A Life of Lives

“…L-Let’s get behind that ridge…make camp. This liquor is really…hmm..."

“I gotta wash all this blood off…c-change clothes, at least. It was a good fight. He did well, d-don’t ya think? Got me a bit-"

“…No, I’m l-limpin’ because I limp, and I’m hurt because I hurt…s-shut your mind up. Ugh, this guy’s blood reeks! …I-It’s more his than mine.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we all smell now, don’t we?”

“…H-Have to say…super grateful for this whiskey. Hm. D-Don’t look at me like that. Who-who knew when I said, I’d’ve killed for a drink that it’d end up true. W-What’s it now? …‘ Ask, and you shall receive, just understand the difference between want and need.’…r-right?"

“…Hmm, gasp, all you w-want. You’ll eat his food, won’t you? …That’s-that’s what I thought. I-I really don’t understand how you can k-keep up this act of higher superiority and-and shun me. When I’m killin’ f-for us. We need food. We n-need supplies.”

“…And you know what else, that guy was on his own…t-those weren’t just doe bones in that f-fire of his. I-I told you, those were two tracks, one laggin’. W-Where do ya wager they went? H-Huh?! …HUH?!”

 “…W-Whatever, keep-keep bitin’ your tongue ‘til it bleeds, damnin’ me as a demon, in-in those thoughts of yours… If ya like blood so-so much, you’re welcome to ‘em… H-He had plenty, as ya can see. Or-or are your eyes failin’ ya now too?”

“…See, ya see…I-I don’t judge. If-If ya didn’t know…animals eat animals. If he, he killed me, he’d’ve killed you and ate…ate us both! I-I have no qualms with that. I’d’ve done the same if-if, I was him…”

“Yeah, y-yeah… All you do is: grunt, growl, gasp, and sigh...w-would ya scream if he took a bite? H-How ‘bout me? Would ya holla like you used too? T-Take me up on ya back like when I was an l-littling… Y-You could still do it, ya know…if ya wanted. I-I’m skin, you’re bones…y-you could bear it.”

“…Ugh! Ja-Ju-Just shut your damn mind up! (Coughs) …It-It’s like raging s-static in my ears! …F-Forget it! I don’t need this. I-I’m limpin’ ahead…finish this whiskey, a-alone. If the fire’s lit and y-you’re not there…your r-ration is mine! R-Remember, I’m the one who fought for it! (Coughs) …You-You can rip it out, my b-belly! G-Get drunk off my b-BLOOD! HA! MAYBE IT’D LOOSEN y-Y-YOU UP! (Violently Coughs)”

The mother grunted something similar to a derisive laugh, towards the end of her daughter’s corrosive speech: sighing once left behind. The liquor had assisted in unleashing the daughter’s tongue. Still, the real culprit of her sudden drunkenness: was the thrill of the fight, and the hungry pains gnawing at her hollow stomach – gurgling and groaning more than her mother’s disapproval.

It was becoming a frequented occurrence for the daughter to seek solace - in more or fewer words and meanings – after every reasonably heinous act, with a growing need to process these actions and reactions: aloud and outwards. Though the daughter preferred the company of her own mind, or private conversations amongst trees and friendly animals: disregard being an undented suit of armor. In these aggregate times, however, the daughter was finding herself mentally exhausted, with forestry: few and far between; and a welcoming animal: even further. Everything that surrounded seemingly dead and gone; or twisted and brittle to the touch: even themselves. Nonetheless, the desire to relay such things to an object with a heartbeat and discernable reactions was still strong within her.

While the mother, on the other hand, once the bright beginnings, to a long-awaited end, commenced: chose silence and distance as her armor. Only muttering choked prayers – in proven privacy - or releasing expressive sounds: when the purity of silence wasn’t deemed enough.

No matter how hard they tried to shut the other out: their thoughts comingled, whispering within the other’s ears…with silent answers always being shown crystal clear, behind their mirrored eyes.

∞

The heat stuck to everything, as well as the cold…

It seeped into their clothes and charred the skin. Boiling away sweat, only to produce more: creating a form of circular torture; by way of humid suffocation, from their own musts. A devious plot thickened: when the blazing sun once again made its lazy descent - irrespective of the surviving life clinging to one side – giving leave for the moon to shine; and the cold to burn instead. A continuous gambit: naturally employed by one organism, attempting to heal itself, from a former ally - that grew too intent on destroying them all. After the ocean reinstated its claim, with the other majority: to keep balance. Completing the yin, to the yang: half the world: water with little land, land with little water.

They were just two of those few who continued to cling and stubbornly survive, with an individual and mutual want of one more day. One: not as hot…but not too cold; maybe something in-between would appease. Until the sight of snowfall: meant something warmer than blistering desert sand underfoot. Though, all left a chill throughout the heart, with impressions of inescapability: when no longer cleansed by an assured tide or comforted by a winter’s blanket.

It was indeed out of spite: the mother and daughter continued to breathe and pure defiance that kept one foot in front of the other. Infinitely wearisome to move, and equally challenging to stay: to let oneself burn and sizzle, drown and suffer, or freeze and cease. So they just continued to be…wandering about, until life would leave them, just as naturally.

∞

In another space and time: she still had the strength to build a protective barrier of rocks around them, a sparse fire in the center, with the universe in full view.

The sight was pleasant. The daughter setting up camp within an open nook, carved out of compacted gravel: a hovel that once housed thousands, now just ruins of ruin, and a snug fit for two. The full moon grew extraordinarily luminous in the starless sky, magnifying the telling shadows, cast across the forests turned fields, turned metropolis, turned desert once more.

“…Aww, l-look at that. Y-Ya found your way! …A-Almost forgot the sound of your voice…Ha-ah! (Coughs Violently)”

“…Y-You’re j-just in-in time. I-I was eyein’ y-your crackers…a-already ate…already ate your meat…jus-just didn’t stay…hmm… (Coughs)…t-tasted m-more d-doe-y t-than human…hmm…v-very d-deer. Ha! Humph-AHGAH! DAMMIT! (Violently Coughs)” 

“…I-I know, I know! Ugh…y-your th-thoughts are-are al-always so…always so m-malicious. Q-Quit it…J-Just s-stitch, stitch me up an-an leave me be!”

The mother responded to the entirety of the scene, with a withered moan. The slurred, gasping words and ragged coughs: clearly brought forth blacken spittle that dribbled like ghastly molasses down her daughter’s split swollen lips.

Bathed in the moonlight: the daughter sat awkwardly hunched, near a small fire, naked and smeared: using her cut off, blood-soaked garb to blotch away the dark streams flowing from her pierced side.

Their shadows dance as the mother approaches. The handle of the won bowie knife, sticking to her palms, as she tenderly moved it aside - ignoring the wetness re-dying their old weathered blanket – to sit beside her daughter. 

“…C-Comes to-to fin- (Coughs) I-I too l-like the taste of blood…” the daughter sputtered with a stained smile, coughing up another glob before finishing the last of the whiskey - with a profoundly agonizing swig – and collapsed across her, muttering mother’s lap.

“…I-I d-don’t know w-why y-you treat, treat me like this… You-You a-act like I-I e-ended this world. I-It’s just-just…just a world. …A world of-of m-many… in-in uni-universes of infinites! (Coughs Violently)”

“…W-Why? Why are you so m-mad? Is it…is it b-because I-I travel when I c-close my, my eyes? I-It’s not-not my fault…fault. C-Close…close y-your own e-eyes… don't don’t be s-so afraid-afraid…y-you-you c-can es-cape, escape too... Y-you, you can do it… P-Please…t-GAH-harrumph-grahhhh!”

The daughter’s increasingly struggled discourse, interrupted graciously by the cold thrust of steel - through flesh, bone, and muscle - sending a sincere warmth throughout her being: the mother’s hand swift and accurate with the blade. Ending the daughter’s suffering, with a merciful piercing through both their hearts.

Their final words spoken within each other’s minds, “Thank you.”

The daughter gasped and laughed: it was almost strange how right it all felt…in that final grunt, growl, gasp, and sigh.