Dreams of Rescue (May 2020)
Weeping, Waiting
She weeps now, and to those watching that's all she does. Immobile and fragile, consumed by the predatory thing inside her. Almost gone. Almost.
But she also remembers. Days of youthful heroics, laughing, and unrequited devotion. A gentle smile, and the electric thrill that coursed through her when that smile shone in her direction. The world is young when you are young, but gets old so fast.
Weeping, she dreams of rescue, of being able to stop weeping. But there's no rescue, no escape.
She weeps, and to those watching that's all she does. But that isn't all she is.
This one was inspired by, of all things, a giant stone elephant in the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild video game.
In the game, a hero finds herself a ghost trapped inside said giant stone elephant, which was an elaborate machine she once piloted. Rendered immobile by the villain of the piece, the machine was left stationary in the middle of a lake for a century or so. Only able to constantly gush water from its trunk, and with the hero helpless inside, fading.
It was all quite sad, and brought to mind the confinements and reductions inflicted by motor neuron and neuro-degenerative diseases. Hence this story, which was also coloured by a visit I made many years ago to my paternal grandmother in a care home, shortly before she died.