S c a r r e d

first place in short story contest
s c a r r e d
... from, Mocha ...writing + coding by bookss
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death must be so beautiful. to lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. to have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. to forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
- oscar wilde
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letters from mocha to her dead sister, where she expresses her thoughts on pain, fears, forgiveness and the sweet acceptance of death
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lowercase intended
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a/n: contains elements of death and suicide
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dear ██████
today, my wings hurt. 
like, trying to unfurl them led to me screaming for a while. like thousands of tiny pins lodging themselves into my scales. like i'm drowning myself in hydrofluoric acid.
i think all the scars you left me are awakening again.
looking at my wings, well, they're ruined. torn at the wrong places, bent at the wrong angles. the scales decorated with slashes and bruises and welts. 
there's no blood though. that's good.
i don't like blood.
because blood is red, and red is scary and traitorous and treacherous.
red is t e r r i f y i n g.
are my wings meant to be bloody and red? is that what you would have wanted?
if it is, i'm sorry. they're not.
at least the scars are still there. the scars are my only memories of you.
it's funny, you know. you left your mark in the world on me, in hopes you would get remembered. yet you hated me all this time.
i don't blame you for hating me. really.
i hate myself a lot too.
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dear █████r 
today, my claws hurt.
i try to stretch them a bit, but they're fragile, you know? they're awfully thin. almost like i've been starving them.
i really shouldn't talk about starving, should i? i'm sorry.
but yes, they throb with pain and most of my claws are broken. especially after you've smashed and dragged them on all the jagged rocks. 
i think i will get better though. i try to not hate you for what you did.
you see, i cannot hate you. ma always said to forgive you and that you were different.
i think you were just really mean.
but that's okay, because i forgive you. see, i'm not angry. i don't hate you.
you did not deserve to die.
i deserve to die. i should've died.
i want to die.
if i let you ruin me all over again, would you tell me what death is like? 
dragons say that death is not fun at all. they don't see it, do they?
death is f a s c i n a t i n g.
but you're not here anymore, so i can't ask you. you know, sometimes i miss you, then i hate you, then i remember i have to forgive. so i'm forgiving you again.
i'm not too sure what for.
you were always better than me. i should've realised that long ago. you were always right. 
i'm sorry for not listening.
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dear ████er
today, my scales hurt.
especially the ones on my tail. you know, the ones you practically gouged out on our trip to jade mountain? yeah, those ones.
if i look at the missing scales for long enough, they're like browny-purple stars. aren't they pretty?
right. i can't be pretty. i'm sorry. 
sometimes when i say sorry, i don't know if i'm telling you the truth or not. i know it's bad, but it's not, okay?
lying is w o n d r o u s.
it's an art, in fact. if you don't notice the signs, you'll never know someone is fibbing. lying is beautiful in a way. you can get away with saying that you are pretty, and no one would ever question it.
but i'm not pretty. i can't say that.
i'm sorry.
see, i'm apologising again. but what for, really?
it's becoming a habit. and i have a lot of bad habits:
digging my claws into my scales. scratching my snout. angering you and ma.
and that's just to name a few.
i know i've done bad things, but can you forgive me?
because i'm trying my best to forgive you.
----
dear ███ter
today, my underbelly hurts.
not the entire thing, of course. just the many cuts and slashes that are still healing.
they're been healing for almost 2 years now.
that's a long time.
is that normal? i've been hiding myself away for so long. i haven't been to the marshes in ages.
you know, another dragon saw me today. he was large with dark scales and intimidating and he told me i was broken.
am i broken?
i'm not, am i? i'm just hurt. 
so i told him to go away. then he said he could fix me.
i don't want to be fixed.
fixing means repairing and rebuilding.
fixing means s t a b i l i s i n g.
i am already stable.
so i told him to go away again and he did. i think i'm getting better. see, i'm fixing myself.
i feel the pain again. it's coming from under my neck and i know i cannot scratch it but i do anyway. 
i'm sorry if that makes you angry.
i think i scratch a bit too hard because when i look at my claws again they are red. 
very, very red.
and red is terrifying.
i think i scream, but then i tell myself that i must fix myself. then you would be proud and i want to make you proud so i stop screaming.
do you still hate me now?
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dear ██ster
today, my snout hurts.
not like all the other days before. it, tingles. and tickles. but when it tickles it hurts, like little claws trying to hurt and make me laugh at the same time.
i try to laugh and something like a wince seems to escape instead.
they sound to similar to the noises i would make when you tickled me.
tickling is a funny word. 
i think it would be a creamy yellow.
it's p a c i f y i n g.
the flowers near the screaming rocks are also a creamy yellow. did you know that?
you know, sometimes i go there. it takes a while, because well i don't move very fast. but i eventually find it, so it's okay.
you know where the screaming rocks are, right? it's the place where you died. 
i go there, sometimes. and i try to squeeze into the gap between the rocks to try to see if i can still see you in there. but i can't.
you could fit through though. i guess i am too big. 
are you even still in there? i know you're gone and, well, dead because you haven't come out for a while, have you? 
you must be starving if you're still in there.
starving. right. i can't say that.
i'm sorry.
and just like that, i'm repeating everything:
talking to you, saying the wrong thing, then trying to forgive you.
hopefully you forgive me too. 
----
dear █ister
today, my throat hurts.
like a mixture of bile and fire rising up in my throat, ready to explode out of my mouth. and i know it's not possible because, well, i can't breathe fire can i?
see, i'm different as well.
that just proves i am like you. we are both different from other dragons.
it hurts to talk and when i try to say something, it's all crackly and rough and crinkled. it hurts to move as well, so i'm staying inside the cave all day.
it mostly just hurts to breathe.
like i'm swallowing fire and needles with every inhale and it doesn't even make sense. my throat isn't scarred or anything, is it?
you know what is really scary? 
i woke up in red today. like a lot and i think it was seeping from my mouth. 
but it hurt. a lot.
and it's like my entire body is bleeding and peeling, all my scales shriveling and dying a very slow death. 
it's not fun.
and now i think about it, i do really want to die. there are many reasons, but i think the main one is that it all hurts too much.
plus, if i died, it would make you very happy. wouldn't it?
you would be e c s t a t i c.
i really don't know. life is all flowers, but what is death like?
i want to know.
i'm confused. really confused.
but i think i'll save the confusion for another day.
i'll see you in the morning, sister.
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dear sister
today, nothing hurts.
am i dead?
i think so.
i hope so.
i did it.
and you know, they say life hurts a lot more than death.
i can say for sure, it's true. death was saccharine and easy. my soul loves drinking death.
and death isn't all black and blue and ugly. in fact, sister, death is beautiful.
i can finally lie in the marshes without feeling any pain, under the large willow tree we both hatched under. i don't have to worry about anything. the wind is calm there, and i feel at peace being so close to the sea.
time doesn't exist when you're dead, so you're practically living forever.
and when you're dead, the world forgives you of all the wrong you did. so you can too, sister. you can forgive me for everything, and i will forgive you.
and you can forgive life too.
and then you'll be at peace, your soul venturing somewhere new where you hope life is somewhat better.
i guess your wishes came true, sister.
i am beautiful, yet ugly. i am living, yet dead. i am broken, yet fixed. i am just like you.
i am s c a r r e d.
from,
. . . mocha
♥ thank you so much for reading ♥
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)
Category:Content (bookaholic.9488)
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Genre (Epistolary)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)
Category:Genre (Mystery)