Summary- A sort of acting epilogue to the continuing saga of Virginia Lynx and Streak Phillips.
Just a quick note- Be sure to read the up and comin’ fic “The Unfinished Symphony- A Tribute to Greg Bear’s ‘Blood Music’”. It’s gonna be good. Cheese “Kit/Tigra/Look my in the eye…those aren’t me eyes, mate”Danish
Four Years Later-
The leaves twist and hop as they fall. They twirl. They reflect the lemon-meringue light of the rapidly setting December sun. The rays pan and shoot off the golden surface of the tiny floating bodies. Finally, one by one, they touch into the damp, hyper-green grass. They slowly soak up the moisture, turning from bright gold to a dull brown, accenting the green highlights of the cemetery lawn. The leaves blow with a sudden urgency as the cold wind tiptoes through, scaring them away.
Chance looks up into the sky. It is a soft grey at the top, and the clouds taper off into neon pinks and purples as the sky collapses into the rapidly falling orb of light on the horizon. Looking back toward the earth, he sees a dark stone grave marker. On the small 4×6 plaque, there is only a date. June 6, 1996. Chance removes an object from the plastic bag he is holding and places it on the cold stone. As the sun glares in his eyes, he turns away and walks back across the wet lawn, leaving only a single, pink, orange-tipped rose.
The one called Peace.
“So, how does it feel?”
“What?” Brent asks, looking up from a notebook. Jake plops onto the couch with a bag of popcorn.
“The fact that, in a matter of hours, you’re going to ring in the Y2K?”
Brent shrugs, bouncing his long, ebony locks of hair. “I’ll be really excited next year, ushering in the new millennium.”
Jake looks over Brent’s shoulder. Brent hides what he has been working on for the past few minutes.
“Fine. I can’t read your writing anyway.”
“If you must know, I am composing poetry.”
“Oh, c’mon…read it ta Uncky Jake.” Jake grins and stuffs his face with popcorn.
“Uncky Ja….oh, alright.” Brent sits up and turns to Jake. He looks remarkably refined for a mere ten-year-old. He clears his throat, and begins, softly:
“The wind has swept away the day
Along with thoughts of you
The heat, the light, the energy
But I still feel renewed
The day may be gone, but there is no dark
Only another day
But all I can think about is how much I miss the moon
And the fact I can’t have it either way.
So now I must choose
Between evil and good
Although clear the choice should be
If only I had
To make this decision for me.”
Brent looks expectantly at Jake.
“That’s rather remarkable…”Jake says, for lack of a better comment. “Can I ask you-”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Brent snaps. Jake shrugs.
“Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”
Brent smiles. “I know.”
Feral watches as the bright orange moon rises from the Sea. Tonight she is rather sleepy, her waves soft and tide low. He gazes down the beach to the edge of the water. The mellow marigold colour matches Gina’s exactly. She begins to walk back toward him, yet more sea shells in her arms. Since they had moved here, to the edge of the land, Gina had been working on bringing the ocean into their house. She insists that each is special in some way. He just countered that everything was beautiful in its own way, and Gina had shot back with the answer, “If I didn’t think that, why would I have married you?” He hates it when she says things that mean more than one thing at once like that. He just smiles and shakes his head.
“Wut’s so funny?” Virginia stretches out into the sand next to him.
He shrugs. “Nothing.” He strokes her belly lightly, and she begins to purr softly. “Have you seen the moon?” he asks.
She lies her head on his knee. “Yeah. It’s beautiful, ain’t it?”
Feral breathes of the salt air and smiles down at Gina. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Gina looks at her watch. “Only one hour until midnight.”
Feral smiles and looks at the moon, and hears only the sloshing of the waves against the sand and Gina purring gently.
I don’t know…maybe it’ll actually be alright.
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