In the waning days of Autumn there's a bridge to nowhere that two will cross anyway. Falling leaves dance a last dance before hitting the ground, waiting for a wind to carry them back across. Hued skin embraces the White of Snow, and for an instant, hearts beat in response to each other. The sun sets at just the right time, revealing with the moon a landscape covered in brilliant shades of blue. A face and a smile glow, it seems, curves in a game of charades in the dark. A land of make believe ripped apart by the reality of something dying.
Open the wardrobe and prepare for the chill of Winter. A blizzard makes it hard to see, but there's a lamppost in the distance. The length of time in one place determines how much of the world will pass by, and it will only pass by so many times before all is lost. The ring, now meaningless, still means something. Returning it home is a journey too much to bear; keeping it is a reminder of just how selfish one can be. There's no Wizard to guide, and no Witch to fight. But a lie is believed anyway.
Spring brings a warrior without a war, a Knight with no Dragon, and still more lies. Taking his hand does not change the past, nor does it ensure any semblance of a future. The ghost will haunt regardless of castle or tower, for it is attached to the scent of a woman who promised herself away, knowing that promises are not things to keep. A dance always ends; false steps will betray even the blind partner. And the world keeps passing by. Watering the garden with alcohol will not grow wings. The Western Knight falls to the Eastern Dragon, a table turned, for the sun travels only in one direction.
It is much too hot in the Summer and there are too many wounded to tend. Fields grow wild, but no one is eating. The answer appeared, but the question was never asked. A father's warning went unheeded, and too many games were played. Slaves won't protect their masters; why should they? All that is desired is freedom from promises broken, but how fickle is woman? Learning to shoot straight is unnecessary at close range, and he doesn't give a damn. A lie is a weight the wind will not carry.
* This is the first part of what will hopefully be a nine-part entry in the River of Mnemosyne challenge that's happening over at The ...
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