Shattered

Lilies

1.

LILIES

Often interpreted as a symbol of renewal and rebirth, the lily can be a powerful symbol of the spirit of a loved one that offers hope and encouragement to a grieving family. Its colour also carries associations with purity and youth, making it a good choice for the funeral of someone who has died young.

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THEY HADN’T PLANNED this - no one had. It was unexpected, and that was what made it hurt all the more. No one had expected the cheery boy to come to his fate so soon. No one had expected to live on after him - he’d had so much ahead of him, so many opportunities, but now, he was gone. They’d never hear him laugh again, or hear him crack the corny jokes they used to hate. Jokes that they now missed with every fibre of their being.

No one knew if he was alive, but he was gone. And everything felt empty without him. He’d been the one holding the family together, a glue that they could never replace. He was more than the jokester.  He was the one that lightened the mood when things got tough, the one that kept the peace when no one else could. He was everything, and without him, they were nothing.

But they had to keep on going. That much was clear. They didn't want to, of course. None of them did, to be honest. It felt wrong going without Cielo. They delayed making the decision for as long as possible, but time was of the essence, and no one could hide forever. 

Especially not from them. 

The Enemy. Nameless souls that roamed the streets at night, ready to pounce. Brainwashed fools following their convincing leader, cloaked in blinding colour - colour so bright that it flashed like a warning light, saying ‘don’t get close’  and ‘be careful’. Colour that had led many before them to death, or to complete blindness. To the point that they’d never be able to see the stars one last time.

Neon colours were the enemy.

They’d been taught this since young, had it taught to them over and over again like a broken record. “Neon is dangerous. Don’t get close,’’ parents would chide to every one of the young innocent children that had a penchant for the bright colour. But not everyone would listen.

Thankfully, this had been repeated enough times for the twins, Pollux and Castor Ashworth, to know by heart. Still shaken by the sudden disappearance of one of the most important figures of their lives from their small world, they kept an unusually focused lookout on The Enemy. Small darting flashes of colour, here one instant, there another. So difficult to track, but so very easy to spot. 

In fact, Pollux thought absentmindedly, it was almost as if their speed made up for their lack of soul, and heart, and spirit. He shivered as the flickers of colour seemed to increase, and wondered if leaving the usually safe place he called home was really the best idea. Especially when things were still so tense.

He sighed and tried to take his mind off it, to think positively. Their leaving would probably cause issues and they could die along the way, but what if they escaped? What if they managed to find a new home, far far away where neon was not The Enemy, but instead a symbol of peace, and happiness? What if they found a place without fear hanging over them like a death sentence, a place where things were happy and normal?

It didn’t work. Sure, there was the whole one hour thing were the Enemy was said to go dark and refuel their energy, and while that did give Pollux some hope, he knew that even that was a very big risk. If they did manage to escape unharmed, that would be all fine, but what if they didn’t? The Enemy would have more power then, which guaranteed them a fate worse than death. A fate that he did not want to befall him.