Your Face (kandigurl) wrote,
Your Face
kandigurl

LJ Idol - Week 3 - In Another Castle

Ours was your classic love story. You know, love at first sight, a short courtship (only a few thousand years), a secret wedding with a few close friends. It's hard to meet others when you're like us, you don't have much of a social circle. You're kind of stuck to one place, as it were.

Well, that is, until someone moves you. Which is exactly what happened to us, one otherwise average summer afternoon. The sun shone down on our mountainside, and suddenly some creature with two legs was hacking away at us with this big, sharp, metal thing. Just hammering away, over and over. Split me and my love right down the middle.

I'd never felt so empty, so alone. She was still right next to me, I could see her, speak to her, but I felt disconnected. A piece of my heart had, quite literally, been torn from me. If I had known that was the last time I would see her, I would have thought of something to say, something grand. Instead, I remained silent, dumbstruck.

The creature worked steadily, separating the bond that had taken time and energy, the likes of which he would never understand, to form. Soon enough, I was sitting on something cold, lumbering, moving, with great round rubber things spinning faster than the sun, pulling me farther and farther away from my love.

Others like me, who had just been pulled from everything they knew, surrounded me on all sides. But I couldn't speak to them. My sorrow filled me too deeply, you understand? I couldn't even think about them or I would fall apart. Well, I wouldn't actually fall apart. I'm made of stronger stuff than that. But my feelings, the parts of me that you can't see, those would fall apart for sure. So I remained silent.

It didn't really matter, though, because they put me next to some guy named Phil, who seemed to find this whole thing some great adventure. They slathered me with stuff that was wet like rain at first, but then dried, hardening, permanently attaching me to my new friend Phil.

"This is so exciting, don't you think?" Phil had asked me during the slathering process. "We get to be part of something bigger! Something grand! We get to be the solid walls that house a noble family, we get to watch history happen! History, buddy!"

Phil liked to call me "buddy" because I was too broken up to tell him my name. Watching history might be great for Phil. But I'd been perfectly happy watching my own history unfold.

In time, I began to forget how her voice sounded. I could still see her face, grey and lumpy, like mine...but she had the sweetest bit of granite just above her left corner. And she loved to laugh. I might not remember how she said my name, but I could remember how she laughed at my jokes.

Phil was right about one thing. We watched dozens and dozens of two-legged creatures playing out their lives before us, listening to their clandestine conversations. They liked to say "The walls have ears", and they weren't wrong. I distracted myself by listening to them, hearing their stories, pretending I had two legs myself, wishing I could stand up and leave this wall the way they so easily left the room.

One day, a man came to speak in my room who said fascinating things. Where most of the two-legged creatures contented themselves with gossip about other two-legged creatures, this man spoke of the nature of everything. I listened, fascinated, as he talked about the energy present in all things, even inanimate objects. Like this table, he said, like your shirt, sir, or even...

...even the walls.

Everything is made up of tiny particles, he said, bouncing around each other, knocking back and forth...

That very night, I began to focus inward, to see if I could notice my own tiny particles. I waited until Phil had fallen asleep, because I couldn't focus through his constant yammering. But soon enough, it was just me and my thoughts. Me, myself and my particles.

At first, I felt nothing. I won't lie to you, I panicked a little. I thought perhaps the man who spoke of particles had been a fraud, a scam artist trying to get in good with the nobles. I wept silently, feeling my one small chance at returning home slipping away.

And then something moved.

Nothing big. And certainly nothing impressive.

But something significant had moved.

I practiced every night after that. I practiced as kings fell and princes took over, I practiced as Phil told me his entire life story, I practiced with only one thought in mind: My lovely, granite-flecked girl.

And then, one morning, as the sun spilled its light over my aging body and flooded me with warmth, I heard a crack.

The stuff that stuck me to Phil had come loose. I focused harder, focused with all of my might -

Another crack.

My heart leapt, and for the first time in hundreds of years, I let out a whoop of joy so loud it startled Phil out of his slumber.

"Oh, hey, buddy!" He'd said. "I didn't know you could talk! Are you okay?"

I smiled. "I'm fine," I said. "I'm going home."
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