I stand here in the sand, my toes hidden, kisses of white and yellow foam brought to me by the ocean. The sky is just as dark and just as deep as the water; I cannot tell where the sky ends and where the ocean begins. I look at the sky and my eyes search for starts, but all I see is darkness.
Not long ago there had been light and there had been hope. The horizon was promising, the exciting feeling of coming home, the familiar smell of salt and sand. I still didn't know why, still was not aware of what had put in my heart the will to come. But something had, and now that I was here, all I wanted was to run.
After the events of last summer I had been hesitant of coming back, but after all those years, all those summers, there was no way I was going to run again.
However, at the very first moment I set foot on this town I knew. I knew that something had changed and it didn't took me long to realize what it was.
Deeply I breathed, lungs feeling with the familiar sensation, mind swirling with memories. Memories of this town, of past lives, of forgotten shadows and people. People, that is what the town is missing. It's a deserted island.
I break my trance and I walk away from the ocean, never looking back; that is what I had lived by; but now...
As I walk away, towards the quiet streets, the sky gets darker. I take the black leather gloves in my back pocket and I put them on, cover my weapons.
The town is not big, just a piece of land surronded by ocean. Buildings of metal and concrete; glass and lifeless structures. It used to be alive, over-flooded with cars, people and magic. Everyone walked the streets freely, nothing bad ever happened. It was the safest place on earth. Now, however, everything was different. What had been alive was now dead, there was a draught, an empty hole.
And all of that, because of me.
I walked these streets, over and over again. I knew the path as the back of my hand, I could do it in my sleep. Left turn, ten blocks down, two left and you arrived. A white house, or that was what it used to be not so long ago. No the ivyq my father had fought for so long had won. All around the house, ivy climbing up and down, turning corners, entering windows and blocking doors. And that ivy was now dead.
And between that darkness, and between that death, there was something else. At first it was just a hum, that became a rustle and then was just a tap. There, near the dead ivy, on top of a statue stood a starling. Small but powerful, eyes piercing mine.
The ivy is dead now, it seemed to sing. What are you doing now? It seemed to ask. The ivy is dead now, what are you doing now?
"I don't know, I don't," I told the starling.
But the ivy is dead, you know that, it mocked me.
"No, maybe it's not. It's asleep!" Because that it was I saw, what I wished.
But the ivy is dead now, what are you doing now?
And so I ran again, but I could not escape this deathly staring.
But the ivy is dead now, what are you doing now?
And I kept running, towards the sea.
But the ivy is dead now, what are you doing now?
And I hit the sand.
But the ivy is dead now, what are you doing now?
And I searched the sky.
But the ivy is dead now, what are you doing now?
And there were no stars.
an utterly personal piece