yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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metamorphosis2011-01-13 05:25 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2011-01-13 05:25 pm
Entry tags:
217;
Title: ripped from the seams of time, do we really exist?
Characters: Miharu
Rating: G
For the prompt, "If you love something, set it free; if it comes back, it was meant to be." from the 111 Nabari no Ou prompt list.
Once he heard that if you loved something, you should set it free, and that if it came back to you, it was meant to be. It's a smart little rhyme, one Miharu doen't think much of, but it lingers at the edge of his mind, just at the fringes where something, someone had been. The edges of his mind are like torn paper; like something's been pulled out and replaced with air, and he doesn't like the feeling of missing something and not being able to recall what it is. He lets his mind dwell on the saying, and he can almost feel some sort of break in the invisible wall, can almost feel the bits and pieces of paper floating back, as if they're saying, "Hey, we're here. Hey, we're a little out of reach." because it ends a second too soon. The tendrils of an epiphany lost to that someone, the one he can't remember, and he raises the camera to his face and click goes the shutter, capturing the spirited moment of father and daughter and he thinks that it probably is better this way, to not remember who it was exactly, but the hole in his chest reminds him otherwise and he wonders, even briefly, if that 'someone' would ever come back.
'If not,' he muses, 'then I guess it was never meant to be.'
Characters: Miharu
Rating: G
For the prompt, "If you love something, set it free; if it comes back, it was meant to be." from the 111 Nabari no Ou prompt list.
Once he heard that if you loved something, you should set it free, and that if it came back to you, it was meant to be. It's a smart little rhyme, one Miharu doen't think much of, but it lingers at the edge of his mind, just at the fringes where something, someone had been. The edges of his mind are like torn paper; like something's been pulled out and replaced with air, and he doesn't like the feeling of missing something and not being able to recall what it is. He lets his mind dwell on the saying, and he can almost feel some sort of break in the invisible wall, can almost feel the bits and pieces of paper floating back, as if they're saying, "Hey, we're here. Hey, we're a little out of reach." because it ends a second too soon. The tendrils of an epiphany lost to that someone, the one he can't remember, and he raises the camera to his face and click goes the shutter, capturing the spirited moment of father and daughter and he thinks that it probably is better this way, to not remember who it was exactly, but the hole in his chest reminds him otherwise and he wonders, even briefly, if that 'someone' would ever come back.
'If not,' he muses, 'then I guess it was never meant to be.'