a burning for the sun

"Mother," she mumbled through cracked lips, pressed against her praying hands. "On behalf of all your forsaken children, please provide us with enough sustenance to survive the warm season. We have grown, much to your dismay, and our ration has failed to feed us without your intervention. We ask not for power nor dignity, but merely for the concern and compassion that we have greatly missed from our dear mother. There is very little left of us, and we each fear that we will not last much longer by ourselves. Forgive me, Mother, but I speak for both my brothers and my sister when I say that we yearn to see you, to hear you, to feel you!"

The seemingly young girl was far too concentrated on her prayer to sense the danger lingering behind her, that is, until she suddenly flew forward with a force so unlike her own. A secure hand gripped what was left of her flimsy hair, twirled it around their fist, and slammed the girl's face into the ground. The girl's fingers cracked uncomfortably as they unlocked from their resting position and attempted to guard her gaunt appearance, but they failed at shielding her face as her chin still crashed into the wooden flooring with a harsh thud.

"Oh, Kovina!" She shrieked at her attacker. "Have mercy on me, Sister!"

"Shush! Be quiet, Avyanna! Shush! Shush!" Before untangling the loose, splintering hair from her fingers, Kovina pulled Avyanna from off the floor and demanded that she cease her painful cries of devotion. "Do not pester Mother with your weeping! She will not listen to you! She will not listen to any of us!"

"Oh, but I must try!" Avyanna wrapped herself around her elder sister's legs, cradling the slender limbs into her small body. "Please, Kovina! Understand me! I feel nothing anymore except hunger! Wild, unruly hunger!"

Kovina gripped Avyanna's chin—using her thumb to trace over the fresh scar and kiss her wound with subtle care. "We will not perish from hunger. You have to look at me and listen well, little one. There is not much that I have in this world, but I can assure you that I will not let you, nor our brothers, succumb to such a torturous death."

"Yes!" Avyanna's lips curled into a smile as she peered up at her sister with affection and admiration. "You can catch Mother's attention!"

Kovina felt tempted by the seed of anger that had planted itself into her heart, but she ignored it at the pitiful sight in front of her. She watched Avyanna with a forged grin and moved to pat her desolate head, lingering for only a moment. Kovina did not leave her sister's side until Avyanna clasped her hands back together and crawled into the praying position that consumed much of her wasted time.

Kovina looked away from the troublesome scene. There was now a thin layer of determination that coated much of her sore fingertips—despite them being smeared in her young sister's desperation. Around the withered edges were gnawed and exposed skin, which had long been smothered in her own disappointment. This time, however, was an exception. There was something different attached to them now, something almost rejuvenating about them. Although the persistent varnish was rapidly melting away, disappearing with each bated breath that she took—such unease assured her that she was not inept at emotion. Especially human emotion.

Nonetheless, Kovina quickly left that room. And, without a single glance back. It had forcibly held what was left of her cherished sister—after trapping her and imprisoning her there for what felt like centuries. She reached forward to the entrance of their home, or rather, their cage. There was a slight pause to her hesitant approach, but she urged herself to proceed while cursing at her unease. Through a chasmic breath in, with enough power to ignite a sharp hiss to form against her evenly pointed teeth, she grabbed the jittery knob that haunted her and her siblings. Kovina felt it tense underneath her cold, calculated touch. Euphoria raced up her spine.

The hinge opened with very little sound, and yet she could still hear the whistle of freedom nibbling at her long ears. The small voice inside her head screamed with great anticipation. Now! What was she waiting for? Now!

She peered around the corner with her eyes glued to the floor, watching closely as light began to poke through the compacted gaps. Avyanna would never notice her, and definitely not while she was fixated on appeasing their mother. The door was heavy and felt unnatural to her harrowing form, but she was far too committed to stop. Her hand instinctively raised to wrap around the side of the door, and as her fingers crossed the boundary that acted as the seal to her fate, she screeched with a loud, piercing scream.

With a harrowing shriek, she clung to the burn that embraced her neck and gasped for breath through a gurgle of blood, spit, and phlegm. Against her will, her back buried itself into wall.

Kovina held onto the scorching touch that left her gagging and coughing, and she pleaded with desperation. "Mother! Mother, please!"

"Kovina!" The godly light that encased Kovina's body required answers as the inflamed hand removed itself from her neck and pulled itself back into her mother's original configuration. Áine appeared before her eyes and smoothed out her boiled voice into one of caution and care, "Kovina, what are you doing at the door?"

"Mother, do you not see? We are starving here." Kovina pushed her mother's warm hand against her flat chest, highlighting the translucency of her malnourished skin and the shape of her dwindling ribcage. Through soft words, she implored her beloved mother to understand the gravity of the situation, "There is barely anything left of your children. Our bodies are shrinking, our spirits are vanishing, and yet we still continue to age against the terrible odds."

"You could have been caught, Kovina." Áine tried to calm her tone, however, boiling blood rarely dwindles without the help of time. "The outside world does not wish to see you like you wish to see it. They despise you for being alive—for existing! There are people, creatures out there who will not think twice to capture you, to make a mockery out of you and your innocent siblings! And, what if you were noticed? They would have skinned you! Killed you! Buried you! What else would have happened to you? To your siblings? To me?"

"Yophiel has nearly chewed off his own arms, and Bakkhos is not far behind him. They have been grinding their teeth into nothing, so that they do not turn on us for nourishment and pleasure. This-This hunger has separated us! Lyonechka has not been able to leave his bed in days—no, weeks. He has been forced to hide under the covers like a cowering fool, like a man with no hope to find and no future to look forward to. Ryuu tries to keep his pain a secret, but he writes of his suffering. Torment. Maltreatment. Persecution. Those are the very words he uses to explain his agony—our cruel, shared affliction. Throughout the horrors that affect us day and night, and without fail, we pray for you to save us from our misery. Look at our poor Avyanna, and how her knees have completely disintegrated into the floor, and how she stays still with her palms pressed into one another and her lips mumbling her cries to you. Do you not hear her? Do you not hear us?"

Áine stayed strikingly silent. The truth behind her lack of voice was the wrath within Kovina's violet eyes. Kovina had aged. Since Áine had last witnessed her, she has evolved into someone new. No longer was the docile child.

Kovina had then placed her mother's hands against her cheeks, with her flawless finger's spread, so that her cheekbones could prod the skin. "Answer me, Mother! Do you not see me?"

"Mother! Mother!" Avyanna called out to Áine from the connected room, fumbling with her hands and falling over her two feet as she rushed to greet her mother. The struggle felt worth it as she claimed the triumph. "Oh, Mother! Is it really you or has my vision finally abandoned me! Oh, I cannot believe my eyes! Come to me—please! My legs have stopped working because of my love for you!"

"Oh, my darling girl!" Kovina felt her mother smack into her shoulder as she bypassed her and turned to face the naive Avyanna. She spoke with a honeyed voice that frequently distracted her children. It was sweet to the ears, but only Kovina knew how hard it was on the teeth. "Mother is here. There is no need to worry when I am always with you. Speak to me, my dutiful Avyanna, do you despise your mother for attending to her responsibilities?"

Kovina became charged with an intense hatred for promises and commitments—especially when it came to those who could not fulfill all of theirs. Despite not knowing where the path would ultimately lead her, she let her feet guide the way. Across the wooden flooring, she battled against steps and hallways—just so that she could slam herself into her private room. She utilized her mother's sugared words as energy and locked the door.

Kovina gripped her mother's most treasured pair of scissors with a grasp tight enough to bend the handle into ruin. There is no particular reason for this specific pair of scissors to be the favourite nor even the only one used, but their handles are the most worn out of them all. Moreover, it reeks of disappointment and denial. Kovina's fingers looped through the holes as her nostrils flared at the familiar smell of dissatisfaction.

With a disorderly hand, she grabbed at the coarse tendrils of her hair and hacked away at the strands. Kovina mauled her white locks—pulling and ripping, chopping and trimming, and clipping and snipping.

She smiled to only herself as she ruffled through what was left of her provoked collapse. And, with a gentle and steady caress, she trailed her fingertips across the burnt flesh of her hand. As though she were a painter of great renown, Kovina dipped her pointer into the melted pit of her skin and craved to use her own liquified decay as fuel.

The smell lingered in the air like a leaking fume. Kovina promised herself that she would never let her mother know the truth of this day—that her eldest daughter had touched the sun.

And, that she yearned for more.

W O R D C O U N T : 1956

Hi there!

Welcome back. And, apologies for my lack of chatting these past few months. If sixteen year old me saw me now, well, she would be appalled. Though, that characteristic isn't really uncommon for me much these days, is it? Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this little diary entry—you could say—from the capricious Kovina. I think this update is fresh and cute, probably a bit sweeter than Kovina is, however, likely similar in beauty. Rugged but pretty enough to look at, I hope!

To me, Kovina is like a recently plucked cherry—the stem is still holding on with great perseverance and the plump tartness of her strong spirit seems to never falter. The taste of her attitude lingers in your teeth like a sticky juice that you just can't scrape off, even despite ripping and plucking away at your tongue. Her very core attacks you.

She's irresistible like that.