Chapter 2
Arcadia
12•15•8993. 21:03.
These are the moments where I wish I could be seen when I travel through time. I wanted to warn the woman, warn myself, about the large, bumpy scar that she would soon get down the left side of her face. About the scars in her heart that will ravage her memories and make her mind spin with remorse, confusion, and despair. Some of her best memories will disappear and never return again, while her worst memories will haunt her every hour. The love and hope for her life that she once kept safely in solitude will be washed from her by the powerful, roaring river known as the past.
I can't do anything to help her. This crushes me to my very core.
I walk towards her, my eyes watering, and pick up the bow that she had just set down. In her reality, nothing about their timeline changes, but I needed to hold this weapon again. I don't remember how I got this, but this was Magnuson's weapon.
The grip on Magnus' bow is worn and burned from his pressure. I run my fingers over the divots and grooves that his strong fingers have made. The pearl-colored paint is worn from his hand and reveals the flexible wood underneath. A crack slithers through the bow from overuse and too much strength, but it has somehow stayed together.
I miss him so much.
Magnus was my best friend. We healed each other's scars, mended loose threads, and saved each other's lives. I was a shoulder for him to cry on and he was a face to tell everything to.
I might never see him again. That fact terrifies me. It haunts my dreams, an angry spirit, and plucks at my fears and regrets. It dives through my memories of him and distorts everything about him. I can barely remember him. I am only positive of one thing.
He saved me.
Suddenly, the bow turns to dust in my hands. The particles flow through my fingers and fall into the grass, a waterfall of sand.
Another piece of Magnus is gone.
I shriek and struggle to stay standing. I use a large barrel of spears to support myself. My vision is more clouded than the evening sky and my hands shake with fear. My breathing becomes shallow and quick. I collapse next to the barrel and the Abyss' world fades away.
•••••••••••
12•15•8993. 21:03.
These are the moments where I wish I could be seen when I travel through time. I wanted to warn the woman, warn myself, about the large, bumpy scar that she would soon get down the left side of her face. About the scars in her heart that will ravage her memories and make her mind spin with remorse, confusion, and despair. Some of her best memories will disappear and never return again, while her worst memories will haunt her every hour. The love and hope for her life that she once kept safely in solitude will be washed from her by the powerful, roaring river known as the past.
I can't do anything to help her. This crushes me to my very core.
I walk towards her, my eyes watering, and pick up the bow that she had just set down. In her reality, nothing about their timeline changes, but I needed to hold this weapon again. I don't remember how I got this, but this was Magnuson's weapon.
The grip on Magnus' bow is worn and burned from his pressure. I run my fingers over the divots and grooves that his strong fingers have made. The pearl-colored paint is worn from his hand and reveals the flexible wood underneath. A crack slithers through the bow from overuse and too much strength, but it has somehow stayed together.
I miss him so much.
Magnus was my best friend. We healed each other's scars, mended loose threads, and saved each other's lives. I was a shoulder for him to cry on and he was a face to tell everything to.
I might never see him again. That fact terrifies me. It haunts my dreams, an angry spirit, and plucks at my fears and regrets. It dives through my memories of him and distorts everything about him. I can barely remember him. I am only positive of one thing.
He saved me.
Suddenly, the bow turns to dust in my hands. The particles flow through my fingers and fall into the grass, a waterfall of sand.
Another piece of Magnus is gone.
I shriek and struggle to stay standing. I use a large barrel of spears to support myself. My vision is more clouded than the evening sky and my hands shake with fear. My breathing becomes shallow and quick. I collapse next to the barrel and the Abyss' world fades away.
•••••••••••
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