// The Day Before Tomorrow
Title: The Day Before Tomorrow
Rating: PG
Warning: Implied death.
Summary: In Oz, there is a place no one has ever seen. Glinda, post-musical.
In Oz, there is a place no one has ever seen.
She has made sure of that.
Footsteps hardly tread there; sunlight can only stretch a few desperate tendrils upon it. Even silence, so absolute, seems to catch its breath. When she is there, shoes creating the faintest of imprints in untouched dirt, she is all that is left of life, and the thought hurts.
She still remembers how hot laughter fled her lips in the midst of so many parties; how the glass slid against her fingers as she toasted to the downfall of the Witch. How she sat alone in the quiet dawn, skirt pooling around her trembling ankles. How suddenly, death found her, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. How the dirt crumbled in her hands as she tore it from the ground, tears mixing with morning dew.
It is the third year, she realizes - stems thick in her grip.
She has danced through all the parties. She has made the speeches about how lucky and grateful and blessed they are; made them so many times that the words have begun to stick to the roof of her head, burning, burning.
Fellow Ozzians, we have gathered here today to be reminded of a time when good triumphed over evil...
She wants to laugh every time.
The leaves almost seem to bend back as she approaches; her knees find the ground without her consent. No tears, she begs of herself, already knowing it is no use.
Three empty graves sit before her, waiting, like old souls in the candlelight.
Over the first, she murmurs quiet prayers, remembering the girl with the beautiful smile, the glittering shoes. She had been the one to clean away the office; been the one to dispose of the chair, abandoned in the shadows. She had thought to save it as a keepsake - only to realize that there was no left to keep it, to remember. She had sat still in the dark after the thought, almost able to hear the music of the dance again; watch how the girl rose her arms to the sky and for a lingering moment, was free.
Over the second, she clutches her hands to her chest, hears his words in her head, the last words he had ever said to her; I’m so sorry. A tired smile cracks along her face - yes, she could still glimpse those dreams, those fantasies, utterly destroyed in a single, breathless moment. Had it mattered in those last fragile seconds? She remembers his body, dangling, blinding in the sunlight; how his face felt against her hand, the truth filling her up inside. I forgive you, she cries out, as if he will hear her. I forgive you.
And the third ---
She straightens herself over it; brushes away the cracked remains of the year before.
In its place, she places a single lily.
Below it, her finger pauses in the dirt, begins to trace the softest of words - flooded with memories of pointed hats and flying brooms and beautiful dreams, dreams that never came true, that sat unused, forgotten and how could this have happened, I'll never understand, I'll never forgive it, never...
When she is done, she rises to her feet; allows her eyes to find what she has written there.
i’ve been changed for the better
The tears come, and she is lost.
In Oz, there is a place no one has ever seen - and she prays that there will never be another place like it again.
She prays that she will be Good enough to make it so.
~
Rating: PG
Warning: Implied death.
Summary: In Oz, there is a place no one has ever seen. Glinda, post-musical.
In Oz, there is a place no one has ever seen.
She has made sure of that.
Footsteps hardly tread there; sunlight can only stretch a few desperate tendrils upon it. Even silence, so absolute, seems to catch its breath. When she is there, shoes creating the faintest of imprints in untouched dirt, she is all that is left of life, and the thought hurts.
She still remembers how hot laughter fled her lips in the midst of so many parties; how the glass slid against her fingers as she toasted to the downfall of the Witch. How she sat alone in the quiet dawn, skirt pooling around her trembling ankles. How suddenly, death found her, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. How the dirt crumbled in her hands as she tore it from the ground, tears mixing with morning dew.
It is the third year, she realizes - stems thick in her grip.
She has danced through all the parties. She has made the speeches about how lucky and grateful and blessed they are; made them so many times that the words have begun to stick to the roof of her head, burning, burning.
Fellow Ozzians, we have gathered here today to be reminded of a time when good triumphed over evil...
She wants to laugh every time.
The leaves almost seem to bend back as she approaches; her knees find the ground without her consent. No tears, she begs of herself, already knowing it is no use.
Three empty graves sit before her, waiting, like old souls in the candlelight.
Over the first, she murmurs quiet prayers, remembering the girl with the beautiful smile, the glittering shoes. She had been the one to clean away the office; been the one to dispose of the chair, abandoned in the shadows. She had thought to save it as a keepsake - only to realize that there was no left to keep it, to remember. She had sat still in the dark after the thought, almost able to hear the music of the dance again; watch how the girl rose her arms to the sky and for a lingering moment, was free.
Over the second, she clutches her hands to her chest, hears his words in her head, the last words he had ever said to her; I’m so sorry. A tired smile cracks along her face - yes, she could still glimpse those dreams, those fantasies, utterly destroyed in a single, breathless moment. Had it mattered in those last fragile seconds? She remembers his body, dangling, blinding in the sunlight; how his face felt against her hand, the truth filling her up inside. I forgive you, she cries out, as if he will hear her. I forgive you.
And the third ---
She straightens herself over it; brushes away the cracked remains of the year before.
In its place, she places a single lily.
Below it, her finger pauses in the dirt, begins to trace the softest of words - flooded with memories of pointed hats and flying brooms and beautiful dreams, dreams that never came true, that sat unused, forgotten and how could this have happened, I'll never understand, I'll never forgive it, never...
When she is done, she rises to her feet; allows her eyes to find what she has written there.
i’ve been changed for the better
The tears come, and she is lost.
In Oz, there is a place no one has ever seen - and she prays that there will never be another place like it again.
She prays that she will be Good enough to make it so.
~