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literature
My Light
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Literature Text
Her voice was smooth and calm as she spoke to him. He liked that. She was the only one who ever spoke to him without hatred or revulsion in her voice. She didn't view him as an irredeemable monster. Perhaps it was because she couldn't see him. And, even as she finished her story and he helped her to her feet with one gentle finger, he felt a deep and burning anger fill him, the fury had filled him since the time that they had first met. That anyone could harm someone so full of light, that they could blind and imprison her for supposed crimes filled him with a deep rage.
And the crimes were supposed. Scattered among her tales of a sunlit world had been tales of the one she loved, the one who had led the revolt, the one she had sacrificed her freedom and her sight to save. She claimed he was coming for her, and that too was a prominent feature in her tales. She spoke fondly of a dashing insurrectionist leading a rebellion, who would knock down the walls of the prison and carry his blinded princess away in the sunset. He indulged her those times, let her settle in his chained and scarred arms as the sobs wracked her body, as the light left her and she wondered if her rescue was coming. That a human could cause the light to leave her was galling. Those were the times that he felt the most blinding rage, though he never showed it to her.
He was good at rage. He had been a creature of rage for longer then she had been alive, and he well deserved the crimes he was imprisoned for. He had been a monster, until she was imprisoned with him. She had filled his life with light, she had not lost the light that came from being free. And another sensation came to him, one the overrode even his rage. He would preserve that light inside of her for as long as he could. If his jailers, or even her revolutionist were to blind to her radiance, so be it. She would be his light in the darkness that enveloped him. He said it aloud in his rumbling voice to see if the revelation held true against the mundanity of his cell.
"My light."
It did.
And the crimes were supposed. Scattered among her tales of a sunlit world had been tales of the one she loved, the one who had led the revolt, the one she had sacrificed her freedom and her sight to save. She claimed he was coming for her, and that too was a prominent feature in her tales. She spoke fondly of a dashing insurrectionist leading a rebellion, who would knock down the walls of the prison and carry his blinded princess away in the sunset. He indulged her those times, let her settle in his chained and scarred arms as the sobs wracked her body, as the light left her and she wondered if her rescue was coming. That a human could cause the light to leave her was galling. Those were the times that he felt the most blinding rage, though he never showed it to her.
He was good at rage. He had been a creature of rage for longer then she had been alive, and he well deserved the crimes he was imprisoned for. He had been a monster, until she was imprisoned with him. She had filled his life with light, she had not lost the light that came from being free. And another sensation came to him, one the overrode even his rage. He would preserve that light inside of her for as long as he could. If his jailers, or even her revolutionist were to blind to her radiance, so be it. She would be his light in the darkness that enveloped him. He said it aloud in his rumbling voice to see if the revelation held true against the mundanity of his cell.
"My light."
It did.
Inspired by and based on =thehiddensaphire's My Light. You really ought to take a look at it, as the ficlet probably won't make sense without the picture. I would include a link, but I have no earthly idea how, so sorry.
© 2009 - 2024 capellariddle
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Click the "Edit" tab on this deviation, find the picture and simply copy and paste the web address in the authors coments. Thats how you post a link 
here's the link to the picture btw. [link]
here's the link to the picture btw.
[link]