Waiting for Rebirth

It’s QueerBlogWed! A day to blog about all things queer, which ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ qualifies as (grins with Pride). We pick off where we left on Monday with a Door opening through Damian’s painting…

“Close it!”

Gabrielle stood behind us, hair loose and crackling in a halo around her head.

“Opening a Door here is dangerous!” ‘Brie stared, no glared at the painting. “Turn away from it at once!”

“No!” Damian’s denial was fierce and short. “This is the way to my path!”

Damian took another step forward. He stretched out his own hand toward the ghostly one. The two were meant to be joined.

I saw this, yet I couldn’t let this happen.

I moved forward to Damian’s side, seized Damian’s arm.

“You don’t have to accept this.” Every inch of compulsion I’d ever possessed I put into my voice. “Listen. Can you hear them?”

The wind whispered through the cracks in the color. They murmured in a wind wind, increasing in volume. The sound struck my ears, bringing images to life. A girl spun on top of a hill in a dress as green as the grass beneath her feet. A man with the long, spindly hands caressed and sought tools to carve his words into some enduring medium. A laughing maiden with wayward fair hair searched for something she couldn’t name.

All of them were waiting for me, for I was each of them, as well as Christopher. I was an individual composed of fragments. Not all of these fragments belonged to Christopher.

Part of me wanted to step forward, towards my other lost selves. To be reunited with them. However, it was never the same, once you took on a different identity.

“Listen to what I lost,” I let my own voice caress Damian. “This is what awaits you.” I loosened my grip on his arm, stroking it. “What you are now will be shattered.”

“I know.” His own voice was so very tender when he turned to look at me. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew.” He lifted his gaze to the ghostly hand reaching out from a shining path. “I can’t abandon my wish, though. Not even for you.”

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