A World for the Guilty

9 Lives

 Your arms, yellow and black like a fierce tiger, once rising every morning and resting under your head each night, now lay limp on a bed of breathing grass and fallen leaves. You realize that you are no longer a fierce tiger, but a tiger lily, just as beautiful, yet much more afraid, even afraid of the leaves.

Your legs, once running through dandelions and fields of tulips, now lay limp on a ground that breathes.

Your mouth, once singing beautiful melodies in a language they never heard before, once kissing your mother when you saw her beauty. You remember that you never kissed her goodbye before you stepped into the road. A tranquil smile rests upon your lifeless face, and, riddled with scarlet blood, it would give anything to kiss it's mother one last time. 

Your yellow eyes, once youthful, lustrous and radiant, that relished your sister's youth. The eyes that witnessed her going to school for the first time, wondering, mystified, where she was going and if she would come back. She did... at the end of each day, and now you wonder if you will ever come back for her, as she did for you. You wonder if you will see your mother's kind smile of understanding and purity ever again and if you will ever get up from this ground that is covered in grime. 

Your sharp ears can't move any longer, but they can hear the noises that stain your mind. They hear the dark void that surrounds you and the moon's teal heartbeat, beating down on the soft ground. They hear the strong wind, once only a soft breeze, but now carrying your time away with strong arms. 

You hear a strong beating and wish with all your heart that it is, in fact, your heart, just so you can know that you are still alive, though consciousness is merciless. You find it crushing at your mind with two words to your story: The End. Curiosity overpowers fear as you wonder what the beating could be. "Could it be the car that hit me?" You wonder anxiously, "Or is it the waves of the ocean? A person putting wood onto a fire?"  You remember sitting by the ocean with your mother and sister, hearing the crashing of the waves onto the shore and the crackling of the warm fire in front of you. Now all you can hear is the crashing of a car. You would give up everything to be there right now, hearing the calming crashing of the waves and crackling of the fire, instead of the frightening beating sound that you are yet to identify, feeling the warm fire on your cool face instead of being beaten by cold, strong wind on a cold, bitter day.

 You can't open your eyes, but through the slits of them, you see a blurry, vague image. You can't make out much but some odd shapes and colours: magenta, blue, black, and yellow. Your eyes open slowly and involuntarily. To your surprise, you see a woman that you have never seen before. She wears a white dress with blue floral patterns on them and a magenta apron and black, old-fashioned shoes, although, the odd thing is that that is all that you can see of her. You can only see below her waist. The upper part of her body seems to fade into the yellow light behind her. You believe that the beating sound you heard earlier was her walking towards you, and you wonder what fate awaits for you. 

Your eyes are glued to her and you feel as if you are in a trans. "Come here, Feleena." She says calmly, in a voice like honey. You want to, although your knees feel soft and week, like spaghetti that has been boiled for too long. It takes you what seems like forever to finally move a single toe... then a paw... then a leg... and before you know it, you're on your paws, wobbling like a new-born kitten. You walk towards her lazily. You want to ask her so many questions: "Please tell me who you are." "Where am I?" "Let me know where you came from." and, most importantly, "Where are we going?" Although, you can't. You can't muster a single word, let alone open your mouth. Once you reach her, she leads the way through yellow mist. You finally muster enough strength and confidence to ask one very important question: "Where are we going?" She keeps walking ahead of you as she says, "We're coming back for her."

~~~~~~~

Catrina's arms, dressed in yellow sleeves, like sunlight and dandelions, once stretching sleep away each morning and resting under her pillow each night, now lay limp on a bed of dying grass and dancing leaves. She realizes that she is no longer sunlight, but a simple reflection of sun on the water. Just as beautiful, but much more scared; even scared of the leaves.