Glory

[Bastille Amtrum]

Glory:
(its vague for a reason)
Song:
The one Bastille is humming/ playing
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8t9tzCUZuWQ&feature=related

The cold of the keys beneath my fingers, it was like I was playing a melody on marble. The tune as soft and sure as was my voice that hummed along silently. I felt whole. Something I had not felt in years. Join me today as I play the melody of myself…the person I am now.

I had been a puppet with cut and tangled strings, wondering the world in search of the strength I would need to do the thing I needed to do most. This had been my plan ever since finding out I was the only legitimate heir to the Cunningham family. But my plans where my own, and in the story people thought a tragedy, my life to my own eyes was but a comedy with a action icing top. I began to smirk as I continued to hum. The song turning itself by muscle memory.

Everything was clear, and until the right time came, I would be an observer of the workings of the normal world. The world I would never be apart of, the world I knew I was beneath. The piano continued to churn. I was not suicidal mind you, I just knew that there where multiple reasons I needed to simply cease to exist, and that didn’t mean die per say…but I had to forget…and I had to get rid of my eyes.

This probably makes no sense to anyone besides me, because im trying to hide what my goal is, trying to hide what I ultimately must do. That is my secret, just like the secret behind the melody created on the cold ivory keys of the piano. I would stand for my own beliefs, I will say that…nothing has changed in me…I am still Bastille Vioetta Cunningham, and every person I have ever been is now all one in who I am now. Some would call it growing up, I called it simply opening ones eyes to simple truths.

The melody began to play again. Like the cold grey atmosphere one would feel in a misty grave yard, in the early morning. With the small breeze coming from the ocean you could see from the sea side sleeping place. The cold feeling of the stone and the homey look of the angels as the dawn broke in light purple, then crimson and slowly turning bluish. That crimson…matched my eyes right now. The chilly feeling signaling the end of autumn and the beginning of winter…as ice was on the ground and frost bit to the turning leaves on the trees. All this and more was played in the song.

I played the melody as in my head I saw the tomb stone I needed to see, I placed a rose on the grave and looked up at the angel smirking. God obviously had a higher plan for me. I continued on…walking down the path clinging the shawl to my shoulders as I over looked the ocean. My other hand grasped tightly to the black fence. The ocean was such a pretty grey color…almost like a mystic green if the sun hit it right. All this and more played by the keys of the piano.

Ill take the time to talk about something overly simple. My outfit. I wore a simple maroon colored skirt that was extremely old fashioned as it was above my waist and extended over my feet. My shirt was a simple white tank top tucked into the skirt and a blue blouse over that hanging out of the skirt. Due to the correctional facility and its drugs my hair still had an outrageous tendency to grow very long very fast. It only did so when my qi was activated however, my qi hadn’t been activated in a while so now it just grew abnormally fast. My hair, today, was to my waist and was let down on my back. I would cut it again tomorrow.

The cold keys came to one key lines, and so my left hand took over. My injured right hand went to rest in my lap as I continued to hum softly. My cold skin matched the temperature of the room. Of course for being mid afternoon it was extremely cold in here.

I lagged on the ending notes continuing it out as long as I could.

Let the story be told…I am reborn as one of who all I ever was. Let the song continue…until the time I am forced to stop. Let the workings of the world work my own self…and let that emotion of rivalry be erased…for it destroys everything.

Let me bare witness to everything…for I am the girl born into a misplaced age, where chivalry means nothing…and in the ending of the night…the tales of glorious legends, like king Arthur and Joan of arc…are all but forgotten like the person burned at the stake.

Would my life end like Joan of arcs? No, I knew that answer…those days where gone. Yet it had always been a hopeless dream of mine. In the end who was I…but a simple female who knew maybe too much of how the world worked. And like anyone who knew too much, just stood by and watched. After all only fools could act…

I would give anything to be a fool again…but it was not my fate, she smiled as she would make sure no one else stopped being a fool. This was my own new dream. And in the days of chivalry dead, I would cease to exist as merely a person who played their cards, to let others win…one who manipulated the game so I was the villain, so no one else had to be. It was a game I liked to play, and it was the game that had become reality.

Where has my heart gone? Lost in the prison of my mind…I’ll leave the glory to the others…I would become the enemy…and for this I needed to become stronger. My finger pressed upon a far left key on the piano sounding a low dark note. My fate had begun…I would return to school next week. I would return as who I had always been…Bastille Violette Cunningham…the prison of her own heart.