Long Live The Void
Posted: Fri Sep 29, 2023 2:39 pm
"There is a time and place for everything" was a common saying Dawn knew since childhood, even if she didn't remember who taught it to her.
The time had never been an issue.
At long last, she had found the place.
((Dawn Montogomery continued from i cannot just forget our simple moments and wonderful memories of life))
As she followed the dried-up riverbed, she found a small clearing, with three trees situated in the middle, none of them having a camera on it. After circling the trio two times to inspect the countless branches who would allow her to ascend, Dawn judged that this was the perfect place to build a treehouse.
It wasn't a treehouse she was building.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
This was something she had known ten days ago when she build the snowman.
This was something she had already known long before.
Climbing trees was hard.
A childhood spent mostly at Ethan's or in the hospital had kept Dawn from climbing trees. By the time she became more active, she had been too old for such a childish undertaking. In fact, she still felt too old as she repeatedly climbed up to hang all of the stuff she collected into the branches, making the trees a lot more colorful.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
Just like most of her classmates.
Just like her snowman, who had already fallen victim to the elements a few days ago, with no one to even take notice. After all, the cameras were there to survey and film the living.
At the start of her endeavour, Dawn had a picture in mind. A vision of the finished product.
But finding the right places while hugging the canvas turned out to be harder than anticipated.
Eventually she gave up, merely sticking objects wherever they seemed to fit.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
The thought was starting to get boring, even for her.
The work was done.
Dawn stood before three trees filled with all the random objects she collected during her stay on the island.
Bedsheets.
Car antennae.
Christmas decorations.
The rest of her medical supplies.
Anna's scarf.
The backpacks themselves.
All but one of her pockets were empty. Only one item remained in her hands, ready to be used.
For the second and last time, she blew the whistle. Then, she dropped it into the snow.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
The memorial was hideous.
An assortment of trash, skittered in the wild.
Nothing anyone would give a glance to while fighting for their live on this island.
Nothing anyone with survival in mind would create.
Something Dawn had created for exactly this reasons.
Beautiful.
And with that, her work was done.
((She left this place, ready to end things elsewhere.))
The time had never been an issue.
At long last, she had found the place.
((Dawn Montogomery continued from i cannot just forget our simple moments and wonderful memories of life))
As she followed the dried-up riverbed, she found a small clearing, with three trees situated in the middle, none of them having a camera on it. After circling the trio two times to inspect the countless branches who would allow her to ascend, Dawn judged that this was the perfect place to build a treehouse.
It wasn't a treehouse she was building.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
This was something she had known ten days ago when she build the snowman.
This was something she had already known long before.
Climbing trees was hard.
A childhood spent mostly at Ethan's or in the hospital had kept Dawn from climbing trees. By the time she became more active, she had been too old for such a childish undertaking. In fact, she still felt too old as she repeatedly climbed up to hang all of the stuff she collected into the branches, making the trees a lot more colorful.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
Just like most of her classmates.
Just like her snowman, who had already fallen victim to the elements a few days ago, with no one to even take notice. After all, the cameras were there to survey and film the living.
At the start of her endeavour, Dawn had a picture in mind. A vision of the finished product.
But finding the right places while hugging the canvas turned out to be harder than anticipated.
Eventually she gave up, merely sticking objects wherever they seemed to fit.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
The thought was starting to get boring, even for her.
The work was done.
Dawn stood before three trees filled with all the random objects she collected during her stay on the island.
Bedsheets.
Car antennae.
Christmas decorations.
The rest of her medical supplies.
Anna's scarf.
The backpacks themselves.
All but one of her pockets were empty. Only one item remained in her hands, ready to be used.
For the second and last time, she blew the whistle. Then, she dropped it into the snow.
Dawn Montogomery was going to die.
The memorial was hideous.
An assortment of trash, skittered in the wild.
Nothing anyone would give a glance to while fighting for their live on this island.
Nothing anyone with survival in mind would create.
Something Dawn had created for exactly this reasons.
Beautiful.
And with that, her work was done.
((She left this place, ready to end things elsewhere.))