Let's stay
a moment longer.
The air hangs heavy, like the breath before a
storm, a thick tension that wraps around the
orchard, around the town.
The trees tremble with it, their
branches shifting,
their roots stirring in the earth as though they
are alive, aware of
what is coming.
And the god, buried beneath them,
wakes fully now, its pulse
resonating with the beat of the
girl's heart
She feels it in her
cheat, the god's
presence, like a slow
ache.
It isn't just in her body
anymore.
It is in the soil beneath her feet, in the
air she breathes, in the very essence of
the town itself.
It is a part of them - a
part of everything that has
been buried.
The weight of it presses on her, and
she wonders if it's already
too late to undo
what she has done.
If she could take back the words,
take back the poems, take
back the harvest, would it stop
the god from rising?
But the truth settles into her chest,
heavy and
undeniable - the
god is awake. It will
not sleep again.
Not until the price is paid.
Mesha Dreams in Ink. 