wonderful original story about Red and Blue, agents of opposing forces Agency (cyborgs?) and Garden (organic), who fight each other through strands of time and leave letters.
A rush of wind splits the earth, a roar in darkness. Red clutches the petrified trunk closer than a lover. The wind peaks, screams, tosses bones about. A new note rises above the ossuary clatter, woken by the cavern's wind whistling over precise fluted pits in the bones Red has hung. The note grows, shifts, and swells into a voice.
So I go. I travel farther and faster and harder than most, and I read, and I write, and I love cities. To be alone in a crowd, apart and belonging, to have distance between what I see and what I am.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets, I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you.
But never again like this.
I am so sorry. If I had been stronger. Faster. Smarter. Better. If I had been worth you. If–
You would not want me to curse myself this way.
You'll have to burn this. I hope you can keep it. I keep the memory. I imagine your hands on the paper. I imagine your fire.
I wish I could hold you.
I love you.
R.
