BISHOP (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
getting_better) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
the_big_ol_book_o_stories2023-05-28 09:12 pm
getting_better) wrote in the_big_ol_book_o_stories2023-05-28 09:12 pm
For Saori
The foundations of the world are ground in facts, unshakeable truths that cannot be disputed, altered, or removed. Save for one; there is no "truth".
The world is built on the way one percieves it; not by how it appears. For example, a humble apple. What is but a simple fruit to one could be a lifeline to another. In that sense, an apple is not simply a fruit but a physical manifestation of life. Of opportunity.
The world is in short an amalgamation of perceptions and understanding, and it becomes whatever they choose it to be. Which is why the truth of a world beyond one's own is but the way someone, some blessed or cursed soul, percieves it - or maybe it was that they had percieved it.
Two souls, one common world - neither could call their home - share such a perception. A world beyond science and magic, but still grounded in reality. At first for them it was a light, a glint, that catches their eye and then a reflection stares back at them. Then a pull and a stumble, a room filled with mirrors, and a new adventure.
There was no such gentleness this time. This time it is just a moment, a second that stretched out forever. A tug at their hand, then their whole body was gripped by a singular force before they were forced to turn around and see their reflection, clouded by darkness save for their mad eyes that stare before the mirror shattered and them cast into the void and their consciousness fades into it.
When next the soul awakes, there is light - sunlight, warm and gentle - cast upon them through the canopy of rustling leaves. A familiar room, or at least it should have been. The walls have crumbled away at great parts, the perpetrators - mighty trees, sentinels of an ancient forest breached those walls, floors, and ceiling proclaiming that this was their home. Their victory over society and that they welcome her back to a familiar place, but also welcome her to a new world.
In her hand is a mirror, decorated by her experience, life, love, joys, and dreams, only hers to see. Infront of her, a shattered black mirror. No ornaments, no reflection, no shards to pick up and piece together. Only the darkness.
The world is built on the way one percieves it; not by how it appears. For example, a humble apple. What is but a simple fruit to one could be a lifeline to another. In that sense, an apple is not simply a fruit but a physical manifestation of life. Of opportunity.
The world is in short an amalgamation of perceptions and understanding, and it becomes whatever they choose it to be. Which is why the truth of a world beyond one's own is but the way someone, some blessed or cursed soul, percieves it - or maybe it was that they had percieved it.
Two souls, one common world - neither could call their home - share such a perception. A world beyond science and magic, but still grounded in reality. At first for them it was a light, a glint, that catches their eye and then a reflection stares back at them. Then a pull and a stumble, a room filled with mirrors, and a new adventure.
There was no such gentleness this time. This time it is just a moment, a second that stretched out forever. A tug at their hand, then their whole body was gripped by a singular force before they were forced to turn around and see their reflection, clouded by darkness save for their mad eyes that stare before the mirror shattered and them cast into the void and their consciousness fades into it.
When next the soul awakes, there is light - sunlight, warm and gentle - cast upon them through the canopy of rustling leaves. A familiar room, or at least it should have been. The walls have crumbled away at great parts, the perpetrators - mighty trees, sentinels of an ancient forest breached those walls, floors, and ceiling proclaiming that this was their home. Their victory over society and that they welcome her back to a familiar place, but also welcome her to a new world.
In her hand is a mirror, decorated by her experience, life, love, joys, and dreams, only hers to see. Infront of her, a shattered black mirror. No ornaments, no reflection, no shards to pick up and piece together. Only the darkness.