FieldofQuiet
- Прочтений 6,824
- Голосов 234
- Частей 17
Stories do not care for our maps, nor do they end where we plant our flags.
We cross this cruel land learning only one true lesson: that everything we love is merely borrowed. The valley swallows men whole. The winter steals the green from the earth. Great houses grow silent, and names we once whispered in the dark dissolve into nothing but memories, the only territory where the dead are still allowed to walk.
Perhaps that is why grief, as sharp and biting as a north wind, eventually feels like an old friend. There is a terrible mercy in its certainty. The ground does not bargain, and the soil does not give back what it takes. Once the spark has left a man, your only task is to learn how to carry the heavy, hollow ache he left behind.
But every now and then, the world breaks its own laws.
Sometimes, what the earth claimed does not stay buried. A face you surrendered to memory suddenly stands before you, breathing beneath the very same sun. Yet, after years spent learning how to breathe around their absence, their return does not feel like a miracle. It feels like a phantom, too cruel to trust and too real to deny.
There are ghosts we weep for because they are gone.
And then there are the ghosts who trail dust into the parlor and come home.
We like to think the trail is the great test of a soul. But perhaps we are wrong. The hardest part isn't surviving the crossing.
It is learning how to live after the world has taught you only how to survive.
And perhaps, at last, Kayce Dutton will learn the one thing he has never known how to do: let go.
-
Triggers warnings.
- Trauma
- PTSD
- Violence
- Blood
- Murder
- Eventual sexual content
- Torture
I do not own Yellowstone/Marshals or its original characters. I only own my original characters and storyline.