crying lightning

Prologue: yesterday // let’s head over to tomorrow

Ring-a-ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies,


It was the small things that infuriated her beyond belief.

It was the way that he scribbled intricate doodles on the side of his parchment while the professor was talking, accompanied by an occasional clicking of the tongue. It was the way a smirk curved upon his lips as he noticed her eyes shooting lightning. It was the way it did a small one-two-three as he shot a dazzling grin. It was the way he ignored everything that was going on around him. It was the way he gazed at her with concern and caring and everything he shouldn’t have been looking at her with.

(It was the way she shot the same look back at him)

A-tishoo! A-tishoo!

The big things terrified her.

The way the word oh-so-casually slid out of their (his) mouth like four-five-six, the way fear stealthily took a spot in the back of everyone’s minds, the way people flickered out like candles on a birthday cake- the way that people twisted and changed from what they had been to what lurked in the darkness. The world that she had become so fascinated with had changed from a fairytale to a nightmare.

Theatrics. That’s all everyone was doing, really. Just playing a silly game. Biding their time until- swoosh! They were dead, a flash of emerald being their final sight.

(Her eyes were emerald.)

We all fall down.



*

Some people said it began when the first curse slipped past someone’s lips as quickly as seven-eight-nine, striking the other square in the chest. Others said no, that couldn’t have been the start. The first spell was unknown to all, forever lurking beyond reach. The only one who really knew of the fine details was the one who had uttered it, as it would haunt them forever.


( “I’m sorry.”)

Others argue that it started with the first murder. The first murder was blatantly publicized, spread so far and wide that any ordinary person could recite the information like ten-eleven-twelve (that was their fatal mistake). Yet most of the details were kept locked up, and only the most important people could have access to the information. Only a year later was all that thrown to the winds when death was an everyday occurrence. Nobody cared about the first anymore- it had become one among hundreds.

(“Avada Kedavra!”)

Yet others think the beginning started with the threat. Not even children were safe- no, children egged it on, letting the madness and disease run rampant. Not one person considered the consequences (some thought they did). Instead, they turned against one another instead of bonding together (that was definitely the worst mistake made.)

Nobody was considerate enough, conscious enough, clever enough (or so they thought). Some thought they could beat death. They didn’t. Others thought they could run from it all. They couldn’t.

A few, a tiny percentage, thought they could fight.

They lost.

(“Beware Mudbloods.”)