowned, embarrassed about being caught so vulnerable. He looked over at his brother, standing with his arms crossed, smirking as he leaned against a support post.

"What do you want, Pete?" He flipped the sketchbook shut and gave his brother a dirty look. He had to admit though, while he himself had gone to pot, Pete had never looked better. He'd gotten a bit of sun and while he couldn't tan, he had become merely exceptionally pale instead of ghostly white. Though he'd lost the blue tint almost completely from his lips, his hair retained highlights of an azure so deep one had to see it in full sun to note the difference from the surrounding ebony.

"Me? Nothing. The question is, what do you want, Peter?" He pushed off the post and walked over, dropping into the wicker chair across from him. "As if I don't know the answer already. You've been pouting since she left."

Peter frowned. "Yes, she left. She chose to sneak out in the middle of the night and not even give the common courtesy of saying goodbye. It's more than obvious she doesn't give a damn about any of us."

"No? Then where did I get this?" He held up a note card and began to read. "Dear Colonel Walter. I write to let you know that at last I have earned enough to begin paying you back. Enclosed you will find ten dollars, and my promise that I will send more whenever I can until I feel I have repaid my debt to you. Though it remains obvious I wronged you unforgivably when I left, I promise I have not forgotten what I owe. Please give my sincere and affectionate greetings to all your family, Mary E Mickleson."